by Cate Ashwood
He decided to wait until after dinner and then get Evan alone to talk to him. He felt a bit better, more like his old self. He was convinced he could approach this with the same sense of detachment he had always used before. So what if the kid had gotten under his skin a little? It wasn’t too late to distance himself from both Evan and the way he felt about him.
Bran walked into the kitchen. It was his turn to make dinner and he needed to concentrate on not poisoning the boys with his cooking. He searched the cupboards for inspiration, but in the end, sighed and reached for the box of spaghetti noodles. Who was he kidding? He only really knew how to make one thing. They’d had lasagna already, but with his options limited, he searched the remaining cupboards for a jar of tomato sauce.
He was dumping the crimson colored liquid into a pot when Evan walked in. Bran felt like the air had left the room and someone had turned the thermostat up about 40 degrees. So much for remaining cool and detached.
“Smells good already,” Evan said with a grin.
“Thanks. Just started, though. Nothing fancy, just canned sauce and pasta.”
“Comfort food sounds good to me. Want some help?”
“Definitely wouldn’t say no to help in the kitchen. I’m pretty useless when it comes to cooking.”
“You seem to be doing okay so far. You want me to make meatballs to go with it?”
Bran’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, that’d be great. I love meatballs. Mine always fall apart or burn, though.”
“There’s a couple of tricks I use. Here, I’ll show you,” he said, walking to the fridge to retrieve the ingredients he would need. Next, he grabbed a large bowl and the remaining ingredients from the cupboards and set them next to the cutting board that had already been laid out.
“First, you need to chop the herbs and garlic. Basil always works well with Italian food.” Evan reached into the greenery bag and pulled out a large sprig of the leafy herbs. He deftly removed several of the broad leaves from the stems and piled them up on the cutting board. Rolling them together, he ran his knife expertly through them, resulting in long, thin strips. Rocking the blade back and forth, he chopped them into smaller pieces before moving the pile to the side. Next he attacked the garlic, smashing the cloves with the side of the blade before removing the skins and mincing it finely.
“That smells amazing,” Bran commented.
“Yeah, a little seasoning goes a long way. You wanna add some of this to the sauce?”
“Sure, sounds good to me.”
Evan scooped some of each pile into his cupped palm, dumped it into the heating sauce, and stirred everything together.
He moved back to his cutting board and opened the package of ground beef. He dumped it into his mixing bowl and added the basil and garlic. Next he cracked an egg into the mixture and added breadcrumbs and parmesan cheese. “Helps keep them from falling apart,” he explained.
Bran nodded. He discovered that he loved to watch Evan cook. It wasn’t just because he knew now the meal would actually taste good, but in the kitchen Evan was confident, relaxed. The nervousness and uneasiness that had wrapped itself around him from the beginning seemed to disappear.
“You’re good at this.”
Evan just shrugged. “Lots of practice. It’s not that hard really. Cooking is a lot like science actually. I guess it’s always just made sense to me.”
He began tearing two slices of bread into tiny pieces and adding that to the bowl as well. Lastly he poured a bit of milk into the mix before rolling up his sleeves. With a determined look, he plunged both hands into the meat, mixing and mashing everything together. He began to roll chunks of the mixture into medium-sized meatballs and placed them on a clean plate. His hands moved quickly, expertly, and soon there was nothing left in the bowl.
He held his hands up, revealing the gooey mess covering his palms and fingers.
“Want a massage?” he asked with one eyebrow quirked up and a glint of something mischievous in his eye.
“No fuckin’ way!” Bran yelled as Evan began to chase him around the kitchen island, arms extended like a zombie.
Bran felt like a kid again, playing tag in the park. The surge of adrenaline as the person chasing you closed in offset by the wild shrieks of laughter as you ran for your life. Soon they were both tired, and the sauce was beginning to bubble.
“Alright, you win. Turn the tap on for me?” Evan walked over to the double sink and waited patiently for Bran’s help.
Bran sidled up next to him, wary that this was all a ruse to get him close enough to touch, but it seemed like Evan was done playing. He reached toward the tap with his right hand, twisting the knobs to the perfect temperature.
“Soap? Please?”
Bran reached around Evan with his left hand, bracketing him in against the sink. He bent forward slightly to reach the bottle, pouring a healthy amount of soap onto Evan’s hands. Just like that, the air hung thick with sexual tension. Bran was completely out of control, nuzzling against Evan’s neck, breathing him in.
The scent of Evan mixed with the smells of food dancing through the kitchen made the smaller man in his arms smell like home. Evan rubbed his hands together lazily under the water as he leaned back into Bran, bringing their bodies into full contact. He tilted his hips back, brushing his ass against Bran’s groin, and God help him if he could stop himself from angling his hips forward, dragging a low moan from Evan.
God, this kid was going to kill him. He wanted nothing more than to drag the clothes off him and lay him flat on the first horizontal surface he could find.
The sound of water boiling over shook him from his fantasy and he backed off. Evan was blushing, embarrassed by his wanton behavior.
“We should probably get these finished before there’s a gang of hangry boys whining in the dining room.”
“Hangry?”
“Yeah, you know. Pissed off and ornery because they’re too hungry to be anything else?”
Bran laughed, the mood lightened.
The rest of dinner prep went quickly with the two men working together effortlessly to sear the meatballs and boil the pasta. The smell of the spicy tomato sauce brought the other men wandering into the kitchen one by one. Soon, both conversation and wine were flowing around the bar as everyone dug into their dinner with gusto, praising Bran and Evan for their efforts.
After everyone had full bellies and the kitchen had been tidied, Riley, Ryan, and Cooper migrated into the den to play video games, while Kellan retired to the living room to watch a movie. Everyone was a little partied out from the two nights before and just wanted to relax and veg out.
“I’m gonna dip my feet in the hot tub. You guys wanna come?” Colt asked. Bran waited to hear Evan’s response.
“Sure, sounds nice.”
Bran nodded. “Lead the way.”
They shucked their pants and pulled the cover off the hot tub. Plumes of chlorine-scented steam swirled around them as they stood in their boxers. Although the days were warm, the nights tended to have a bit of bite to them. They sat on the smooth wooden deck, dipping their feet into the sunken tub. The hot water was a nice contrast to the cool evening air.
The boys were illuminated from beneath by the lights along the floor and above from the crescent moon that hung in the sky. The forest was pitch dark, the ambient sound muffled by the thick canopy of foliage. Bran felt like he was in a kind of sanctuary.
He remembered having the same feeling when he was about twelve years old. He had lived with his parents on a large property that had backed onto a forest in South Dakota. He and his cousins had cleared an area to build a fort in the trees. They used spare wood they’d found in the shed to construct walls and had woven branches through them, creating a camouflaged little hideaway.
Over time he had moved all his secrets and treasures into a box hidden underneath one of the chairs that he had stolen from the neighbors’ curb. Bran snuck away almost every day after school to hide away and draw or read comic books quie
tly by himself. Here, the world was quiet and peaceful, distant from the constant noise of a house populated by four brothers and two sisters.
It was a place just for him, and as the youngest of seven, very few things were his alone. He had used it as an escape for almost a year before his father finally discovered where he had been hiding himself away. He had torn it down the same day, telling Bran that having a playhouse was childish and only for girls.
Colt leaned back against the deck, tucked his hands under his head, and sighed, snapping Bran out of his trip back into his childhood.
“Haven’t seen a sky like this one since I was back in Texas. Didn’t realize how much I would miss it,” Colt said.
Bran and Evan lay back too, following suit to stare at the clusters of bright stars nestled in the blackness.
“Think you’ll ever go back?” Evan asked.
“Nah, don’t think so. Nothin’ for me there anymore. It’s time for me to find my own way, make my own decisions and figure out what I want outta life, ya know?”
“Yeah, I do. I feel the same way. Never going home again, not that I even have a home left to go to. I’m not really welcome there anymore, but even if I were, that place is toxic. The road I’m on is going to be a difficult one to follow, but I’ll be happier in the end,” said Evan.
Bran envied the younger men. Just starting out, they were bright-eyed and optimistic. Reality hadn’t dulled the sheen of possibility for them yet. He hoped that never changed, that they were able to accomplish what they wanted and that they found their way in the world.
More than that, he hoped some of that bright-eyed optimism would rub off on him, that he could feel that same excitement for starting over that he had once had. Maybe it was possible for him to hit the reset button on his life and become something greater than he was. Maybe he could become the kind of person who deserved to be happy with someone like Evan.
Chapter 15
EVAN’S toes were wrinkly and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. It had been a big day for him and he was exhausted. He pulled his feet from the warmth of the water, shivering a little as the cool air brushed against his wet skin.
He was unsure where he and Bran stood, but didn’t want to overstep any boundaries or make assumptions about what was allowed. This wasn’t a typical situation. He had lost his virginity less than twelve hours earlier to the man sitting in front of him. He wanted nothing more than for Bran to drag him back to his bedroom and devour him, slow and sweet, all over again, but he couldn’t. He had to hold it in, had to keep his feelings and desires in check. It wouldn’t do him any good to get attached to a man he knew would walk away from him when the camera stopped rolling.
Evan took his time drying off. “I think I’m going to head to bed or I’m going to fall asleep out here.” He paused, waiting for Bran to follow him in, or give him some indication he wanted to spend the night with him, but the man was quiet, giving him a simple “good night.”
Evan felt a bit dejected and headed to his bedroom to lick his wounds. He pushed open the bedroom door slowly, half-expecting naked sweaty men in the throes of passion, but instead he found the room deserted. There were no guarantees that he wouldn’t be woken up later by panting and the sounds of skin slapping against skin, but for now he could sleep in peace.
Evan pulled the folder Bran had given him on the first day out of his bag. Opening it up, he checked the schedule for the next day. They were shooting three scenes. The first was in the afternoon: a threesome scene with Kellan, Cooper, and Riley in the weight room. He was supposed to be shooting the second scene with Ryan later in the evening in the living room, and then Bran was scheduled to shoot after that with Colt in the shower.
After tucking the folder back into his bag, he quickly completed his evening routine, brushing his teeth and slipping out of the rest of his clothes to nestle under the covers. He tried to even his breathing and relax. As tired as his body was, his mind was consumed with thoughts of the day and what tomorrow would hold.
He wondered if he would feel the same way about sex with Ryan as he had about sex with Bran. He doubted it. He was even more nervous about being with Ryan. He didn’t know the guy that well, didn’t have the same sense of trust and understanding as with Bran. What if he couldn’t go through with it? Would Bran be upset? The idea of disappointing Bran was almost scarier than the thought of going through with it.
He stared at the ceiling, watching the patterns of light from outside change as the leaves moved in the wind. This was the first night he had slept in his own bed at the house. It felt too big. Even when he had lived at home in the run-down, soulless house he hadn’t felt this alone.
He stretched his legs out, moving them beneath the covers, trying to create enough friction to warm the sheets. It didn’t work. Willing sleep to come, he curled into a ball, hugged his knees to his chest, and closed his eyes. Finally, it overtook him and he fell into deep oblivion.
THE next morning, Evan woke up late to an empty room and immediately felt his guts twisting. He felt as if he’d had lead for dinner the night before. His stomach was heavy with anxiety. He wished his scene was first, at least then he could get it over with. If he had to wait the whole day feeling like this, it was likely going to kill him.
He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to dispel the heaviness before he made his way into the kitchen for breakfast. There, he found Colt finishing his piece of toast and Ryan scraping some very dry scrambled eggs onto a plate.
Colt got up from the counter and washed his plate before tucking it away in the cupboard.
“I got a call from my friend in Eugene,” Colt told Evan. “He’s set everything up for us. I’ll call the landlord later today and iron out all the details, but it sounds like the place will be ready for us when we’re done filming.”
“That’s awesome,” Evan said, but he didn’t mean the words. If he had to have a roommate, Colt would definitely be his second choice. He was reluctant to think about leaving Bran, and Colt finalizing the details of their house together was making it seem more real.
“Yeah, it’s gonna be great,” Colt said as he left the kitchen.
Ryan watched Colt leave, then turned back to Evan. “Do you want some eggs?” he asked.
“No, thanks. I’m not very hungry this morning.”
The surfer turned back to the pan, emptying the last of the eggs into a lumpy pile in the center. He then upended the ketchup bottle and squeezed half of it onto the plate. The eggs became an unnaturally orange congealed mass.
“And now I’m not sure that I’ll ever be hungry again,” Evan teased. “That looks disgusting.”
“Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. My grandma taught me how to make eggs.”
“Did your grandma have dementia?”
Ryan laughed as he took the first big bite. “Asshole. My grandma is a classy lady. Don’t be talkin’ shit about her.” He threw a balled up napkin at Evan, which hit him in the head.
“You ready for later? You and me, baby.”
Evan tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. The joking had given him a momentary reprieve from the knot that gripped his insides. Now, the knot was back, and tightening more and more by the minute. He tried to put on a brave face, to seem unfazed and as easygoing as the other guys.
“Yep. Should be fun.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Of course it’ll be fun. A lot of hot, sweaty fun. The best job in the world, yeah? Getting paid to fuck?”
“Yeah.” Evan was surprised by the squeaky noise that had come out of his mouth. He wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding his reticence, but if Ryan noticed, he didn’t say anything. He finished up eating and rinsed his plate before loading it into the dishwasher.
SINCE none of the shoots started until after lunch, most of the guys were heading out to swim for a few hours. Ryan had promised to give everyone surf lessons and a couple of the guys had bought used boards in town the day before. Evan wanted to go, but wa
s hesitant. He’d never been swimming before. There were no lakes or anything near where he lived, and his mother hadn’t been the type to drive him to swimming lessons. He felt drawn to the water, but at the same time it scared the shit out of him.
He didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of the other guys. Who got to eighteen without learning to swim? But he thought he could probably just go and wade around, maybe splash in the shallows for a while.
At ten, most of the guys streamed out the back door of the house, headed toward the ocean, shirtless and carrying beach towels. It was like an episode of gay Baywatch. The sun was already warming the sand and the air had that earthy, salt-crusted smell that made everything seem fresh and clean. Despite the trepidation Evan felt for his scene later and his inability to swim, he was not one to miss out on an opportunity.
It didn’t take long for them to reach the water’s edge, where a couple of them laid out their towels and sat in the sun. Kellan and Ryan were the first to hit the water, running into the waves and creating big splashes as they moved.
“Fuck the water’s cold!” shouted Kellan.
“You just want an excuse for that tiny dick you’re hiding in your shorts!” Riley shouted back.
“Tiny dick doesn’t explain why you’re walking funny this morning, Riley,” teased Ryan.
Evan smiled, already feeling more relaxed. If he had learned anything on this trip so far, it was not to let anxiety and inexperience get in the way of doing what you want. It turned out that he was a lot more capable than he thought he was.
He decided to test the theory out now, pulling off his T-shirt and walking slowly toward the water. He didn’t have to go in far; waist height would be enough to experience it, he figured.
It turned out Kellan was telling the truth; the water was fucking cold. Evan pressed on though, feeling the soft silt squish between his toes. Ryan had already swum out farther than anyone and pulled himself up onto his surfboard, then coasted easily back to shore. Kellan wasn’t too far behind him, using long easy strokes to propel him through the water. It didn’t look that difficult. Maybe later on Evan could give it a try.