by J. K. Hogan
Exhaustion of the previous week settled in, and Nic didn’t bother to try and fight it. As his eyelids drooped, he thought of Justice with his crooked grin and freckles. Damn, the kid was cute, he thought just before sleep finally took him under.
Next thing he knew, Nic was being jostled awake by an overzealous flight attendant, and told he needed to put his seat back up. He thought again of Justice and briefly scanned the rows in front of him for that mop of brown curls.
He really couldn’t see much above the seats, so he had the fleeting thought that maybe he’d track the kid down after they disembarked. Maybe Justice was cute enough to make Nic break his hard and fast rule of no pick-ups and give him his number. Maybe.
Nic dozed again with a smile on his face. It felt good. He hadn’t smiled much lately.
When he woke again, the plane was nearly empty. He obviously hadn’t slept well in ages for him to be able to stay unconscious through the landing. Nic stood and stretched, his bones cracking like an old man’s. Pulling his duffle out of the overhead compartment, he walked down the aisle and up the jet bridge. When he made it out into the terminal, the crowd of passengers had already dissipated.
“So much for hooking up,” he muttered. It was probably just as well. Nic was a serial monogamist, and that didn’t often go over well with gay men. He hated that they were so often typecast as promiscuous club rats who had no interest in monogamy.
Of course, there were plenty of them out there who perpetuated the stereotype —Nic’s ex included. But thinking about Colin in his current state of mind was just a bad idea.
* * * *
Nic was waiting outside at Sea-Tac for his ride when he noticed Justice hop into a cab. By the time he had made the decision to call out to him, the Prius was already pulling away from the curb.
At the same time, Nic’s best friend ground her Subaru Outback to a stop in front of him. He opened the hatchback and tossed his duffel inside, before climbing into the passenger seat.
Samara Alvárez lowered her oversized Prada sunglasses and smirked at him over the rims. “You look like microwaved shit.”
“Well thanks, Sam. I love you too.”
Sam’s brightly painted red lips softened into an indulgent smile. “I know you do. And one of the reasons you do is that I tell you the truth no matter what.”
He nodded when she paused.
“And the truth is, you look like shit.”
Nic sighed and thumped his head on the headrest, wincing when he hit the beaded seat cover. “It was a rough week.”
She pushed her sunglasses back up on her nose, then grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I know, baby. Let’s get you home so you can get some rest.”
“Perfect,” Nic sighed, closing his eyes.
Samara had been his best friend since grade school. She’d known he was gay long before he ever did. People liked to pigeonhole her too, call her a hag —damn, he hated that term —when really, she was family. Pretty much the only family he had left. And she was certainly the only friend who’d stuck around in the aftermath of Colin.
She had black hair that she usually kept pulled up in a ponytail that complimented her micro-bangs. Always wearing red lipstick and heavy eyeliner, she fully embraced the pin-up style she loved. While not what anyone would call fat, she was a curvy girl, and she thought the rockabilly dresses and daring makeup complimented her figure and personality. She wasn’t wrong.
Most of all though, she’d always been there for him, and he loved her for it. But he was just too tired and wrung out from the funeral and the travel to be able to make conversation.
They rode in silence until she turned into the Union Marina parking lot. Nic felt tension he didn’t know he was carrying drain from his body at the sight of home.
“Home, sweet home.”
“Sure you don’t want to stay at my place tonight?” Sam asked, tugging at her lip with her teeth, not even leaving a chip in her long-wear lipstick. “I don’t know if I should leave you alone on that old tub you call home.”
“That tub is an eighty-two foot flybridge motor-yacht, thank you very goddamn much.”
She raised her hands in a placating gesture, even though it was just an example of their normal good natured bickering. “Sorry, sorry. I take it back. Wouldn’t want to insult your precious.”
“You damn well better not insult her.”
With an exaggerated eye roll, she smacked him upside the head. “I’m serious, now. Are you sure you’ll be all right by yourself?”
Nic sighed, more tired than ever. “I’m positive. I’m just going straight to my cabin to crash.”
Sam looked skeptical, but she knew better to argue when he’d dug his heels in. “Do you have any charters tomorrow?”
“Not a one. I cleared my schedule for a few days after the trip, just to give myself some time to…recover.”
“Perfect. Saturday night, we’re going out.”
“No, Sam.”
“Yes, Sam,” she parroted. “We’re going to Neighbors and I won’t take no. Between your dad and Colin —”
“Sam,” he said in a warning tone. It wouldn’t do any good. She was like a dog with a bone when she thought she knew what was best for him.
“You need to loosen up, have some fun. Maybe get laid a time or two.”
“You know how I feel about picking up guys in bars.”
“Yeah, but how does your dick feel about it?”
“Sam!” Nic could feel himself blushing. He wasn’t a prude for fuck’s sake, but Sam had a talent for embarrassing the shit out of him. “Fine. God. If I agree to go, will you shut up?”
“Of course, my love. Neighbors, Saturday. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“Whatever, you fucking harpy.”
“You love me.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Night, Nic.”
“Night, Sam.”
Chapter Three
By the time Justice arrived in the grid-style neighborhood north of the city, he was bushed. After practically making a pass at a stranger, the turbulence had sent him back to the bathroom to lose his breakfast. He sat on the toilet lid, where he was pretty sure he’d lost consciousness a few times, until the flight attendant rapped on the door and insisted he go back to his seat.
He’d dragged his sorry ass back up the aisle, but still checked out Hot Nic on the way, though he was asleep, and collapsed in his seat. As soon as they were given the all clear to de-plane, he hightailed it out of there before he embarrassed himself further.
And yet, as the taxi had taken him through this beautiful, unfamiliar city —the Space Needle was way smaller than he thought —he couldn’t get the handsome stranger out of his mind.
Nic’s kind face had instantly put him at ease, though Justice sensed a sadness surrounding him. He’d wanted so badly to brush that shaggy blond hair out of those crystal blue eyes and kiss him.
That thought alone was enough to shock Justice out of his reverie. He wasn’t openly gay. He couldn’t be. Not after the heartbreak he’d received from his family. He hadn’t intentionally gone back in the closet, but he knew it was the safest place for him to be.
That was the reason being so interested in a passing stranger was so out of character…and such a bad idea. Of course, Justice longed for a loving relationship, just as much as the next guy. But it was a pipe dream; something he’d never have.
“Here ya go, buddy. That’ll be forty bucks.”
“Great, thanks,” Justice said, and paid the man. Overall, it wasn’t a bad price for a ride all the way from the airport to the suburb north of Seattle. Back home, the same distance probably would have cost him at least a hundred.
He stepped out of the cab, grabbed his bags from the trunk, and, as the cab peeled off, turned to look at where he’d be staying for the next couple of weeks. Because Justice and Lara, the only other friend from college who’d been able to attend the out of town wedding, had traveled the farthest to get there and were in the we
dding party, Rory had rented them a tiny little house in his neighborhood. Luckily it was within walking distance of Rory’s old townhouse, and the new house the happy couple would be moving into after the wedding.
It was a cute little bungalow-style house painted bright yellow. He loved it instantly. He found the key in the mail slot where it was supposed to be, so he assumed that Lara hadn’t arrived yet.
Good. He’d be able to straighten the place up and catch a nice quiet nap before dealing with Rory’s boisterous personality. He was completely charmed by the tiny, eclectically decorated, one bedroom cottage. They’d already agreed that Justice would take the bedroom because of his issues and Lara had willingly offered to take the pullout sofa in the living room.
Upon entering, Justice set about making the cottage livable for him and his neuroses. He went straight to the bedroom, threw his suitcase on the bed and began to unpack. He meticulously placed all of his casual clothes, socks, and underwear in the dresser drawers, then hung up his wedding suit and his nicer clothes in the closet and lined up his shoes on the floor.
Then, he arranged his toiletries just so in the bathroom so that he could go about his morning rituals with no snafus. Last, he found outlets for all his various electronics —Kindle, laptop, iPad, iPhone, and plugged in all of the chargers so that they would be ready for use.
Justice had no concept of packing light. One of the ways he kept a handle on his anxiety and obsessive-compulsive tendencies was to make sure he was prepared for any possible situation. It didn’t always work, but he did what he could.
After stowing his suitcase under the comfy looking queen-sized bed, Justice went into the kitchen to make things right. He emptied the cabinets —there wasn’t too much in them, since it was a rental house. Then he put the glasses where they belonged, moved the dishes to the right cabinet, and set the appliances in the appropriate places.
The fridge was next. The fully stocked refrigerator was part of the rental agreement, so all Justice had to do was rearrange the contents in a way that made sense, putting the things he knew he wouldn’t use in the very back, out of sight.
All that was left was to stack the magazines on the coffee table the way they should be, then he could finally relax. Spinning around, he surveyed his handiwork. When he could breathe easy, he knew everything was perfect.
Justice went back into the bedroom and put on the window fan to cool the room down. That was the one downside of the little house. He tended to like it frigid inside his apartment at home, but there seemed to be no air conditioning to speak of in Seattle. He’d been told that was because it was rarely needed. Unfortunately, this week, it was needed.
Even though he had everything arranged perfectly according to his standards, his anxiety was still pinging. Not only that, but he was exhausted, both from jet lag and his medication. He was still fighting off the overall queasiness that came with flying, and was certainly par for the course after multiple panic attacks.
It was kind of like a hangover, only without the pleasant release of getting shit-faced drunk the night before. He always called it his ‘flight hangover’ although he often got them after road trips as well.
He turned down the bed and sank into the glorious pillow-top mattress. The linens smelled clean and fresh, and that made him happy. He was just about to slip into blissful unconsciousness, lulled by the sound of the fan and the birds chirping outside, when his phone rang.
“Goddamn it all to hell,” he growled before answering the call. “Yeah?”
“Jus? Is that you? You sound like shit.”
“Christ, thanks, Rory. You know how I get after flying.”
Rory’s voice sounded contrite when he answered. “Yeah man, I know. I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this, but do you want to come over to the house and hang for a bit? You could meet my future wife and my future ex-roommate.”
Justice sighed, feeling guilty about the fact that his friend didn’t believe he’d say yes, but feeling even more nauseated at the thought of being around more new people so soon after flying.
“I’d love to, Ror, you know that. But I’ve got to crash for a bit.”
“Okay,” Rory said, sounding a little disappointed, and Justice felt even worse. “Well, how about coming over for dinner tonight?”
“Sure, I think I can handle that.” He hoped. “I should probably stick around until Lara gets here, anyway. Do you know when she’s due in?”
“I think her flight is supposed to land sometime mid-afternoon. She’s renting a car, so you don’t have to do anything but hang out and let her in.”
“Sounds good, man. And listen, you know I have a lot of trouble travelling, but I really am happy to be here for you, and incredibly honored that you wanted me to stand up for you.”
Justice could practically hear the blush in Rory’s voice after he cleared his throat suspiciously.
“I’m really glad you took me up on the offer. I know it’s a long way for you.”
“Well, like I always say, I love getting to see new places, I just hate the process of getting there. But I’m here now and I can’t wait to see you.”
“Me too, bro. So, we’ll see you at the house around seven?”
“Sure thing.”
“Great! I’ll text you the address. Get some rest.”
“Will do. Later.”
After he ended the call, Justice sighed as he snuggled back under the covers. Though the panic and exhaustion was starting to slide away, he could feel the edges of a migraine creeping along his temples, the all too common aftermath of his travel anxiety.
Before he drifted off, an image of Nic drifted across his mind. He’d been half-hard all morning, ever since he’d fallen into the guy’s lap, except maybe when he was puking. As he thought of the gorgeous, ripped surfer guy with the ocean eyes, his cock gave a half-hearted twitch. Good effort, he thought, but he was too exhausted even to beat one off.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate a nice fantasy as he was falling asleep. One that involved melted chocolate and handcuffs. There was a smile on his face as he finally sank into sleep.
* * * *
Justice awoke to a sudden dip in the mattress. He rolled over and rubbed his eyes before glaring at Lara’s perky self, bouncing on the bed and grinning.
“You people are determined not to let me get over my jet lag, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean, you people?” she said with mock affront.
“Well, lesbians, natch. What else?”
She cackled and smacked him with a pillow. “I’ve missed you, Jus. Bitchy personality and all.”
He pulled her into an awkward, one armed sideways hug, since he was still lying down. “I missed you too, girlie. How’s Sarah?”
“Sarah? Sarah? Sarah was two girlfriends ago.” She waved it off dismissively. “I’m with Kelly now.”
“Whatevs. I can’t keep up with the latest muff you’re diving in.”
“Gross!” she shouted, beating him harder with the pillow. “At least I’m getting some. At the rate you go, your dick might walk off and find a new home.”
“Low blow, Lara.”
“Yeah, yeah, well don’t talk about my sexual exploits and I won’t talk about yours, or lack thereof,” she said with a wink. “So are you ready to get your lazy ass out of bed and go over to Rory’s?”
“Look, I’m still not feeling well. I think I’m gonna skip it.”
“Rory told me you’d say that. He said I’m to force you by any means necessary. Besides, don’t you want to meet his douchebag roommate? He’s such an asshole.” Lara lived not too far away in Portland, so she’d visited a few times and met Rory’s friends.
“Well after that glowing endorsement, how could I say no? I’m just going to take a quick shower and make myself presentable.”
“Gonna take more than a quick one for that!”
“You’re such a bitch.”
“We all have our super powers,” she said with a shrug.
>
Chapter Four
Lara drove them to Rory’s small cottage in her rented Ford compact. Justice’s stomach was already flip-flopping at the thought of a room full of people. How the hell was he going to get through the next two weeks?
Justice knocked on the front door of the bungalow, similar to the rental house but painted a bright blue. The door quickly swung open to reveal an artificially tanned, meticulously groomed man with perfectly spiked black hair. While Justice had about an inch on him, the guy’s tailored black pinstripe suit covered exaggerated muscles that had to come from hours at the gym. Justice kind of hated him on sight. From the wary look and the poorly disguised sneer on the guy’s face, he guessed the feeling was mutual.
“Who are you?”
“Rich, you know damn well who I am,” Lara answered. “And this is Justice Crawford, the best man. Justice, this is Rich Langston. He’s Rory’s roommate, at least until the wedding night.”
“Nice to meet you,” Justice said, reaching out his hand to shake, and it was promptly ignored.
“Yeah. Rory’s out.”
“We’ll just wait inside,” Lara said, shouldering her way past Rich and grabbing Justice’s hand along the way to pull him inside.
She flopped down on the oversized red couch, and patted the cushion next to her, beckoning Justice to sit down. So he did. Rich sat in an armchair across from them and stared through narrowed eyes. Lara was right. He was an asshole —no ‘kind of’ about it.
He raised a brow and scowled at Justice as he looked him up and down. “You know you have to throw him a bachelor party, right?”
“I…what?” Rory hadn’t said anything about any bachelor party. Justice knew it was sort a traditional thing for the best man to do, but Rory had just said to get himself there, and he’d take care of the rest. Panic ensued. He could already feel the cold sweat and the bile rising.
“I said you have to throw him a bachelor party.”
“I heard you.” What the hell did straight people do for bachelor parties? “So…a strip club, then?”