I watched the people surrounding me at the party. There’s only one person in the room who interested me, yet Jen will pop up, suggesting that the blonde wannabe singer had been checking me out. Who knew if it was true, or even if Jen cared if it’s true, it was only meant as a distraction.
Sometimes, I wished I could tell her the truth. Then I’d regain my senses and know that she would kill me. I didn’t mean that metaphorically. If she had any idea this person was at the party, she’d flip, but at least assume he snuck in. She could threaten him to leave but I doubt she’d actually bother unless he started talking to her.
He knew better. I might be the only one paranoid about Jen’s reaction but at least he wasn’t antagonizing her.
It was almost two hours since I arrived when I finally spot him. He’s chatting with a buxom blonde. It was only for appearances. He’d make these connections for his business and it worked better if he was an available attractive man than an almost-attached attractive man.
It wasn’t as if he was in the closet because it’s not like he’s concerned about being labeled as gay, or more properly, bisexual. There have been other parties where it would be a guy at the receiving end of this conversation. I’m not sure which sex is the harder one to take. I guess both are being manipulated so it doesn’t make a difference.
If anyone was aware of his real status, they were turning a blind eye. All I was certain of was that Jen didn’t know and I hoped to keep it that way.
I didn’t need that pressure now. All I needed was that somebody. Unfortunately, there was some body – correction, some really hot, muscular body – in that corner sipping drinks with that drunken socialite.
I thought that being in New York would be a good way to start over. Which made it only stranger that it was a guy from that past in Capeside who would be messing up this plan.
He was always the one in control, no matter what or whom he was doing. Right now, that socialite was giggling away, probably claiming she was too drunk to be alone.
Those clear eyes were so certain of what would happen. I’d hardly say it was the look of love, even when directed toward me. I used to think that’s what I needed to get by but I was tired of that person. Every other relationship had been that need for something to fill the space in my heart. I may have been desperate for that feeling but never quite ready to handle it.
At least this time, I was fully aware that wasn’t the goal.
I didn’t care if anyone knew about our relationship. Well, I mean I cared regarding Jen but she was the exception. It wasn’t a case of being back in the closet, too afraid to deal with the consequences of being a gay man. There was nothing to hide or be embarrassed by. It was just sex after all. I didn’t care what Capeside thought anymore, which was a definite step forward.
The night was winding down when he finally acknowledged my presence. Just a slight wave, as though I was an associate from work.
I should know better than to let this continue. That’s what I thought as I walked over to their table, standing out of the blonde’s view, as I informed him with a look I’d see him later. He nodded in agreement, then went back to his banter with the drunken princess.
I went over to Jen, who was dancing with her boyfriend, and told her I was leaving. Normally, she would beg me to wait but their relationship seemed to have shifted from off-again to on-again during the night so there would be much making up to do at his place.
I left the party, partially hoping that I would be followed out. But that was never how he operated. There was a deal to finish and that always came first.
I returned to my apartment, leaving the lights off as I entered. There was no need to see anything or to wonder how I ended up waiting like this every damn time. I sat down in the chair, stewing over this in the darkness.
The truth was that Jen wasn’t nearly as much of a factor as I wanted to believe. If there were a real relationship, telling Jen would be a non-issue, as in the long run she’d be happy for me because I was happy. Since it wasn’t, she would be furious, both for the person and the casualness of the set-up.
The familiar tap-bang-bang knock interrupted my thoughts. I switched on the lamp, discovering it had been an hour since I last checked my watch. It was the signal. I stood up and headed for the door. I tap once back, letting him know it was safe, then unlocked the barrier.
I try to say hello but he cut me off with a kiss then used his weight to lead himself inside. I manage to shut the door as the force guided us to the bedroom. We both furiously want to touch each other, the welcome familiarity of this rushing back.
He pushed my sweater up, desperate to get it over my head and, more importantly, off my body. I was content with tasting the skin from his cheekbone down to his shoulder blade, though I break away just long enough for his quest to be successful. I then return to his neck, all the while undoing buttons on his shirt, until he’s able to shrug out of it.
Before this gets too far out of hand, I push him back, gasping, “This won’t work.”
He gave a confused look. “What’s wrong? Is this about Rachel?”
“Who?”
“The lady at the party.”
I shook my head. “No.” Then I corrected myself, “Well, sort of.”
“It’s only business, Jack.” He tried to apologize by having his mouth cover mine, a heat-filled searing touch.
“I know,” I murmured against his mouth. “But…why me?”
This was enough for him to stop. “Are you doubting what we have here?”
“What do we have here? You sneak into my apartment, fuck me then act as if it was just another business transaction. Except I don’t actually know what you gain from this.”
He’s distracting me, as what seems to always happen when having a serious discussion. His hand undid the button of my jeans and guided the zipper down. “Are you thinking this is only for sex? I wouldn’t go through all this trouble if it was purely that.” His hand was on my dick, slow movements up and down. “You have to relax.”
“How does fucking me help you? I don’t see you getting anything out of it, unless you’re jacking off in my bathroom before you slip out.”
“This is not a one-sided affair,” he insisted, speeding up his hand as he captured my mouth again. His body was pressed up against mine, beads of sweat dropping onto my chest. “You’re the one afraid of the blonde.”
I shoved him harder, almost succeeding in getting him off the bed. I wished it wasn’t so much of a turn-on to be angry with him. My dick strained against my jeans, wanting me to just shut up and let him finish the job. “It’s a game to you. If I told her right now, you would rile her up until she gave in. Once she would actually do that, you’d be out the door, satisfied that you managed to fuck up everyone else’s lives.”
“Don’t you think this is a rather extreme way to screw around with another person?” He wanted me to think that I couldn’t affect him, but he was just as angry. “Okay, yeah, I know Jen but that first night we were together had nothing whatsoever to do with her.”
“Random drunken encounter,” I dismissed.
He sat back on the edge of the bed. “Maybe so but it had been a big deal.” He picked up the previously discarded shirt off the rug. “Make up your mind, Jack. If you want the ‘random drunken encounter’ relationship, this is fine. But it seems clear to me you don’t. You want that settled, familiar relationship to show off to everyone else. I’m not interested in that right now.”
“What makes you think I want that?” I thought I’d been clear in wanting something casual.
“There are millions of men in New York City yet you choose the only one who’d know about your past. Maybe we weren’t best friends forever back in Capeside…”
“Definitely not,” I corrected.
“But it’s still Capeside. That’s where you want to be.” He slipped his shirt back on, not interested in buttoning it.
“Leave,” I ordered.
I watched as he walked slowly to the door. For a moment, I wanted to take back everything. Even as I knew he was right, admitting that would be the worst possible admission. “If I were to return to Capeside with you, it would never work. It’s dead, what with its sock hops and five-and-ten stores. It’s boring, just like you, McPhee.”
As the door, then the main door slammed shut, I called out, “Get lost, Valentine.” Damn, had to let him think he got the last word.