by Alexa Land
“I can’t believe you have the energy to do that now,” Christopher said, sitting up and wiping the sweat off his forehead.
“Might as well get it done,” I said, doing another rep.
My friend pushed himself off the couch. “I’m going to go get a hot shower before all my muscles seize up,” he said, and headed for the master bathroom.
Brian was watching me from the adjacent dining room. Once Kieran had returned from talking to Cole, the brothers had settled in around the table and begun drinking beer, engaged in some sort of deep discussion. As I could have told them, by the way, Cole had solid alibis for the time of the phone call and the break-in, so he was on and off the suspect list in the blink of an eye.
Eventually, Kieran had admitted defeat with his back pain and went to lay flat on his mattress, which was when his brother had turned his attention to me. After a while, Brian came up behind me and said, “Take a break, Hunter.”
“Just a few more.” I repeated the exercise a couple more times. Heel, knee, palm. Heel, knee, palm.
“That’s enough for now. Come here.”
“I’m almost done.” Heel, knee, palm.
“No you’re not. Your compulsiveness is kicking in.”
“It’s not.”
“Oh yes it is.”
“Kaia told me I had to practice.”
“She told you to do a hundred reps. You just passed two hundred and forty.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. “Were you actually counting?”
“Yes.”
“And you call me compulsive!”
“Because you are!”
Heel, knee, palm. “Just five more minutes.” Heel, knee, palm.
“Do I need to forcibly restrain you?”
“Oh, please try. Then I can practice this move on you,” I said, grinning over my shoulder at him.
“It wouldn’t work on an assailant in a wheelchair.”
“The last part would,” I said, spinning around and tapping his nose lightly with the tip of my finger.
Brian flicked the switch on the armrest and spun his chair around quickly, bumping me with his knees, enough to make me lose my balance. He scooped me into his lap and put an arm around me. “You were just looking for an excuse to cuddle me,” I teased.
“Yup. That, and watching you be so manic was making me all twitchy.”
He was cradling me the way someone would hold a child, and reached up with the fingertips of his injured hand to gently brush the hair from my face. I watched him for a while, and had such an urge to kiss him, especially because there was so much longing in his eyes. But instead, I said quietly, “You confuse me, Brian. You’re such a contradiction. I have absolutely no idea how someone could call his brother a faggot, and yet also be so sweet and tender with another man.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“You can tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
“Do you like what I’m doing right now?”
“Yes.”
“Then just relax and enjoy it.”
“But why are you doing it?”
Brian sighed as he swung me off his lap and onto my feet. “Because I like you. And I’m done talking about this now.” He spun himself around and took off across the apartment, and I trailed after him.
This seemed to annoy him. When he ran out of apartment, ending up in Christopher’s home studio at the end of the hall, he pivoted around to face me and said, “Just so you know, I’m not exactly the type of person who sits around talking about his feelings. I—”
“I like you, too, Brian.”
“What?”
I climbed onto his lap again, this time straddling him, and took his face in my hands. “I said I like you, too.” I kissed him gently, and after a moment he returned the kiss, his arms encircling me.
Eventually he said, “You have terrible taste in men.”
I smiled at that. “Yes and no. This time, I have a feeling I found a diamond in the rough.”
“You didn’t. You just found the rough.”
“Scoff all you want, but this feels right. You feel right.”
“How could I possibly feel right? Your instincts must be seriously out of whack. Like to the point where you need some sort of instinct intervention.”
I kissed him once more, and again he responded, taking it a little deeper, his lips parting, his tongue gently sliding between my lips. After a while, he pulled back and said, “You have to stop kissing me.”
“Me! You’re the one that upgraded it to Frenching.”
“That wasn’t Frenching. That was just a little lick.”
“Oh, it was Frenching.”
“Please. This is Frenching.” He tipped me back a little and proceeded to illustrate his point. He kissed me fiercely, deeply, his tongue claiming my mouth as his hand slid under my t-shirt, caressing my back. When he pulled me upright again, we were both more than a little overheated. But all he said was, “I think it’s gross to call it Frenching, by the way. Makes it sound kinda nasty.”
“What would you suggest?”
“Well, at the very least, French kissing. But it needs a better name.”
“You’re not wrong.” I leaned in and kissed him again.
“Didn’t I just say you have to stop kissing me?” His big hand was still on my back, holding me to him.
“So many mixed messages.” My lips found his once more, and he returned the kiss passionately.
“Damn it,” he muttered against my lips. “Why do you have to be so incredibly tempting?”
“There’s no reason not to give in to temptation.”
“There’s every reason. In no way can I go where this is leading.”
I reached down and rubbed his thick, swollen cock through his clothes, his erection straining the fabric of his jeans. “Parts of you beg to differ.”
He plucked my hand off his crotch and held it. “I mean emotionally, not physically. It would be really unfair to you to even try.”
“Why do you say that?” I draped my arms around his neck and rested my forehead against his.
“Because I’m a huge mess. I know I’ve seemed better these last few days, but that’s only because of you. This is going to be the single corniest thing I’ve ever said, and I can’t believe I’m saying it, but…you brought light into my darkness, Hunter. When I said you were like sunshine, that wasn’t just random. I’ve been in such a dark place for so long, and you’ve distracted me these past couple days. The thing is though, my demons aren’t gone. They’re all still right there, waiting. And when they find their way out again, I don’t want you to be anywhere near me.”
I kissed his forehead, then said, “That was quite a speech, for someone that doesn’t like to talk about his feelings.”
Brian grinned a little. “It’s ridiculous. You put my former therapist to shame with the stuff you get me to open up about.”
“You know,” I said, “This doesn’t have to be a big deal. We can just be fuck buddies if you want, we could keep this really light and just have fun.”
His grin broadened. “You say that so casually, just be fuck buddies. As if sleeping with another man is something I do every day.”
“It could be,” I said with a big smile. “Every. Single. Day. Three, four times a day, even.”
He chuckled at that. “Stop making it sound so easy. It’s not, you know.”
“Oh, but it is.” I kissed him again.
When he pulled back, he had one eyebrow raised, a skeptical look on his face. “Why are you trying so hard with me? You’re obviously the type of guy that has men falling at his feet. It doesn’t make any sense that you’d pursue something with me.”
“I told you Brian, I like you. I feel good when I’m with you. More than that. I feel safe, and that’s kind of huge.”
He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “So that’s what this is. You must be feeling really vulnerable right now, with that stalker making threats an
d breaking into your home, so you’ve latched on to the first person that came along. I was just in the right place at the right time.”
“Maybe I have latched on to you a bit. I tend to be kind of clingy anyway, I know this about myself. But Brian, what part of I like you aren’t you hearing?”
“There’s no way. I mean, look at me.”
“Well, you are a couple years past due for a haircut,” I teased. “But I won’t hold that against you.”
“That’s just the start of what’s wrong with this picture.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’d better not be saying what I think you’re saying.”
“What do you think I’m saying?”
“That I wouldn’t want you because you’re in a wheelchair.”
“Not only because I’m in a chair, but because I’m half a man.” I punched his arm, and he exclaimed, “Ow! What was that for?”
“That was for thinking I’m completely shallow,” I said as I climbed off him.
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Sure you did!”
“All I meant was, there’s just no way that you could be attracted to this. Even if by some huge miracle the chair and the fact that I’m a double amputee didn’t bother you, there’s everything else wrong with my appearance, the hair, the beard, the spare tire—”
“I have a newsflash for you, Brian. When I look at you, I don’t see any of those things. I see you. I see a guy with beautiful eyes and a great smile, and a sense of humor that sneaks up in really unexpected ways. I see a guy that makes me happy.”
“You can’t expect me to believe that looks mean nothing to you. I mean, you’re someone that works out constantly, colors his hair, wears designer clothes, and I’m pretty sure that tan came from a salon. You’re all about physical appearance!”
“I’m all about physical appearance when it comes to me! I do constantly work on myself, and I am deeply concerned with how I look. You left out the regular facials, full body waxing, and tooth whitening in my list of vanities, by the way. And all of that is because this—” I waved my hand down the length of me, “— is all I am! The only way I make a living is by being a pretty face and a nice body, and the only reason anyone ever wants me is because of what they see on the outside.”
His expression softened. “I’m sorry, Hunter, I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did. You think I’m nothing but this shallow, self-absorbed little twink. But I know what it feels like to be valued only for my physical appearance, and I try not to do that to other people in return.”
He knit his brows. “So, when you go out to the bars, you’re not just looking for the buff guys with big biceps. Right.”
“I’m not going to lie and say I don’t admire a hot body. I mean, who doesn’t? But it’s not like big, muscular jocks are the only thing I find attractive.”
“I’ll bet that’s who you seek out to take you home, though.”
“Brian, I seek out whoever will have me.”
He seemed surprised at that admission, and I felt like an idiot for having been so candid with him. I started to leave the room, and he called after me, “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. All I know is, I’m so totally done having this conversation.”
“Wait, come back.” When I didn’t respond, he added, “Please?”
I turned and looked at him. “Why?”
“Because we’re not done.”
“Sure we are.”
“I don’t think you’re shallow, Hunter. I think you’re too good for me.”
I put my hands on my hips and studied him for a long moment. He held my gaze steadily. Eventually I said, “Well, that’s just your lack of self-esteem talking.”
He grinned at that, relaxing his posture a bit. “Pot calling the kettle much?”
“Yeah, it’s not news to me that I have self-esteem issues. So sue me.”
“I’d rather go back to kissing you.”
“Ugh!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air. “You’re so damn frustrating! Either you want me or you don’t. Which is it?”
“I want you. Even though I can’t have you.”
“Yes, you can! Well, unless you keep being such a colossal pain in the ass. I mean really, what do I have to do, gift wrap myself?”
He grinned at that. “You’d look cute with a bow on your head.”
“You’re driving me insane, Brian. You know that, right?”
“Sorry. I’m really not trying to play games. All I’m trying to say is, I’m attracted to you and love being with you, but I can’t get involved with you. I can’t get involved with anybody. I’m just way too damaged, inside and out.” Then he added, “And also, holy shit, I can’t believe I’m still talking about my feelings! Is this what gay men do? Now that I’ve gone over to the pink side, am I doomed to a life of sharing and communicating?”
I laughed at that. “I love how you make those sound like dirty words.”
“They are. They’re very, very dirty.” A little grin played around his lips.
I took a few steps toward him, stopping when I was a couple feet away. “So, is that what you’ve been doing lately? Going over to the pink side?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound derogatory.”
“It didn’t. I kind of like it, actually. But are you? Coming over to the pink side, I mean?”
“I can’t answer that question right now.”
“Why not?”
He smirked at me, a sparkle in his eyes. “Because if I share one more thing, I’m going to explode and die.”
“I mean, you must be. Why else would you be making out with me at every opportunity?”
“Oh, I’m hardly making out at every opportunity.”
“Okay, that’s true. Half the time, you’re telling me that you can’t be with me, that you’re too terrible and I can’t possibly want you, yada yada yada.”
He laughed at that. “Do you see what a pain you are?”
“Me! You’re the one pulling me to you with one hand while pushing me away with the other.”
“Oh man,” he said, propelling himself forward, out of the studio and down the hall.
“What are you doing?”
“Running away from you, before you make me talk about my feelings again.”
“How far are you running?”
“The living room.”
I grinned at that and trailed after him.
That afternoon, Brian and I hung out with Christopher and Kieran. We played Madden for a while, until all of us got sick of Christopher constantly beating the crap out of us. Then we switched to watching movies. We’d decided to do a Ridley Scott triple-header, but were only halfway through Blade Runner when Detective Sanchez called and asked to meet with me.
He volunteered to come to the apartment, and arrived twenty minutes later with a manila envelope and a grim expression. But then, he always had a grim expression. Ramon Sanchez was about sixty-two, paunchy, and fighting baldness with an epic comb-over. It started somewhere around his left earlobe, and looped all the way around his head. When that meager strip of hair wasn’t slicked down, it must be a foot long.
He accepted the offer of coffee as we all settled in around the dining room table, and Christopher played host, bringing the pot to the table with a plate of cookies. The sight of those cookies suddenly made me think of Trevor. I would have liked to visit him at work and apologize. I felt bad that he’d gotten caught in the crossfire between my ex and me, and it had obviously upset him. But then, Cole worked at the same restaurant, and if he caught me checking up on Trevor he’d probably blow a gasket. He was obviously into that guy, if that really had been his first attempt at dating since we broke up.
The police detective horked down several cookies and drained his coffee cup before turning his attention to the topic at hand. “As you know,” he said, “I asked two officers to review the footage from the surveillance cameras in your apartment building, Mr. Jacobs. There were s
ix cameras in operation at the time your home was vandalized. It appears the suspect knew the locations of five of these cameras, and was very careful to keep his face concealed when he passed them. This suggests he’s been in your building before, and probably did some reconnaissance before staging the break-in.”
“Wow,” I murmured, “that’s super comforting.”
Christopher was seated right beside me and picked up my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Sanchez frowned ever-so-slightly at our joined hands, but kept his tone professional as he said, “The sixth camera, though, that the suspect seemed unaware of, captured some good images. It’s in the lobby, concealed from view behind a grate. It was part of an enhanced security system that the property manager installed about four years ago, when there were a couple burglaries in the building.”
He picked up the envelope and pulled out a thin stack of photos, sliding them over to me as he continued, “This is our suspect, another camera had a shot of him from behind, picking the lock to your apartment. Take a good look at these pictures, Mr. Jacobs, and let me know if you recognize this man.”
The photos were black and white, fairly clear, and in chronological order. The first few showed a man with a goatee and mustache, dressed in dark clothes and a baseball cap, walking across the hotel lobby, toward the elevators. His profile didn’t look familiar. The second half of the pictures had a time stamp eleven minutes later than the first, and showed the same person headed toward the main door. Two of the pictures were flagged with yellow Post-It notes. When I reached the first of the two, I paused.
The man had happened to turn his head toward the camera at just the right moment, and it had captured a clear shot of his face. “There’s a close-up of that same image, it’s next in the stack,” Sanchez told me, and I flipped to the next photo, taking a long look at the face of my stalker. There was something familiar about it, but only very slightly. I couldn’t place when or where I’d ever seen this person before.
I studied him carefully. He wasn’t even close to what I’d expected. This was the face of a regular-looking guy in maybe his mid-thirties. If anything, he looked kind of…pleasant. He looked like the type of man you expected to see coaching Little League. No one would ever look at him and think he was capable of something like this, not in a million years, and that made him really frightening.