Chapter 4

 

“Hello?” Trent cupped the phone to his ear since the noise was so loud.

“Trent?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“James.”

Trent choked in shock and said, “It came in as a blocked number. Hang on. Can ya hang on?” He threw cash on the table and said to his friends, “I gotta step outside.”

“What?” Brace asked, “Who the hell is on the phone?”

Trent hurried out of the noisy restaurant and into the cooling breeze coming from the ocean. He leaned against the restaurant’s side wall and said, “Hey,” feeling like a nervous school boy.

“Hey.”

“I can’t believe you called.” Trent smiled and tried to move to a spot beside the restaurant that was private but a ton of people came and went, so he began walking to his car.

“Had a minute.”

Trent pictured James perfectly, his gorgeous high cheekbones and light brown hair. “So…” Trent laughed since he was so nervous. “Where do you live?”

“In California. But I travel almost every week.”

“God, you sound as sexy as you look.” Trent hurried to his car and noticed some geeky looking guy sitting behind the wheel of a Prius. Those glasses… where did he know that guy from?

“So do you. What have you been up to?”

Trent used his key fob to open his car door, sat down, and started it up, opening all the windows and sunroof to get the cooler wind into the hot car. “Out for dinner.”

“That’s right.”

Trent relaxed on the seat. “So, you don’t give out your private info, huh?”

“Not really. Besides being busy constantly, I don’t like to be harassed.”

“Am I harassing you?” Trent felt a heat wave of lust.

“Yeah, ya shit. Cut it out.”

Trent laughed. “So, tell me something about yourself?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Like how I like to fuck?”

Trent did want to ask, but said, “Something else. I get sick of everything being about sex. Tell me what you like to do.”

“I’m into everything. Love to travel.”

“I need to. Where have you been?” Trent touched himself over his zipper.

“Everywhere. My work takes me all over the place.”

“Do you ever get to LA?” Trent licked his lips. He heard James chuckle softly. “I’m sorry. I must sound really needy.” Trent felt his cheeks flush. “I just feel like we connect, ya know?”

“I’m not sure why you feel that way. Why do we connect?”

“I don’t know. I guess from your text messages I just get the feeling you’re nice. I mean, not filled with ego, or out to just get laid. Am I way off?”

“You got all that from a few text messages? Man, are you clairvoyant?”

Trent felt like an idiot and clenched his fist. “That was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Never be sorry. We could live our whole lives apologizing for speaking our minds.”

Trent looked out of the windshield of his car, but really was just staring into space. “Like that. Shit like that. My friends, they don’t get concepts at a deep level. They think since I have a decent house and I’m not ugly that I’m some moron.”

“I don’t think you’re a moron.”

“I feel stupid compared to you.”

“Why? You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t know. You’re articulate. I can tell you’re well educated. And, Christ, you’ve been everywhere. I need to travel. But I don’t want to go alone, and if I go with a friend, first of all, I’d have to pay their way, and second, they’d drive me crazy.”

“Why do you hang out with people that drive you crazy?”

Trent smiled. “I don’t know. I guess I’m lazy. I take the easy route. That’s not a flattering thing to say about myself. Is it?”

“I’m not here to judge you, Trent.”

Trent felt his eyes burn with emotion. “When can I meet you?” He rubbed at his eyes.

“I’m so busy now. I’m actually headed to New York tomorrow.”

“You have to get your phone fixed. I’d love to actually see you while we talk.”

“It’s on the list. I just have so much shit to do.”

Silence hit. Trent wished he could see James. He really was beginning to like him. “I feel like I’m keeping you from something.”

“You’re not.”

Trent began to get emotional. He didn’t know why. He closed his eyes and then controlled himself.

“Did I lose you?” James asked.

“No. I’m here. Just thinking.”

“Talk to me.”

Trent stared out of the window of his Vette as cars came and went, and a few pedestrians walked by on the sidewalk. “I…”

“Look, you don’t really know me. And I don’t expect you to just open up. Trent… I’m sure you have a ton of friends—”

“I don’t.” Trent dabbed at his eyes. “I mean, I have friends. But no one I would ever tell my secrets to.”

“So… you mean, secrets like you’re not out?”

“No. I’m out. My parents disowned me because of it, but my granddad and I were really close. He gave me an inheritance when he died. He split it between me and my two brothers.”

“That was very nice. I’m sorry your parents did that. That’s wrong.”

“It is wrong, right, James? It is wrong for them to disown me for being gay.”

“Yes. It is. I am so sorry, Trent. But people are ignorant or…”

“Or religious fanatics.”

“Yeah. That’s what mine are. I stay away from them.”

“No! You too! Man, I can’t believe it.” Trent kept wiping at his eyes. “I sometimes feel so isolated.”

“How can that be? You have so many friends.”

About to answer, Trent asked, “How do you know?”

“I mean, on the social network. I don’t know in real life.”

“That? Are you kidding me? That fucking site is the pits. Friends post crap and tag me, I never do it back.”

“I found you.”

Trent smiled. “Yeah. One real guy in a sea of conceited bastards.”

It got quiet again on the other end of the phone and Trent kept feeling as if he were boring this busy man. “Look, if you need to go…”

“I don’t. Not yet.”

“Just tell me. It’s okay. I know you’re really busy.”

“So… you don’t have one person in your life you can confide in? Not one?”

Trent caught a sob in his throat and was so embarrassed he was about to end the call, but he didn’t want to. “One of my friends, he said he saw scratched into the bathroom stall door at one of the clubs in WeHo, ‘Trent Hill is a conceited bastard’.”

“That’s harsh.”

“It’s my own fault.”

“Why?”

Trent covered his eyes and couldn’t answer.

~

Slouched low in his Prius, Parry could not believe he was talking to ‘the man himself’. He saw Trent walk right by his car, only giving him a brief disinterested glance and continue down the block. Parry knew what parking was like, so he imagined Trent had headed to his car. But, what Parry did not expect, was this opening up of Trent. As if Trent was ready for some anonymous listener, someone who would not judge him.

But couldn’t a rich guy like him pay for counseling? Christ, he had cash handed to him by his grandfather? Enough to never work?

“Trent?” Parry asked when he heard nothing. He kept thinking their connection had been cut as Trent created moments of silence. At one point Parry thought he heard him sob, but no way. What could a guy who looked like that have to be sad about?

He kept an eye on the restaurant. He had no idea where Antonio had parked. If Parry was seen this long after he had left the restaurant, hiding in his car on the phone, he knew Antonio. He’d come over to investigate. So far, if Antonio did leave, he must have parked opposite of where Parry was, because he didn’t see him.

“I’m here,” Trent finally said.

Parry slid lower in the seat, getting below the dashboard in case someone he knew did pass. “Why is it your fault? You can’t control anyone else. And most likely they were jealous.”

“No.”

Parry said nothing, giving Trent a minute in case he wanted to elaborate.

And he did.

“I’m a slut, James.”

Parry blinked in shock and didn’t know what to say. “Uh, look, Trent, just because…”

“James.”

Parry shut up.

“I let guys suck me. A lot. But they offer. I never ask.”

Lucky fucking bastard.

“Ya wanna hang up now, James? Huh?”

Parry could hear the hurt in Trent’s voice. “No. I don’t. I do the same thing.”

“You do?” Trent asked.

“You know. When you look good, it’s easy.” Parry thought of all the men on the social network who wanted to fuck him. They didn’t even know who he was. Unreal.

“I know!” Trent said, sounding indignant. “I don’t ask them. They ask me. Then when I don’t do something in return, suddenly, I’m the bastard. I’m conceited. Hey, dude, if I wanted to fuck you, I’d fuck you, ya know?”

Parry took the words like slaps for some reason. He paused and then said, “I feel sorry for the average looking guys. I mean, some of them are probably really cool. But pretty guys like us? We are the ones who are like magnets to the assholes.”

“I know. I guess I’m a shallow snob. I mean, if a guy is out of shape or ugly… it just doesn’t turn me on.”

Parry died inside. This was so useless.

“But…” Trent said, “You’re amazing. I mean that. Inside and out.”

Parry stifled a choke of absurdity. “Come on, Trent. You know if I wasn’t a model, you wouldn’t even be talking to me on the phone.”

He heard a little chuckle then Trent said, “Probably. How stupid is that? Now you know why I’m so lonely. I surround myself in my own image; decent looking guys with no brains. Present company excluded. You’re smart.”

“You have brains. I have no idea who you hang with, but you are smart.”

“Fuck you,” Trent laughed as he spoke, “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Isn’t that what friends are for?”

Another pause hit. Parry checked his battery level. It was good. “Trent?”

“Not my friends.”

Parry was completely confused. “Why not your friends?” Parry thought about how many buddies Trent seemed to have circling him, like he was the sun and they were planets. But maybe all they were, in reality, were black holes. “Trent?”

“I can’t believe I’m talking to you like this. I mean, I never tell anyone the way I really feel.”

“Why not? What are you afraid of?”

Another pause came first, then Trent said, “That if they knew me, they wouldn’t like me.”

“So, you’re either a serial killer or an insecure little boy. Which is it?” Parry expected a harsh reaction but instead Trent laughed.

“Christ, I love you. You aren’t afraid to say what you think.”

You love me? Parry wished that were true. He could use a little love.

Trent added, “My buddies are either into celebrity gossip or talk about wanting to do me. I can’t get into any kind of real conversation. When I try? They either change the topic or look at me like I’m insane.”

“You’re not insane. But you didn’t answer the question. Serial killer or insecure little boy?”

“Definitely not a killer.”

“That’s a relief.” Parry laughed.

“You have a nice laugh.”

Parry stopped laughing instantly. “I do?”

“Yeah. Christ, why won’t you meet with me? I mean, five minutes?”

“I know. Crazy, huh? And I was about to tell you I have to go.” Parry didn’t want to get painted into a corner.

“Oh. Sure. Okay.”

“Trent.”

“Yeah.” Trent sounded completely downtrodden.

“I’m here. Text me. Don’t be lonely. Okay?”

“Sure. Hey, thanks for calling. I mean that.”

“You bet.”

“Hey, what is your number in case—”

Parry hung up. He looked at his phone and leaned his head back on the headrest of the car. Trying to shake off the sense of longing, Parry started his car and drove home, not seeing or hearing anything any longer, just functioning on autopilot. Lost in a pretend world. A world where a man as cool at Trent Hill could be his real friend.

~

“James?” Trent looked at his phone. He frowned and pocketed it. Starting the car, Trent was about to head home when Vance leaned on the open window of his driver’s door. “You’re still here?”

“I… I had to make a few calls.”

“We’re headed to Revolver. Come.”

“Yeah, why not? See ya there.” Trent pulled out of the parking spot and thought about his conversation with James.

He must think I am the biggest loser on the planet. I don’t even know the guy and I’m spilling my guts out. No wonder he won’t give me his info or see me. Christ, he probably thinks I’m a real head-case.

Trent felt like complete shit and drove the narrow streets to the gay club. At least there he could lose himself in go-go boys and drugs.

~

Parry carried his uneaten dinner to the kitchen. He put the container into the refrigerator and removed a bottle of water, drinking it down.

After he finished the entire bottle, dying of thirst from the nerves and warmth inside his apartment, Parry sat down on the sofa in his living room and stared at the television.

His mental state was sinking by the minute.

Suddenly he felt like a moron for making up that profile. He should just delete it.

Resolved to get rid of James Dean, the imposter, Parry felt as if it took an enormous effort to go to his bedroom where he kept his computer. He hated himself for making it up. He was caught in a trap of his own making.

He took off his shoes and sat at his desk, booting up his PC, and ran his hand through his hair. It felt funny, not parting it where he usually did. He took off his glasses and wiped the smudges off, then as the computer loaded, he read the home page, skimming the stories briefly, seeing all the pretty people and their wonderful lives, or the opposite; misery and death.

Before Parry logged onto the social network, he looked up hair salons. He had to do something. His hair was a mass of unruly waves unless he pasted it down, parted it on the side, looking like a geek.

He was stunned to see two hair salons within walking distance from his apartment building, and both had appointment scheduling online. He checked their websites for an opening for tomorrow, since it was Sunday, and it was very tight. He spotted one appointment at nine in the morning, and took it.

After he did, he wrote the information on a piece of note paper and set it aside. Then… he hit the infamous social network.

On his own profile? Game invitations.

On his alter ego’s profile?

All Parry could do was gape in astonishment.

Thirty friend requests, nearly fifty private messages, many including shots of cocks, and sexy invitations to hookup.

Just as he was thinking of hitting the delete button on the account, he became enthralled. It was a secret society of the beautiful. Invitations to gay groups appeared, private, closed to the public where hundreds of videos and photos of men making love were posted.

The moment Parry accepted requests, he was inundated with questions as to where he lived, if he’d like to go out to dinner, a drink, coffee, fuck…

All Parry could do was witness the outlandish race of these strangers to try and get at him, meet him, get his phone number, his email address…

“Son of a bitch!” Parry ran his hand through his hair, which was falling into his eyes now, and leaned his elbows on the desk as he gawked at the naked photos.

Parry stood from the chair and stared at himself. Slowly he removed his clothing. Down to his socks, Parry glanced at the photos, the ‘selfies’ of his social peers and the inadequacy in him hit hard. He forced himself to walk to the bathroom mirror.

His hair was an unruly mess, since he didn’t grease it down, and when he looked at his thin build and bushy pubic hair, he felt totally freakish. Why did all the handsome men shave off their body hair?

He touched his dark pubic bush and wondered if that was simply ‘in’ and a furry patch was a turnoff. He had no idea and other than seeing every selfie photo had a hairless pelvis, he had no one to ask. He tugged off his socks and tossed them into the bedroom, then set his glasses on the sink counter.

Parry stepped into the tub, holding his razor and shave cream. He soaked himself from the chest down and used a ton of shaving cream. Terrified he’d cut his dick and bleed to death, Parry used slow strokes, and the hair began to come off in wet messy clumps. He threw most of it into the trash bin near the toilet.

He shaved everywhere he could, although, not being excessively hairy it didn’t take long, and rinsed off. There were reddish bumps near his balls, but he had done what all the ‘hot guys’ were doing.

Going hairless down under.

Parry touched the tiny patch of hair between his chest muscles on his sternum; shrugged, and shaved it too. There wasn’t much to shave.

He rinsed, shut the water, and toweled dry.

The bathroom had steamed up, so he used the towel to wipe the mirror, opened the bathroom door, and waited to see himself in the reflection.

Tiny drops of blood appeared from where he nicked the little hair bumps. He used toilet paper, and dabbed at it, since it was not actually bleeding, just tiny dots of red.

“Okay.” He tried to slow his breathing since he was panting from the nerves it took to do that to himself.

He looked in the mirror. Did his shaven pubic area make his cock look bigger? Did it? Was that why guys did this?

Parry grabbed his phone, returned to the bathroom, and posed for a few, ‘faceless’ selfies of his own.

He thought he looked too thin, gross, pale, disgusting.

Never in a million years would he share these. Parry walked to the computer, while invitations for friends and groups were rushing in so quickly he was unable to keep up, or believe it.

He clicked on Trent’s profile. He had changed his profile photo. Parry became intrigued. He leaned down to use his mouse and enlarged it. It was also a ‘selfie’ but just from his shoulders, up. And Parry knew it was taken tonight, because of the clothing Trent wore. Unless he dressed in that shirt all the time, but… he was wearing that top when Parry last saw him.

Under the picture of Trent looking sullen and introspective, he had actually captioned it, ‘doesn’t anyone believe in love anymore?’

“Huh.” Parry typed, as James Dean, ‘Love is all you need,’ and hit send. Instantly his phone hummed with a text message.

Naked, and not comfortable being that way, Parry panicked and picked up the phone. It was a text from Trent asking, ‘Can u talk?’

Parry looked around his room, at his clothing, at the shaved naked appearance of his groin and didn’t know what to do. He never expected Trent to text him so soon after talking to him.

Parry tried to text back and his hands shook. He stood, near his bed and dropped the phone, picked it back up, realized he could not see a thing since he was not wearing his glasses and hurried to the bathroom to put them on. When he did, he couldn’t figure out where the text he was typing went.

He scanned the apps and messages and then Trent texted again, ‘holy shit! is that u?’

“Is what me?” Parry panicked and made sure the cell phone was not taking video of him. He was about to throw up.

He set the phone aside and struggled to calm down so he could think. He slipped on his briefs and pants, took several deep breaths and brought the phone to the desktop where his computer was. There, sitting with his glasses on, he tried to figure out what had occurred. A second later a cock shot from Trent showed up on his phone.

“Oh no!” Parry could see he had inadvertently hit ‘attach photo’, to his last text message while blind without his glasses on. The blush of humiliation began at his neck and went from his chest to his forehead. “No! No…”

He set the phone down and covered his face while his phone kept humming beside his elbow. As tears threatened, Parry gained control of his emotions and forced himself to look at his phone. Waiting for the degrading comments and humiliation, the chills of being discovered as a fraud… but he had done this. He had to face it.

Trent had not only sent a shot of his cock, which appeared as if he had pointed his phone camera at his lap while seated at a table, he had written, ‘wanna suck that fabulous dick!’

Parry nudged his glasses up and wiped at his eyes, then tried to reread the text. “Want to suck whose dick?” Parry grew confused and tried to go back to see what the hell had happened.

He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes to calm down, and then read the interaction from the beginning.

Trent asked him, ‘can we talk?’

Parry inadvertently sent a photo he had just taken of his dick… and Trent not only texted his own cock shot back, he wrote he wanted to suck it?

“Me?” Parry scanned the photos he had just taken and the view of his cock from his eye level down.

Trent kept texting, ‘Call me.’

Parry looked at his own comment on Trent’s profile wall, and of course, the hundreds of ‘awww’ and sympathy flooding in for the man with the sad, but stunning, face.

“I started it.” Parry shook his head and hit speed dial for Trent’s number.

“Baby!”

Trent’s enthusiasm threw Parry off completely. “Hey.”

“Wow! A cock shot. James, I never thought I’d get to see it. You hot fucker.”

Parry looked down at his own lap. Hot fucker? He said, “I can’t talk long… actually, I was just packing, you know, I have to catch my flight but I was uh… just checking my emails and shit.” Parry rubbed his face in agony.

“Oh… cool.”

Parry said, “I can barely hear you.”

“I’m at a bar in West Hollywood. And drunk. Hang on.”

Parry could hear loud music in the background, rustling, and then Trent asked, “Better now?”

“Yes. Much.”

“I stepped outside. I hate the fucking bars. Christ, that’s why I took the selfie. I am so tired of this, James.”

“I’m sorry, Trent. But, if you don’t like something in your life, change it.” Parry wondered if he was going to take his own advice.

“A guy like you can change it.”

Parry took off his glasses and rubbed his burning eyes. He was digging such a deep hole here, lying, pretending… He had nothing to say in response.

Trent sounded embarrassed. “I’m sorry, James. I’m very drunk. I didn’t mean to get all sappy and possessive on you. But… you did send your cock-shot to me. I got the feeling you didn’t do things like that.”

“Never.” Parry put his glasses back on. “If I tell you I sent it accidentally would you believe me?”

Trent laughed and said, “No.”

It made Parry smile. “Well, I did. The rushing to pack and catch the flight made me fuck up. But I’m glad I sent it to you and not my mother.”

Trent roared with laughter and Parry couldn’t stop smiling at making Trent laugh, especially after seeing how sad he looked on the profile photo.

“Hey,” Parry said, “You’re not driving home, right?”

“No. Not until I sober up. Not getting a DUI, thank you very much.”

“Good.”

“Then… you care?”

Parry looked at the comments piling up for Trent’s sad photo. You don’t need me. Look at all those men throwing kisses and hugs at you.

“I don’t want to see you drinking and driving,” Parry said, “So, yes.”

“And… love is all I need?”

“Isn’t it what everyone needs?” Parry stopped from choking up and crying. He needed it.

“Yes.”

When Parry actually heard Trent sob, he was stunned. “Trent?” Struggling to hear what was going on through the phone, Parry stood and paced. “Trent?”

“I’m here.”

“What is it?” Parry asked. “I’m really confused, Trent. Explain it to me.”

“Explain what?”

“You have everything. You have friends, a nice life, you’re gorgeous—”

“You think I’m gorgeous?”

“You know you are. You don’t need that shit from me.” Parry grew defensive.

“It’s just the outside, James. I don’t let people in.”

“I wish I could make you see you are a decent guy who is in desperate need of new friends.” Parry sat on the foot of his bed and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“I’d only surround myself in the same. Superficial morons who beg for my cock.”

Poor you!

Parry bit his tongue.

Trent said, “You must too, right? I mean, the body on you. Wow. James, you are fucking hot. But… I’m drunk. Okay? And I don’t just want you for your body. Okay?”

“Ya know what, Trent? Sleep it off.” Parry wasn’t sure where this conversation was going.

“I’m sorry. Did I fuck it up? Are you not going to text me? Unfriend me?”

The insecurity he was hearing was as if he were talking to himself. Trent Hill was insecure and needy? Trent the slut?

“No. I won’t. But I am exhausted and I have to get going.”

“Sorry… really, so sorry, James. I’m a pain in the ass to you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Go. Have a safe flight. Good luck with the shoot. I won’t try to contact you. I know you’ll be busy.”

“Trent…”

“I promise. I’ll let you contact me.” Parry heard a genuine sob of anguish from Trent. “I know you don’t even want to give me your number, or tell me where you live. I know why. Because people fall in love with you.”

Parry opened his mouth and was going to say something, but what could he say to that?

Trent added, “Love you because you’re so nice. So smart… so considerate.”

“Trent… no more booze. Okay? That’s what’s bringing you down. It’s a depressant.”

“You see! You know shit like that!”

Parry flopped back on his bed with a bounce, the phone at his ear. “Trent… I’ll call you tomorrow. Okay?”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I have a few things I have to do. But I will.”

“You’re the best. Thank you, James. I know you’re so busy, and so many guys want you. I feel really special. I do. I would get on my knees for you. And I won’t do that for anyone.”

Parry had no idea what he meant. “Thank you. I think?”

In a low voice, Trent said, “Suck you and let you fuck me.”

“Oh. Sex again. Got it.” Parry rolled his eyes.

“No! I’m sorry. James. I am drunk. I am. Don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“It’s… I never let guys fuck me. I fuck them. And I don’t suck, they suck me.”

Parry rubbed his face. This was torture.

“But enough of that. I only said it because you’re so special to me. I can tell you anything.”

Parry had no idea why he was so ‘special’ other than looking like a fucking model and having model friends on a fake profile.

“Goodnight, Trent.”

“Baby…” Trent choked up. “Forgive me for tonight. For saying stupid things. Please.”

“You don’t need to be forgiven. Just get home in one piece.”

“I will. Love you, James… so much.”

Parry didn’t reply and disconnected the call. He stared at the ceiling and had no idea what the hell just happened, but it was the weirdest call in his life.

~

Trent stared at the photo of James’ cock. “Damn.” He licked his lips in longing. From the tiny photo, Trent could see James was deliciously slender, all his abdominal muscles showed through his skin, and no hair anywhere. And his dick? Soft. He couldn’t see all of it, but it was perfect. Trent leaned against the outer wall of the club. Even from there the noise of music, the passing pedestrians laughing and enjoying summer in West Hollywood, he felt detached. Alone.

And now? After acting like a complete moron to James over the phone? Trent figured he ruined whatever connection there was.

He logged off the social network, completely uninterested in the fake sympathy from his ‘friends’ and texted a message to Brace. ‘goin home bye.’

Was Trent completely sober? No, but he’d driven worse. And the walk to where he parked sobered him up even more. It was cool and breezy and felt fantastic after a hot day. He headed up a steep incline to a side street and in the darkness, his shoe heels the only noise he could focus on. Trent thought about James’s words.

“If you don’t like something in your life, change it.”

Trent looked up to see the sky and crescent moon.

James is right. I surround myself with people just like me. And I hate myself for it.

By the time he sat behind the wheel of his Corvette, Trent felt sober enough to drive. He started the car and drove to his home, thinking about James and regretting everything he said to him. He fucked it up.

Fucked up one of the only ‘real’ friends he felt he had.

James Dean wasn’t afraid to tell him things- like his buddies were. The circle of pals Trent surrounded himself with were out for sex. Sexual favors from him.

But the more he hung out with them? The less he wanted to be around them. So instead of allowing them to touch him, Trent accepted come-ons from strangers.

Trent the slut.

He was. He couldn’t lie or sugarcoat it. He allowed so many men to suck him in his life, he had lost count. And fucked half that many.

He was still an anal virgin himself, if you didn’t count toys. He hadn’t allowed anyone inside him. Rarely sucked cock.

Part of the reason was he was paranoid about his health. The men he was doing sexual acts with he did not know. But he tested regularly for everything, and had only managed to get crabs once, in college. From then on, he shaved his pubic hair.

Yet, it grossed him out enough to keep his distance. Sadly, he had built quite a wall around him.

A slut with no heart.

But that’s what he had turned into; a detached robot that allowed the sexual contact to occur, and then walked away, unscathed, unfeeling, numb.

Not one of the men he had sex with interested him as a ‘partner’ or boyfriend. He knew it was him. His attitude. His issues.

Being unloved by his family, disowned by his parents.

Love meant pain.

Love meant isolation.

Trent stopped while in his driveway and elevated the garage door, pulling his car into it, lowering the door and shutting the engine.

He exited his car and used a remote key-fob to disarm his home alarm. Once inside, he removed his shoes and tugged his shirt over his head on his way to his bedroom. He could smell his own pits from the hot day and packed club.

Standing near his bed, he stripped and entered the bathroom, starting the shower. As the water become lukewarm, he stepped in and washed up, shaving the nubs off his chest and groin, and lavishing in the cleansing of his body.

He only wished washing off his soul and mental state was this easy.

Shutting the taps, drying off, Trent wrapped the towel around his hips and left the bedroom. He opened a cabinet in the kitchen. Pills.

He had every kind.

His doctor knew their family name. And his grandfather? He had built a wing of the hospital this doctor worked in. So? If Trent wanted anything? The doctor asked all the right questions.

“Are you in pain?”

“Yes, well, my back is sore.” Trent would pretend, wince, touch his low back. “I could use some painkillers.”

A prescription of Oxycodone was handed over. ‘Can’t sleep, why, here ya go!’ ‘Worried? Anxious? How about some of these?’

Trent took a few pills with a sweet tequila drink straight from a bottle and sat in his towel on the living room sectional sofa. He pointed the remote at the large flat screen TV and surfed channels. A thousand stations of nothing, except, of course bad advertisements. Commercials had taken over television to such an extreme, Trent no longer watched anything but premium channels.

He shut it off, closed his eyes, and rested his head on the back of the sofa. Soon the pills would calm him, make him sleepy.

But for Trent, every day was like the next. Not worth anything to him.

He thought of James and wondered why he was so guarded, so much so, his phone number was blocked, and when Trent called it? He was told by an automated voice he was not allowed access.

So Trent was unworthy for a man like James.

Unlovable.

Trent felt his eyes overflow and rubbed his face in agony.

His phone hummed.

Trent’s first reaction was to ignore it, because it was most likely a delayed reaction from his buddies that he had left. In the noise of that club? There was no way to hear a text or phone ring.

He forced himself to stand and walked to the bedroom. On the dresser with his wallet and keys, was his phone. He read the text.

‘sorry if I sounded so abrupt. I am just as tired as you and this plane is ready to take off.’

“James.” Trent sat on the foot of his bed and text back, ‘it was me. i was drunk and never shud have called. I shud be sayin sorry.’

‘no. I guess sometimes I don’t know what a guy wants. So I step back. sorry.’

Trent was so relieved James was talking to him again, he tapped quickly with his thumbs to reply, ‘i dont know y i feel so connected 2 u. Im not like this usually. but u r so real.’

‘I don’t feel real. I feel alone. worn out.’

Trent groaned out loud and typed, ‘O god, me 2… james… me 2.’

‘Did you sober up enuff to get home?’

‘I am home. showered. ready to sleep. its late there, yea?’

‘Yeah, 3 hrs ahead where im goin. sleep time for me too. just wanted to make sure you were ok.’

A hot tear ran down Trent’s cheek. ‘thanks. I mean that. can ya let me know when ur done with the shoot? I wont bug ya, swear.’

‘sure. sleep well.’

Trent didn’t want him to hang up. ‘get the vid chat thing fxd. luv you…’

‘its on the to-do list. nite, Trent.’

‘nite, gorgeous.’

Trent watched the signal die and found to the photo of James’ naked torso on his phone. He moaned and began feeling the effects of the drugs. Making it to his feet, holding the wall to guide him, Trent set the phone aside, brushed his teeth and stared into his blue eyes as he did. He rinsed his mouth, tossed the towel over the shower door, and finished washing up.

When the house was secure, the lights were off, Trent climbed into his large bed…alone, and closed his eyes, wondering if a guy as nice as James would ever date him.

Trent frowned and fell deeply to sleep.