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Jeremy awoke to an empty bed. He’d awoken to an empty bed every morning since the accident fifteen years before, so it was nothing new, but he was surprised to realize how disappointed he felt when he opened his eyes and realized the sheets beside him were cool, and there were no sounds coming from anywhere in the apartment. He sighed and flopped on his back, scrubbing his hands over his face.
He didn’t regret crawling into bed with Evan last night—the kid needed someone—and it wasn’t as though they’d done anything but talk, hold each other, and sleep, but he wondered if he’d made a mistake. Crossed a line somewhere. He was trying so hard to not give Evan mixed signals or confuse him any more than he already had, but it was difficult sometimes. When he saw Evan shaking and hurting, it reminded him so much of how he’d felt at his lowest moments. He hadn’t had anyone, and he didn’t want Evan to feel that way.
But Evan wasn’t tucked in bed beside him, and Jeremy wondered what time he’d left and why. Jeremy had lain awake for a long time after Evan drifted off. Evan had slept with his head on Jeremy’s chest for a while before flipping over and curling up in a small ball. Grateful Evan was to his right, Jeremy had carefully rolled onto his side and spooned around Evan, pulling him close. He didn’t want to admit how good it had felt to hold him, not for Evan’s sake, but his own.
Jeremy dragged a pillow from Evan’s side of the bed—no, the side Evan had slept on once because it wasn’t like this was going to become a regular thing—and tried to convince himself he wasn’t checking to see if it still smelled like him. Annoyed with himself, Jeremy shoved the pillow aside with a snarl of frustration and got out of bed.
Even though he was relatively sure Evan had left, he was disappointed when he pushed open the bedroom door. All the lights were out, the television was off, and there was no trace Evan had been there at all. Jeremy walked slowly into the kitchen, feeling the familiar early-morning twinge of pain in his thigh. On automatic pilot, he prepped the coffee maker and hit the power button.
Turning to grab a mug out of the cabinet, he spotted a note on the counter. He smiled, knowing it was from Evan. There was only one word on it. Thanks.
He was surprisingly disappointed by the lack of explanation for Evan leaving, and he searched for his phone in the small pile of papers on the counter where he last remembered seeing it. It was nearly dead, but when he checked his text messages, the most recent one from Evan was from the previous day, and he’d already seen it.
After he plugged the phone in, he checked the time. It was still early, and, thankfully, he didn’t work until afternoon. When the coffee maker beeped, he fixed himself a cup and took a seat on the couch. Once it was cool enough, he absently sipped the bittersweet liquid while he replayed the night before in his head.
It had been difficult listening to Evan’s half of the phone conversation. He’d missed the first part of it, but once Evan grew upset, it had been easy to hear through the half-closed door, and he’d had to fight the instinct to bolt into the room, grab the phone, and tell Evan’s mom to fuck off. Jesus, he’d never understand how a sweet kid like Evan had come out of two such horrible people. The picture Evan painted of his childhood hadn’t been a good one, but after what Jeremy heard last night, he was even more shocked Evan had turned out so well. No big surprise he had a streak of insecurity running a mile deep, but Jeremy was pretty sure he’d get over it eventually.
Evan’s mom had done a number on him the night before, though, and while Jeremy couldn’t blame him for being upset over it, he did hate that there was absolutely nothing he could do to fix it. Evan deserved to have good people in his life, people who gave a shit. And while he did have Stephen and Russ—and yes, himself—he knew Evan wanted a hell of a lot more than Jeremy could offer him.
It was painful for Jeremy to admit he couldn’t be the man Evan needed. And how much he wanted to be.
***
Worrying about Evan filled his head most of the day, and Jeremy was distracted at work. Even his employees noticed. “You okay?” Mia asked him after the third time that day she’d found him staring off into space. “Guy trouble?”
He looked up from the inventory list he was supposed to be reviewing. Everyone at work knew he was gay—he’d never tried to hide it—but it wasn’t as if he had any personal life to speak about, and he hadn’t encouraged his employees to come to him with their trouble unless it affected their work. He grunted. “Something like that.”
She hung out in the doorway to the office, concern filling her big brown eyes. “You wanna talk about it?”
He sat back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Not really.”
“Sorry, boss.” She flushed, and he was reminded of Evan. Then again, what didn’t remind him of Evan these days? Damn kid had wormed his way into Jeremy’s brain and didn’t appear to be going anywhere.
“It’s fine, Mia, but, no, I don’t want to talk. Thanks, though.”
She gave him a fleeting smile. “Well, you know, if you change your mind ...”
He nodded although he didn’t have any real intention of doing it. Some of the managers here were pretty buddy-buddy with their employees, but it had never been his style. He was friendly, yes, but he’d never gotten close to anyone. Then again, who was he close to? He and Stephen were friends—more or less—but the only one who’d gotten through all of his barriers was ... Evan.
“Goddamn it,” he muttered to himself, and Mia turned back to face him.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He glanced at his watch. “Just about closing, huh? Why don’t you get started, and I’ll be out shortly.”
“Sure thing, boss!” She disappeared, and he was tidying his desk when his phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him.
He wet his lips as he saw Evan’s name flash on his screen. Surprisingly, Evan was calling, not texting like usual.
“Hey!” he answered.
“Oh, hey. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to answer or not. You’re still at work, right?”
“Yeah. I’ll be done shortly though. Why, do you want to come over? I don’t work tomorrow so we can binge watch if you want.” He realized he was smiling, glad Evan had called. Glad sleeping in the same bed the night before hadn’t made things weird between them.
“Um, not really,” Evan said. “I have something else in mind.”
“Okay,” Jeremy said, surprised.
“Well, you promised to be my wingman, right? I want you to take me to a gay club tonight, Jeremy,” Evan said, sounding determined.
For several heartbeats, Jeremy could hear nothing but his own pulse in his ears, the sounds from the front of the store a muffled buzz. “Uhh, sure,” he finally managed to choke out. “I did promise you that.”
“I need to get out there if I’m going to meet someone, and I want to. I’m so tired of being alone.”
“Okay,” Jeremy agreed as he closed his eyes and rubbed at the tight knot forming in the center of his chest.
“So, tonight?” Evan asked, determination becoming eagerness.
Jeremy sighed. “Sure, why the hell not, kid? I’ll meet you at your place as soon as I get out of work.” He hung up and muttered under his breath, “Might as well get it over with.”
***
Jeremy didn’t make any effort beyond changing from his work polo and khakis into a pair of jeans and the first button-down he could find. He rolled up his sleeves, took one look at himself in the mirror, and decided it was pointless to bother with anything else. He was never going to be the guy he used to be, so why bother. Besides, tonight wasn’t about him finding anyone, it was all for Evan, right?
He headed straight for Evan’s apartment and almost swallowed his tongue when Evan opened the door. He looked far too good in a fitted black shirt and skinny jeans that showed off his lean, fit body. “You look great,” he managed as Evan stepped back to let Jeremy into the apartment.
Evan glanced down, flushing. “Um, I had help. I couldn’t decide what I should wear so I called Russ.”
The confession made Jeremy smile, but then he noticed Evan’s hair. It was a little longer than Jeremy’s and very fine. It flopped over his eyes most of the time, soft and touchable. Evan wore it slicked to the side when he went to work, like a little boy or a middle-aged man trying to hide a bald spot. With a full head of hair, it didn’t look bad on Evan, but it was crunchy to the touch, and it certainly wasn’t clubbing hair.
“Did, uh, did Russ help you with everything? Your hair and stuff?”
“No, just the clothes. Why?”
“No reason. It’s just, your hair’s a little ...” He wasn’t sure what to say.
“Dorky?” Evan said with a sigh.
Not wanting to hurt Evan’s feelings, he shook his head. “Not right for a club.”
Evan reached up and smoothed it down even more. “Oh.” Jeremy watched Evan’s shoulders slump as what little self-confidence Evan had vanished in an instant.
Jeremy expelled a heavy breath before uttering the words he was sure he’d regret later. “I can help you with it, if you want.”
Evan looked at him, hope blooming across his fine features. “You can?”
Jeremy felt a pang in his chest at the thought of fixing Evan up to appeal to another guy with the goal of getting Evan laid for the first time. Ouch. The thought was more painful than he wanted to admit. Jeremy had been accused of being selfish plenty of times in his life, so he didn’t have a clue where this streak of selflessness was coming from. Damn you, Evan Harris, he thought.
Resigned, Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Come on, let’s go in the bathroom.”
Jeremy followed Evan, trying not to stare at his little bubble butt as he walked through the studio apartment into the bathroom. Jesus, Evan’s ass was tempting at the moment. And damn you, Russ, for suggesting Evan wear skinny jeans, he grumbled to himself. Evan turned, looking at him expectantly. Jeremy scrambled to find a way to help without having to touch Evan himself.
“Why don’t you wash the gel out of your hair, and we’ll go from there,” he suggested. “I can leave if you want to hop in the shower.”
Evan shook his head. “Nah, I can manage in the sink. It’ll be quicker.”
He turned on the water and bent over. Jeremy leaned against the edge of the doorframe and closed his eyes, willing himself not to stare at the tempting sight in front of him. He heard the splash of water as he took a couple slow, deep breaths. This whole night was a fucking mistake. He felt like a freight train barreling toward disaster with no brakes, powerless to stop the inevitable crash.
“Gel’s out,” Evan said, and Jeremy opened his eyes. Evan had dried his hair vigorously, and it stuck up all over. It needed some taming, but overall, he liked the mussed look on Evan. Liked it a lot, actually. A few drops of water clung to Evan’s face, sparkling in the yellow light of the bathroom. Jeremy wanted to reach out and smooth them away with his thumb.
Instead, he cleared his throat. “Do you have anything besides gel?”
“Um, some stuff they told me to buy the last time I got a haircut, but I can never get it to look the way they do.”
Jeremy held out his hand. “Let me try.”
Evan rummaged through one of the cabinet drawers before dropping a small tube in his hand. Jeremy popped open the top and had an odd, fleeting reminder of his favorite brand of lube. He scowled as he squeezed a little of the styling cream into his hand and rubbed his palms together. No, he didn’t need to be thinking about lube and Evan at the same time, especially when he wasn’t going to be the man using the lube.
Jeremy had to take a deep breath before he stepped forward. He stood close enough to feel the heat from Evan’s body as he reached up to touch Evan’s hair, working a little of the cream through it. The rich, spicy scent of the hair product filled the room, but under it, Jeremy could smell the light, clean scent Evan always had. Jeremy was so close he could see the dark ring around the lighter center of Evan’s eyes and the soft, pink lips he’d kissed once and wanted to kiss again. He couldn’t look away from Evan’s face, couldn’t stop thinking about nipping at Evan’s lower lip with his teeth, kissing across Evan’s sharp cheekbones, and licking and sucking a trail down his slender, pale neck.
The insides of Jeremy’s wrists brushed Evan’s skin as he worked, smoothing one small section of hair down, letting another stick out; giving him the messy, freshly fucked look Jeremy had a sudden, desperate urge to create in an altogether different way. Evan’s breathing had become shallow, his pupils dilating a little, and his tongue peeked out, swiping over his lips as the air around them seemed to crackle with tension. Jeremy shifted, feeling his jeans pinch as his cock began to fill, afraid if he leaned forward, he’d feel an answering hardness in Evan’s jeans.
Forcing himself to look away from Evan’s face—which held a puzzled expression—Jeremy kept fiddling with Evan’s hair, trying to get it to lay right. His fingertip brushed the top of Evan’s ear, and Evan shuddered, his eyes closing for a second. Was he ticklish? Or turned on? A sliver of discomfort wormed its way through Jeremy as he wondered who would be the next man to touch Evan’s hair. What kind of guy would Evan meet tonight?
Someone who would gently brush it out of Evan’s eyes with a soft, flirty touch? Or someone who would grab Evan’s hair, using it for leverage while he roughly fucked Evan to a screaming orgasm?
The sliver of discomfort turned into a flaming spear, and Jeremy swallowed hard. Why was he doing this? Why the hell had he agreed to help Evan get laid when the thought of it gutted him? He knew it was the best choice for Evan and for himself, but why did it have to hurt so goddamn much?
“Are you okay? Is your leg bugging you?” Evan asked, frowning. His voice seemed loud as it echoed against the tiles.
Jeremy blinked and shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. “I’m fine,” he choked out, reluctantly letting his hands drop from Evan’s hair. He looked incredible. And he certainly wasn’t going to have any trouble finding someone tonight.
Oh, God, what have I done? Jeremy wondered.
“Are you sure? We don’t have to do this tonight if you aren’t feeling up to it, Jeremy,” Evan said with a worried frown.
“I said, I’m fine,” he snapped then felt guilty at the look of hurt on Evan’s face so he softened his tone. “Sorry. My leg is fine, I swear.”
“You looked upset.”
“Just thinking about something that happened at work,” he lied. “Now move; I need to wash this crap off my hands.”
He bumped Evan’s hip with his own as he slid past, and even the minor contact was too much. His trembling fingers slipped on the faucet handles, and he bowed his head and gritted his teeth together, unable to meet his own gaze in the mirror above the sink. Or Evan’s, who stood directly behind him. He knew Evan was worried, probably blaming himself for Jeremy’s weird behavior, but Jeremy needed a second to pull himself together or he was going to do something stupid like tell Evan to forget the club. Jeremy’s thoughts went straight to the bed in the other room, wondering how Evan’s hair would look after Jeremy had fucked him, imagining it all sweaty and wild from exertion and Jeremy’s hands.
He finished, shutting off the water with a grating squeak of the handles. He turned to the towel hanging on the bar beside the sink without looking at the gorgeous young guy standing a foot away. “Get out, kid, I need to piss before we leave.”
Jeremy didn’t have to look at Evan to know he was probably blushing as he sputtered an apology and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. But Jeremy had no need to relieve his bladder. Instead, he braced himself on the edge of the sink and forced himself to look at his reflection in the mirror. His chin and jaw looked good with the heavy stubble he sported at the moment, and he knew he had a great smile when he bothered to use it. But the wrinkles around his eyes told the world he was well past his prime. He tilted his head to the side and the light caught the silvery scar at his temple. And was that a glint of gray in starting in his hair? Nope, he wasn’t anyone’s idea of a prize. Evan could do so much better.
And it was Jeremy’s job to find the better man for Evan. His stomach roiled at the thought.
With a muttered oath, Jeremy straightened and flushed the toilet to maintain his cover story. When he pushed the door to the bathroom open, he could see Evan staring at himself in the full-length mirror attached to the back of the closet door. There was something in the set of his shoulders that made Jeremy think the clothes he wore and the new hairstyle had given him the sorely needed boost of confidence.
The frustration inside of him melted away as he closed the distance between them, settling his hands on Evan’s shoulders. “What do you think?” he asked, and Evan’s smile lit up his face.
“The hair looks great,” Evan said, and Jeremy squeezed, smiling back.
“Nah, it’s not the hair. You look great, kid.”
Evan was going to make some guy very, very lucky tonight.
***
Half an hour into the night out with Evan, Jeremy had decided a migraine would be a less painful experience.
Now that they were in the club, Jeremy felt awkwardly old in the twenty-something crowd, and the pounding music and flashing lights made him want to be home on his couch. It was a strange feeling for someone who’d always loved crowds, loved the energy and attention, and loved the high of getting lost in the beat of the music. At sixteen, he’d had a fake I.D. and had gotten into every Atlanta gay club that didn’t look too closely. He’d sucked his first cock in the alley behind a place not so different from this one.
On the bus ride there, he’d resigned himself to the idea of playing Evan’s wingman, knowing how important it was for Evan to meet someone tonight. They couldn’t keep going on as they had been, and above everything else, Jeremy wanted Evan to be happy. He wanted Evan to find the kind of guy who would treat him right.
Evan wasn’t going to find the love of his life in the club tonight, but the least Jeremy could do was make sure Evan wasn’t going to find some jackass who’d only be thinking about getting himself off. Jeremy thought of his own first time and winced. The memories were hazy at best; he’d been high at the time, and there was twenty years and a head injury in between, but the little he could recall didn’t leave him with any positive memories. The guy had fucked him bareback—God had that been stupid—and came before Jeremy had a chance to. He’d been none too gentle either, and Jeremy hadn’t even bothered to try to get himself off—just pulled up his pants and gotten the hell out of there. Thankfully, the second guy was far more thoughtful and careful, and sex had been a hell of a lot better after. The memory of the first time left a bad taste in Jeremy’s mouth, though, and he couldn’t stand the thought of Evan having a bad experience.
He glanced over at Evan, watching his rapt expression as he stared at the space filled with dancing, writhing men. The club lights flickered over his face: golds, purples, and blues lighting up his pale complexion, highlighting his sharp cheekbones, and making his features almost exotic in a crowd filled with generic-looking men. Jeremy lifted his hand, wanting to reach out and brush his knuckles across Evan’s jaw, but with a bitter smile at no one in particular, he reached for his glass of Coke instead.
Evan glanced over and gave him a quick, anxious half-smile.
“Having fun?” Jeremy asked.
Shrugging, Evan leaned in. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Why don’t you get out and dance then,” Jeremy offered, draining his glass.
“Come with me?” Evan asked.
Jeremy shook his head and pointed down at his thigh. Dancing in a club wasn’t on the list of things he could manage, no matter how appealing the thought of grinding against Evan was. He thought of the way Evan had felt in his arms the night before, the way his body had fit perfectly against Jeremy’s. He wanted Evan so bad he could taste it. No, no, that isn’t what you’re here for tonight, he reminded himself. You’re here to help Evan find a guy. Jeremy would be a terrible wingman if he let Evan sit at a table all night with him, looking like he was taken.
When he glanced down, he realized he’d crumpled the napkin in his fist. He tossed it in his glass—empty except for the ice—and wished he could drink alcohol. Tonight was the kind of night he’d like to find the bottom of a bottle and drink himself stupid.
“I’m gonna need another drink if I’m going to dance,” Evan said. “Wanna go to the bar with me?”
Jeremy hesitated for a sec. Evan was tipsy already, and if Jeremy was going to send him off with someone, he didn’t want Evan too drunk to be safe, but the kid probably did need some liquid courage. He nodded. “Sure. You may want to take it slow though. And grab water, okay?”
Evan nodded, and Jeremy followed him down the stairs to the bar. The club wasn’t a bad one as far as they went. It was packed, of course, and loud, which he expected. But there was a fairly good mix of people there, though a few more straight girls than he remembered from his clubbing days. He watched the other men as they checked out Evan, some subtly, some so blatantly he was shocked Evan didn’t seem to register any of them.
Evan finally squeezed through to the bar, dragging Jeremy behind him. The bartender noticed him right away. He was hot, though he didn’t do much for Jeremy, and he didn’t give Jeremy a second-look. He stared at Evan though.
“What can I get ya’, sweet thing?” He leaned in, shouting to be heard above the music.
“Can I get a ... a rum and cock?” Evan flushed. “Coke! I mean rum and Coke!”
Jeremy bit back a laugh. At Evan’s age, Jeremy would have used a similar line intentionally as a pickup for a hot waiter or bartender, but from the color of his cheeks, Jeremy would bet Evan’s slip of the tongue was anything but intentional.
The bartender’s grin widened. “Hey, if you want to stick around until after closing, I can arrange the first part. In the meantime, I’ll get you the rum and Coke.”
Evan turned to face Jeremy, surprising him when he buried his head against Jeremy’s shoulder. “Oh, my God, I’m so embarrassed.”
Jeremy chuckled despite the way his stomach churned at the mental image of the bartender fucking Evan in all the positions Jeremy would never be able to manage. Without thinking, he let his hand rest on the back of Evan’s head, playing with the soft hair there, calming him.
As much as Jeremy wanted to hold Evan all night, they were here so Evan could meet a guy other than Jeremy. The words he knew he had to say felt thick on his tongue, and he had to force them out. “If you want him, I guarantee the bartender would take you home.”
But Evan shook his head and took the drink from the bartender without meeting his eyes. He dragged Jeremy away from the bar and back upstairs.
Jeremy sighed as he felt Evan’s sweaty palm against his. He was turning out to be one hell of a shitty wingman, and at this rate, Evan wasn’t going to meet anyone. What was worse was how relieved Jeremy felt at the thought.
Christ, the kid was too damn tempting. He pushed buttons Jeremy didn’t know he had. He made Jeremy want things he shouldn’t. And he was going to break Jeremy’s heart without ever knowing it.