Must Like Spinach

by Con Riley

  She’s not wrong. “It’s a good place to think.” And to remember, he’s noticed. Some of the best parts of his childhood have risen to the surface since coming to this city. Instead of recalling his mom stressed and upset, he’s remembered better moments in a very similar setting. It’s been such an unexpected gift he couldn’t have guessed he needed. Jon opens his food container. A haze of scented steam obscures Tyler’s face for a second. When it clears, he’s carefully looking away, and he sounds neutral when he asks a question.

  “So, Jon. You think I found you another good place to eat?”

  Jon looks over his shoulder. So many shades of green soften the stark modern buildings, and pathways weave between shrubs and flowers that are well established. He sees a student reach out as she walks, busy talking to a friend, her hand drawn to the spherical head of a tall allium that she pats as she passes. The whole place invites touch and interaction, planned by someone with holistic vision. Tyler’s gaze certainly lingers like he wishes he could follow in those students’ footsteps and hang out here for longer.

  “This isn’t a good place to eat.” Jon spears blackened chicken that smells delicious with his fork. What he says next is truthful. “It’s perfect.”

  When he looks up, Tyler is opening his own food, but the steam from his red beans and rice can’t mask the pleased smile that blossoms.

  Chapter 16

  SHARING DESSERT fairly between them is a challenge. Despite coming from a food truck parked on a city side street, peach cobbler never tasted so good. Jon only tries to tug the bowl closer to him once before Tyler levels him with a stern glare. “Try that again and I’ll fight you.” He slides his feet around Jon’s under the bench as he says it, their ankles knocking together, so he doesn’t take serious offence. Instead he wipes his mouth and then crumples his napkin.

  “That was good.”

  “Damn straight.” Tyler gives his fork a slow lick. “And this isn’t even the best place to eat in Seattle.”

  “You holding back the good stuff?”

  “Yup.” Tyler stands. “Otherwise, what’s going to keep you interested? Right now, you only want me for my primo picnic locations.” He gathers their trash. “It’s always good to keep something in reserve. Didn’t your mom tell you not to give it all up on a first date?”

  Jon joins him as he heads for the nearest trashcan. “No, Jesus.” Their conversations had revolved around how he was doing at school. “Did you use to talk to your mom about sex?” He wishes he could haul back the words when Tyler’s expression shadows. “Hey, listen….” He grabs Tyler’s elbow. “I didn’t say anything this morning when you mentioned missing your mom, but I’m sorry. I really am. I know it’s hard to get reminded.”

  “Reminded of what?”

  “Of losing a parent.”

  Tyler’s inhale is sharp, but his words come out in a rush. “Shit, Jon, no. My mom’s alive and well, as far as I know. So is my dad.”

  Losing touch is still a loss, Jon decides, even if for a different reason. Tyler doesn’t elaborate any further. Instead he deposits their trash and then holds out the map, his tone only somewhat subdued as he neatly changes the subject. “You want to explore before it gets dark?”

  They talk as they walk, and Tyler stifles a few yawns as Jon lingers to take photos. “Sorry,” he says, head bent over his phone. “Just want to Instagram these.” He chuckles as he imagines what the hell his roommates will make of some horticulture in their timeline. That chuckle dies away when he looks ahead at a walkway between buildings. The Japanese influence is clear, from the neat lines of the planting to the careful positioning of each rock and tree. It’s simple, striking, and solemn, and he’s preemptively sad he won’t get to see the foliage change to fiery shades in fall.

  Tyler yawns hugely when Jon gets done taking more photos. “That was a lot of food, and it’s been a long week,” he admits. Not to mention that he was up early making a breakfast to share. When he asks, “You mind if we head back?” Jon quickly agrees.

  The drive back is faster now that traffic has lightened.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks after Tyler gets done giving directions. Maybe he can take him out, even if the only places he knows are the diner and the pizzeria. He’ll definitely look up someplace else where Tyler won’t get called on to tie on an apron halfway through their dinner.

  “Tomorrow? I’m working.”

  “Again?” That’s every day this week, by Jon’s estimation. Every day since he got into town, now that he pays attention.

  “Yup.” The headrest cradles Tyler’s head, like he’s fully relaxed and drowsy. “I got a new home-care client. It’s only one shift covering for their regular caregiver. I’ll be back by evening.”

  “Come over.”

  “Sure you don’t want to pace yourself, Jon? You’re here for another month or two, right? Might get awkward if you get sick of me way before you have to leave town.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Jon says and pulls into Peggy’s driveway. The porch light clicks on before he’s even killed the engine. “Besides, it looks like we won’t go unchaperoned for long enough for me to get into your pants, let alone get bored with you.”

  “You want in my pants?” Tyler sounds delighted.

  It’s easy to be honest when the last rays of low evening sun light Tyler up so that he glows. “So much.” But he wants more of today too—more time together outside, exploring the whole city. “Do you really have to work quite so much on the weekend?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tyler doesn’t sound bent out of shape exactly, but something in his relaxed expression tightens when Jon asks, “Don’t you deserve a day off?”

  “I have bills to cover.”

  Somewhere inside his head, Jon hears a mental klaxon go off, warning him to let up. He runs his mouth regardless. “Like what?”

  His brain eventually engages when Tyler huffs out a simple order. “Ask me to come up for coffee.” That interruption leaves Jon’s mouth hanging open. It closes with a distinct click when Tyler presses a thumb to the underside of his chin. He keeps the pressure up just long enough to say, “I’m not one of your work projects to dissect, and I’m not about to have a conversation about something I won’t change. So, ask me to come upstairs before Peggy comes out to see if we’re really making out in her driveway.” He unfastens his seatbelt and then pauses. The look he slants Jon’s way is pointed.

  “Uh.” Jon gets with the program. “Come up. For coffee?”

  “Thank you for your kind invitation. I think I will.” Tyler has his car door open in a blink. He turns before getting out. “Just to be clear”—that indent at the side of his mouth is as clear as his intent—“I don’t actually want anything to drink.”

  For once, Jon doesn’t notice the stairway’s groans. He’s too fixated on the bunch and flex of Tyler’s ass as he climbs the steps ahead of him, taking them two at a time, like he wasn’t almost half asleep only a few minutes before. Jon fumbles the key in the lock, finally sliding it home at the same time as Tyler whispers, “Hurry.”

  He’s never been so pleased at his apartment’s scant square footage.

  The distance between doorway and living area is only an arm’s length, and Tyler slides his hands underneath Jon’s shirt before he even gets the door closed. His grip on Jon’s hips is firm once it slams home, guiding him the few steps before the back of his knees hit the couch. He pushes, and Jon goes down hard. Tyler strips out of his T-shirt and follows his fall, crowding him into the floral cushions as they kiss. “There you go,” he says when they break off for breath, and he situates himself between Jon’s legs. “All that education, but I still had to spell it out for you.”

  “Spell what out?”

  Tyler shows rather than tells him, kissing Jon on the mouth until he’s unfastened enough of his shirt buttons to get his mouth where Jon’s neck meets his shoulder. The sensation of his lips there—kisses turning to sucks, teeth scraping and almo
st biting—sends a shaft of pleasure so bright Jon imagines it lighting up the whole room. Instead, the neon glow cast by the sign over the pizzeria is all that illuminates them. He curls a hand into Tyler’s hair when he sucks much harder. The way he pushes his hips against Jon’s the whole time is just as intense, as is the way he braces both hands on Jon’s chest to push up so that their lips meet again. This time, neither of them jokes around or is in a hurry to move on. They both open their mouths so their tongues can dip much deeper. It’s wet and hot and so good, and Jon keeps a hand in Tyler’s hair the whole time—silk winding around his fingers—while his other hand skims down Tyler’s back, where access to more bare skin is blocked by the waistband of his pants.

  “I want—” Jon’s words get lost in another kiss. “Can you—?”

  Tyler unfastens his belt, pulling it free with a hiss and clatter when it falls to the floor. He pops his fly buttons too, his mouth on Jon’s throat again, biting for a second when Jon’s hand meets his bare ass.

  It feels as good to Jon as it looked earlier. He spans firm, warm skin he wants to explore next with his mouth, his fingers digging in and kneading as he ruts up harder.

  They both move faster, kisses missing sometimes when their rhythm stutters. Tyler’s spine dips deeply when Jon lets go of his hair and strokes all the way down his spine, and he rocks down against Jon again, his cock hard through layers of fabric. When Jon slides both hands under his pants and grasps his bare ass with two hands, Tyler squirms and pants, then he jumps when Jon slides a finger between the cheeks of his ass.

  His stillness is sudden.

  He’s not even breathing.

  Jon quickly slips his hands above Tyler’s waistband. “You… you good?”

  “Y-yeah. Very good.”

  “You want to take this to the bedroom?”

  They’re so close that the sound of Tyler’s swallow is loud, and his voice comes out strangled. “Not sure I’d make it.” Tyler rocks like he can’t help it, this time shifting his hips in a shuddering roll.

  It’s an amazing feeling, apart from the fact that Jon’s cock strains inside clothing that’s now too tight for comfort. “It’s not that far,” he gets out. “This would feel a lot better nake—”

  “Nope.” Tyler’s cheek feels red hot against Jon’s when he adds, “I’ll come the second you touch me.” There’s a note of embarrassment to his desperate laughter. “Fuck. I can’t believe I’m so close.” His hips stutter again, and the next sound he lets out is a whimper.

  Jon can’t regret not getting his pants off. He can’t even regret not getting to see Tyler naked, not when he hasn’t done anything like this for so long, sharing so much pleasure in a simple make-out session. It’s an action-replay of dry humping in a high school friend’s basement, fully clothed in case his mom came down to use the drier. It’s just as frantic now as back then, with his clothes rucked up and half unbuttoned, and a damp spot spreading on the front of his pants from how turned on Tyler’s got him.

  Tyler shifts gears, giving up on trying to hold back, his movements are quick and jerky as he clutches at Jon’s shoulders. He’s too far-gone to argue when Jon switches position, rolling them so Tyler’s underneath him. Jon’s halfway off the couch, one foot braced on the floor, but it doesn’t matter that it’s awkward, because Tyler’s gorgeous like this, flushed and on the cusp of coming while pressed against faded cushions. He bucks when Jon slides a hand into the front of his pants, then contracts at Jon’s hand on his cock, almost curling away before surging forward, so close to the edge that the web of skin between Jon’s thumb and fingers gets wet.

  “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Don’t you stop.” Tyler tenses, caught for an extended moment with his back arched, his face tight with pleasure that looks almost painful. He comes as Jon leans forward, kisses muffling the curses he lets out until he quiets and shivers under his touch, sensitive and sated.

  He was wrong, Jon decides, as he unzips his own pants and wraps wet fingers around his dick. He’d thought that Tyler close to coming was hot, but that’s nothing compared to the sight of him stretched out like this, with semen splashed over his belly, smiling as he comes down. This version of Tyler is soft eyed, like he believes Jon hung the moon that peeks through the window. He’s come-drunk and handsy, reaching out to touch whatever he can—Jon’s face, his lips, a nipple. His delight lights him up in this darkening room, beaming when Jon braces an arm against the back of the couch.

  “Damn,” Tyler says, admiring the bulk of his bicep before his gaze falls south. “You just had to be in proportion all over, didn’t you?”

  Jon chokes back laughter that sneaks up, wild and unexpected, at Tyler’s admiration. “It is what it is,” he grits out, orgasm finally cutting loose when Tyler cups his balls and rolls them. He closes his eyes as he comes, opening them to Tyler wiping smears of come from his chin.

  “Oh, shit.” He shudders, aftershocks quaking hard enough it feels like the building’s shaking. “Didn’t mean to get you.”

  “Sure you didn’t.” Tyler doesn’t seem to bear a grudge about getting messed up when Jon uses his own shirt to clean him off. He wiggles sideways instead, once Jon’s done, freeing up a few more inches of couch cushion. “Now get up here and kiss me some more.”

  It’s all good—so good—but the best part of the whole evening is having time to make out like this rather than making a hurried exit. It’s so much better to share the afterglow tonight instead of saying goodnight to a nameless stranger. “Stay,” Jon says and means it.

  Tyler looping his arms tight around his neck feels like agreement, so his verbal “I shouldn’t” is disappointing. He kisses Jon one last time before sitting, and then retrieves his crumpled T-shirt. “No point in both of us having to wake up early when I go to work at dawn o’clock tomorrow.”

  Sharing a lazy Sunday morning in bed with him seems a whole lot more appealing. Jon asks, “You sure you have to work first thing?”

  “Yes.” Tyler stands and pulls up his pants. “Did you see where my belt went?”

  “It’s behind the couch.” Jon watches Tyler dress when he’d much rather he was taking off the rest of his clothes. He’s lean everywhere Jon’s solid, but he’s also strong in ways he wants to investigate for a whole lot longer. “I wish you would stay.”

  “Listen.” Tyler draws in a breath like he’s carefully measuring his words. “I know I work a lot of shifts. I get how it looks, but it’s still not nearly enough.” He threads his belt through its loops. “I’ll date you Jon, but you might as well know that I’ll drop you like a red-hot penny if someone offers me work.” He runs his hands through his hair, futilely trying to tame it as he heads for the door. “It’s nothing personal.”

  It feels that way distinctly until he turns on his heel and comes back for a kiss. Tyler pulls away again, slowly this time, like he’s reluctant. With his back to the window, his face is completely shadowed. “It’s something I have to do until I get enough cash.”

  “For what?” Jon asks and then recalls their earlier discussions, and the way his gaze had followed those SU students. “You want to go back to college? For nursing? I can help you figure out loans, if you like.” Maybe Eric could help him with scholarship applications.

  “I can’t afford college, Jon.” He lets out a snort like even the thought is ridiculous.

  “So what are you saving for?”

  “For Danny,” he says as he opens the door, like it’s an obvious answer.

  “For your ex?” Jon sits up and then stands. “What the hell does he need that means you need to work like a dog?”

  “I don’t work like a dog.” Tyler crosses his arms firmly. “Plenty of people hold down a couple of jobs at a time.”

  Jon takes a few steps to reach out and touch him. “Hey, I’m on your side.” Tyler’s tension subsides under his palm. “It’s just that plenty of people get to have a day off as well.”

  “I thought I already explained this. I’ll have a day off when I get don
e.”

  “Done with what?”

  Tyler’s last kiss is short, but it’s as sweet as the smile Jon catches when Tyler says, “Making up for trusting the wrong person,” and then tilts his head toward the house across the driveway.

  “Wait. I thought you said Danny took cash from the diner. Is it Candice who you’re paying back?”

  “Nope. I already did that.”

  “So what does you working day and night have to do with Peggy?”

  “Everything,” Tyler admits. His wistful smile fades, and Jon’s surprised how quick determination takes its place. “Peggy only trusted Danny because I did. She only ever gave him a second chance because I took him back like a fool. So….”

  “So what?”

  Tyler’s exhale is quick, and he speaks fast like the words are a Band-Aid to rip off. “So it’s my fault he had a second chance to help himself to her savings.”

  Chapter 17

  TRAFFIC’S LIGHT on his Monday morning commute, the route so familiar by now that Jon only gets lost in his thoughts. He replays the way Tyler blamed himself for the actions of an asshole and the way he dismissed Jon’s instant reaction to call the cops. With no hard proof, and given the fact that Peggy kept her savings scattered through the house in envelopes that anyone could help themselves to, he guessed Tyler had made the right call. Throwing Danny out and then keeping a close eye to ensure no one else could take advantage of her, was likely what he’d do too.

  Recalling Tyler’s final kiss at the top of the steps—slow and sweet and so good—takes up the rest of his journey, and he finds himself in the breakroom pouring a cup of coffee before he even knows it. By the time he adds creamer to his cup, the interns block the doorway, with Eric at their center.