Senior year, 2000
Two days after graduation
LANE SNUGGLED on the couch with David, his arm wrapped around his boyfriend’s shoulder. They’d been dating for nine months; the longest Lane had ever been with anyone since he’d started dating. Not that he’d been with many guys. He hadn’t.
Boyfriends had been few and far between, but at least he wasn’t a total loser.
David’s body warmed his as they watched the latest foreign film David had picked out. Every Friday night they ate dinner, rented a movie, snuggled, and got off.
It was comfortable and easy for Lane to picture a future with David, taking walks to the Café Du Monde, watching movies in the French Quarter apartment Lane had dreamed of, having dinners they would make together.
Lane’s eyes burned from reading the subtitles in the darkened room, but David insisted on using them, not the dub over. A bowl of microwave popcorn sat on the coffee table in front of the couch in David’s apartment.
Lane had lived on campus in the dorm apartment with Matt his entire time at school. David had never complained about it, which thrilled Lane, because the last thing he wanted was to choose between his best friend and his boyfriend.
Lane wasn’t quite sure who would win.
He really liked David, despite David’s streak of selfishness, and hoped to take their relationship to a new level before he moved back home. He’d decided to ask David to come to New Orleans and move in with him, and tonight was the night.
But he loved Matt, as a best friend, so deeply he couldn’t imagine his life without him.
Like he’d promised, Matt had stayed, but the end of their five years was almost up, and Lane knew Matt would leave. He’d been talking about nothing else but going to the West Coast and putting his journalism degree to work.
Junior year, Lane finally admitted to himself that he’d never have Matt, so why not just get on with his life? And he had. He’d met David at the library while doing research for an English paper. David was an English major who planned to teach junior high school. He could teach in New Orleans—they always needed teachers.
Lane planned to return to New Orleans, hire on with an oil and gas company as a geologist, find the next big oil discovery in the Gulf of Mexico, and if he could do it with his boyfriend in tow, all the better.
They shared common interests, goals, and dreams of the future, but so far David had not shared much of his body. They’d been moving slowly, taking time getting to know each other. Not that they didn’t have sex, but it consisted of jerking each other off or rubbing against each other naked, but no oral sex and definitely no fucking. That would change when David agreed to move to New Orleans and live with Lane, he was sure of it.
The movie ended, and Lane rubbed his eyes.
“Tired?” David asked, moving so he could massage Lane’s shoulders, if a bit too hard.
“No, it’s the glare from the television in the dark.” Lane winced at the fingers digging into his muscles. David seemed really nervous.
“Sorry.”
Lane doubted that because he’d told David about it each time, and it was really starting to annoy Lane. David was great in so many ways, but he never seemed to be all that in tune with Lane.
Not like Matt. Shit, they finished each other’s sentences.
Not wanting to think anymore, especially about Matt, Lane twisted around, pulled David back onto the couch, and rolled on top of him. David tensed and frowned as if he didn’t want Lane to touch him.
That had been happening for a few weeks, and Lane hadn’t a clue what it meant.
Now Lane didn’t know what to expect. David didn’t stop him, so Lane sighed, closed his eyes, and focused on kissing David, getting hard as if by rote. David relaxed and rubbed against him, his hard dick at least some proof of desire.
Lane pressed down to meet him, nudging David’s belly with his prick.
David moaned, and Lane swallowed it down as they kissed.
Now this was more like it; they slipped into their routine. He unzipped David’s jeans, reached in, and grabbed his cock. David returned the favor, grasping Lane’s prick in his soft hand and sliding up and down.
They lay on the couch, grunting, stroking, kissing, and working to bring each other to orgasm.
Lane’s cock throbbed, aching for more than just David’s hand. Why couldn’t they suck each other? He’d had one or two blow jobs before from guys he’d dated. Shit, he wanted someone to suck him off. Didn’t David want that too?
He didn’t have to fuck David, and David had never asked to fuck him. As far as Lane knew, they were both virgins. And that was cool.
Lane had been saving himself for the right man, and he thought David was it, and for the first time, Lane thought he might be David’s Mr. Right.
Lane’s arousal grew as he went through the usual mental gymnastics to get off, but he needed more this time. He bent, pushed up David’s shirt, and took David’s nipple in his mouth.
David cried out, arching not into the touch, but away.
“Hey! What are you doing?” He sat up, jerking his shirt back down like a frightened girl getting groped in the back seat of a car.
Lane frowned at his boyfriend. “Making you feel good. Doesn’t it feel good?”
“Not really.” David grimaced and rubbed his chest through his T-shirt as if Lane had bitten him.
“It doesn’t?” Lane couldn’t figure out what was going on. “Is something wrong?”
David’s face flushed, and not with arousal. “Uh, we need to talk, Lane.”
Oh shit, that can’t be good. Lane’s stomach coiled in on itself and his heart beat faster against his chest.
“What about?” Whatever it was, Lane really didn’t want to know about it.
“I can’t see you anymore.” David huffed out a breath and leaned back.
“Oh.” Stunned, Lane couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he stood and gathered his things. “Sure.”
He should have expected it. It had been too good to be true. Sure, Lane didn’t have Matt’s good looks, but he wasn’t an ogre. Still, he should have known this wouldn’t last. He shouldn’t have had all those stupid daydreams of a life with David.
“I’m so sorry.” David sounded as if he really meant it. “But it just happened.” He shrugged. “He swept me off my feet.” What David really meant was he’d just been with Lane until something better came along.
Lane took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out. “I understand.” He moved toward the door, the urge to flee building in his body, along with the tears in his eyes.
He would not let David see him cry. Thank God he hadn’t asked him to move to New Orleans. At least he’d saved himself that embarrassment.
“We fell in love. It wasn’t like I was looking for someone else.” David followed him, still explaining. Lane wanted him to just shut up, afraid David would tell him how good-looking this guy was, how strong and manly, what a genius, and how he didn’t have a problem reading subtitles in the dark.
“What do you want me to s-s-s-say?” Damn, his stutter had returned. Not a good sign. He’d worked so hard at conquering it these last four years. He blinked back burning tears.
Matt would call him a baby right about now. He’d tell him to man up. He’d tell David to go fuck himself. Maybe even punch the guy out.
David stood with his arms at his sides, unable, unwilling to answer.
“How long?” Lane felt so damn tired.
“A month.” David blushed.
How could Lane not have seen the signs that David had been cheating? Shit.
“Are you s-s-s-sleeping with him?” Lane didn’t know why, but he had to ask, had to know, even knowing the answers would hurt.
David paused, his eyes screaming pity at Lane.
Oh yeah. They’d fucked. “I see.” Lane reached the door, opened it, and stepped out into the hall.
“I’m so sorry.” David hung in the doorway, looking like he’d kicked a puppy.
Lane just wanted him to go back inside and leave him alone. “You said that.” Should he say something noble, like I wish you and your new boyfriend happiness? It wasn’t in Lane, so he just turned his back and headed for the elevator.
LANE REACHED his dorm room, his feet dragging. Matt’s Do Not Disturb sign hung from the knob.
Just fucking great. Matt had someone in the room.
Lane did not need this. Not tonight. Not when he’d just been dumped by the only guy during the entire four years of college that he’d thought he might have a future with.
That had not been a problem for Matt. He could have any man he wanted, and he did. Repeatedly. No one stayed for long, but they all left smiling.
Lane closed his eyes, dropped his bag on the floor, leaned against the wall, and waited.
Thirty minutes later, the door opened and a guy stepped out. He shut the door, took one look at Lane, and grinned.
“You must be the roomie,” he said.
Lane recognized him as a tennis player on the college varsity team. Tall, blond, muscles in all the right places. A typical Matt hookup.
The complete opposite of Lane.
“And you must be tonight’s entertainment.” Lane couldn’t help himself, but damn it, it killed him. No matter how many men came and went from their dorm room, though, Lane loved Matt. What was wrong with him?
“That’s me! And let me tell you, I was very entertaining.” He licked his lips, wiggled his fingers at Lane, and then strode down the hall, his tight ass looking so perfect it hurt.
Everything about tonight sucked.
It wasn’t going to get better when he went inside. Lane turned around. Maybe he’d go back to the car. Sleep there tonight.
The door opened. “Hey! Thought it was you.”
“Hey.” Lane sighed, picked up his backpack, and came in.
“Man, you look like you just lost your best friend.” Matt chuckled as he tucked his white button-down shirt into his jeans.
Only every fucking time Matt had hung up that goddamned sign.
“I got dumped.” Lane went to his room, tossed his bag on the floor, and fell facedown onto his bed.
Matt came to the door and leaned against the frame. “No shit. David?” He rolled his eyes. “Man, that dude is nuts to let you go.”
“He fell in love with someone else.”
“While he was with you?” Matt sounded as if he couldn’t believe it, but Lane knew that was his best friend talking, not reality.
Lane nodded. He didn’t want to talk about this, couldn’t stand to see the pity in Matt’s eyes. And he was never going to tell Matt he’d been on the verge of practically proposing to the guy.
“Well, fuck him. Hey, you want me to go over there and kick his ass?” Matt’s curled fists and stiff shoulders said he meant it too.
“No.” Matt’s bravura almost forced a chuckle out of Lane. Almost.
“Well, you can’t lie there and mope about it.”
“Watch me.” Lane spoke into the mattress.
Matt crossed the room and sat on the edge of Lane’s bed. “You know you didn’t love him.”
Lane sighed. “No, I didn’t. And he didn’t love me. I know that.” He rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head.
Matt jerked it away. “So what’s all the pouting about, Lanie?”
Lane pushed up and glared at Matt. God, how could anyone be so fucking dense?
“Pouting? First, I’m not pouting. I just got my emotional ass kicked, so cut me some slack. He’d been seeing this guy while he was with me. All the time he wouldn’t let me do anything but hand jobs, he was fucking this guy!” Lane’s voice reached the territory only dogs could hear.
“He cheated on you? I’m going to kill him.” Matt lurched off the bed and headed for the door, fists clenched, and Lane knew he meant business.
Lane raced after him and grabbed his arm.
“Look—it just hurt. That’s all. That he didn’t ever want me like that.” Lane ran his hand through straight brown hair. Hell, no one had ever wanted him like that.
“Oh.” Matt looked shocked. “I thought you two were doing it. I thought you said so.”
“No, I just let you think that all this time so you wouldn’t think I was so lame.”
Matt fell silent for a heartbeat; then his lips curled up and his eyes crinkled. “I’m so disappointed in you.”
“Well, you gave me so much shit about it, I just went along with it.”
“So does this mean you’re still a virgin?” Matt’s gaze locked on Lane’s.
Lane turned away to hide the truth coloring his cheeks.
“Aw, man. We need to get you laid.” Matt slapped his hand on Lane’s shoulder.
Lane nearly swallowed his tongue to keep from asking if Matt was volunteering, but he knew there was no way Matt wanted him. They were best friends, nothing more.
Lane shrugged Matt’s hand off his shoulder. “No way. I’m not giving it up to a one-night stand or a pity fuck.”
Matt laughed. “Okay, Lanie. Hey, I know this bar where I guarantee you can get blown.”
Lane glared at him. “I do not need a blow job from a complete stranger.”
Matt shrugged. “Suit yourself. Always makes me feel better to release a little sexual tension.”
“I’m not sexually tense!” Lane shouted.
“Uh, right.” Matt rolled his eyes. “How about we just go out and get a drink. Drown our sorrows.”
“Our sorrows? From the look on that tennis player’s face, it didn’t look like you had any sorrows tonight,” Lane snapped.
Matt rubbed his chin. “He’s been chasing after me all semester, so I just let him catch me before I left.”
“Just one for the road, right?” That’s all Matt’s guys were—one-nighters. Unlike Lane, Matt wasn’t a “one guy” man. He’d be playing the field forever.
“Hey, he offered.” He held out his hands.
“And you never refuse. What was it? Suck or fuck?” Lane really didn’t want to know, but this is the game they played, talking about Matt’s conquests. It hurt, but it reminded Lane of where he stood with Matt, and he needed that to keep it real.
“Suck.” Matt shrugged. “Come on, let’s go get that drink.”
“Just one, right?” Lane wasn’t a big drinker, and Matt never really drank more than one, afraid of becoming like his father.
“Sure. Just one.”