by Alexa Land
“Yeah.” I figured what he was like in bed was pretty much total TMI so I shut up about that.
“Is it okay with you that he treats you like a booty call?”
“I guess so, since I keep agreeing to it.”
“Do you wish it was more, though?”
I had to stop and think about that. “I guess I do, but that’s not an option. There are some things I really like about Jason. It’d be nice to spend time with him and get to know him. But he’s only in town for a few more weeks, and I’m sure he’ll forget all about me when he’s back in New York.”
“I doubt that. You’re pretty unforgettable,” Jessie said with a little smile.
“It’s nice of you to say that. But to a man like Jason, I’m just the flavor of the moment, and he has no real interest in me beyond sex. That’s why he only calls me in the middle of the night. It’s not like he’s dying to spend time with me and get to know me outside the bedroom.”
“Then he’s kind of stupid.”
Nana sat up with a loud snort and looked around. When she noticed me, she said, “Hi Johnnie! When’d you get home?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
She took the puppy’s leash and he jumped up and shook himself happily. “I’m going to bed. I have an excuse, I’m old. Not like you two. I don’t know what you’re doing home on a Friday night.”
We said goodnight, and after she shuffled out of the room in her big boots, Jessie said, “She’s not wrong.”
“Why are you spending Friday night with my grandmother? You should be out having fun,” I told him.
“Nana’s awesome. I really like hanging out with her. Although granted, she’s more fun when she’s awake.”
“Still.”
Jessie sighed and smoothed the cuff of his white shorts. He was wearing them with a white t-shirt that had a name tag printed on it. The tag said: Hello my name is: Ben Dover. “All my friends have gotten paired up recently. And I mean all of them. Four of my best friends are in a band together and they formed two couples, one gay, one straight. I couldn’t believe it! What happens if they break up? The band’s really good too, but it’s going down if either of the couples has a falling out. Anyway, long story short, I’m super sick of being a third, or really fifth, wheel. I’d much rather hang out here than go out and watch my friends making kissy faces at each other and get reminded over and over of my raging case of perpetual singledom.”
My phone beeped and I pulled it out of my pocket and read the text. “Well, damn,” I murmured. “Jason just sent me a message and it wasn’t a booty call. Yet.”
“Okay, I’m not going to make this about me and whine because you’re getting texts from totally hot celebrities while I’m complaining about being single.”
“Sorry.”
Jessie said, “It’s not your fault that I’m so pathetic. What does the text say?”
“He wrote: I’m at this dull fundraiser with a complete airhead and all I can think about is you, Gianni. You felt so incredibly good in my arms last night.”
“Holy shit. You’re right, that’s not a booty call. That’s an I-miss-you text.”
“Kind of. It’ll be followed up with a booty call, though.”
Jessie grinned at that. “I can hardly blame him for wanting your booty. It’s mighty fine.”
I chuckled and said, “My booty thanks you for the compliment.”
“Aren’t you going to text him back?” he asked when I put my phone on the coffee table.
“And say what?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Flirting is like a foreign language to me. But you should say something.”
“All I can think of is, sorry you’re at the gala with that dumb blonde when you could be there with me,” I muttered.
“Yes!”
“No, that sounds catty.”
Jessie thought about it for a few moments as he chewed on his bottom lip. Then he said, “How about if you initiate tonight’s booty call? That puts you two on a more even playing field.”
“That’s not me, though. I have a pathological fear of rejection, so I always wait for the other person to make the move.”
He grinned a little. “Pathological, ay?”
“I’m exaggerating, but I really do hate putting myself out there.”
“Well shit, say something, though! That was a good text, you don’t want him to think you’re just blowing it off.”
“You’re right.” I picked up my phone and typed for a moment, then said, “How’s this? ‘Saw you on the news. You looked sexy in your tux.’ I should probably say more, but I got nothing.”
Jessie frowned at me. “Not exactly going on a Hallmark card, is it?”
“No, and that’s good. I don’t want it to be all flowery. I’m sending this.”
“Might as well. It’s something, at least. Plus it’s all about him and I’ll bet celebrities love that shit.”
I hit send, then got up and stretched my arms over my head. “I’m going to go upstairs and read a bit before bed. This has felt like a long week.”
“That’s because you’ve traded sleeping for sneaking out and having sex with celebrities. I would totally make the same trade-off if I could, by the way. But don’t go yet. We only watched the first two Exorcist movies last weekend, we could watch the other two tonight. Oh, and the prequel if you’re up for it. Please?”
I turned to look at Jessie. He reminded me of a little kid with his hopeful expression. “My grandmother didn’t take in one puppy,” I told him, “she took in two. Stop it with the big, soulful eyes already. I’ll stay, even though I doubt I’ll be up for three movies.”
“Plus, Jason Jax might call for your booty at some point. I think that’s a weird expression, by the way, ‘booty call’. But whatever.” He got up and said, “I’m going to make some popcorn, see if you can find some blankets. We’re going to need them to build a safety fort if we’re going to watch this scary shit.”
My phone dinged as I went off to find some blankets. Jason had written: I’m kind of embarrassed you saw that. My life is such a sham. I should be here with you, not with that girl. You’re not only so much more beautiful, you’re a thousand times more interesting.
I wrote back: Thanks. Out of curiosity, are you drunk?
I was surprised when Jason texted: LOL! He didn’t strike me as a ‘LOL’ kind of guy. He followed that up with: Nope, just bored and missing you. Will you please come over tonight? I need to be in you so damn bad. I almost said ‘so bad I can taste it’ and actually that applies, too. :)
A LOL and a smiley face. Go figure. I grabbed some blankets from the closet of a spare bedroom on the ground floor, and after I brought them to the family room and piled them on the couch, I wrote: Sure. Text me when you get back to the hotel. So, yeah. It swung around to a booty call. Not a surprise.
By the time Jessie got back with the snacks, I was huddled under three blankets. “Let’s do this thing,” I said, untangling my hand from the covers so I could point the remote at the TV, where I’d already cued up Exorcist Three.
When Jessie was tucked in beside me, he said, “I wonder how far we’ll get before tonight’s booty call.”
“It already happened.” I retrieved my phone and handed it to him, and he flipped through the texts before saying, “Aw, he misses you.”
“He misses fucking me. There’s a difference.”
“Still.”
“I’m not complaining. I’m just not romanticizing it, either. I totally get what I am to him.”
I started the movie, and Jessie slid close. The scarier it became, the closer he got. Eventually, both his arms were wrapped tightly around me. We made it to the scene where a big figure in white went after a nurse, and both of us screamed. “I’m out,” Jessie announced.
“Me too.” I turned off the TV, then reached for the light on the end table and turned it on.
Nico stuck his head in the family room just then, and we both screamed again. “Wow,” he said. “No mo
re scary movies for you two.”
“Shit, no kidding. I think I’m traumatized,” I said.
“You and me both,” Jessie said. “Why did we decide to do this in the first place?”
“It was your idea.”
“Oh, right. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do at slumber parties,” he said. “I don’t actually like scary movies, but I thought they’d be fun in this context.”
“They were,” I told him, “until that one almost made me pee myself.” I turned to Nico, who was leaning against the doorframe looking more than a little exhausted, and asked, “Where have you been?”
“I went to the library, and when it closed I moved to a coffee shop and kept studying. This material is so dry. It’s taking me forever to get through my assignments.” Nico took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
“Dude,” Jessie said, “you freaking hate this shit. Stop torturing yourself. Gianni, back me up here. Don’t you think Nico should drop out of law school and do something different?”
“That’s not my call, it’s his,” I told him.
“I know, but still.”
Nico put his glasses back on and said, “I’m going to bed. You should switch to Frozen or something. No more creature features. What were you watching, anyway?”
“Exorcist Three,” I told him. “We got through the first two fine, but it was a slow build. All of a sudden, the third one just freaked us the hell out.”
My cousin chuckled as he pushed himself off the doorframe. “You two were clearly separated at birth,” he said. “It’s nice that you found each other.”
Jessie flashed me a huge smile as Nico left the room. “He’s right. Can I be an honorary Dombruso?”
“Sure. We’ll have to rename you, though. ‘Jessie’ isn’t very Sicilian.”
“Dude, one of your brothers is named Mikey.”
“Yeah, but it’s short for Michelangelo.”
“Really?”
“No.”
He chuckled at that. “So, thumbs up to Jessie, then.”
“Except for that misplaced ‘i’. Why isn’t it j-e-s-s-e exactly?”
“I liked it better spelled this way.”
“You liked it better? Not your parents?” I asked.
“Well, yeah. My dad’s a preacher, like I said, so he gave me a name from the Bible. I opted to call myself something cuter. Fun fact: there actually is a Jesse in the Bible, but I didn’t know that until after I renamed myself.”
“What’s your real name?”
“I’m not telling.”
“That good, huh?”
“Yup.”
I asked, “If I guess it, will you tell me?”
“You won’t.”
“Come on,” I cajoled. “I want to know what it is.”
“Not happening.” My phone dinged just then and he jumped up and said, “Ha, saved by the bell! Have fun on your booty call, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I glanced at Jason’s text, telling me he was back at the hotel, then returned the phone to my pocket. Jessie had started to leave the room, so I called after him, “Goodnight, Jedidiah.”
“So close, and yet so far,” he called. I grinned at that as I headed for the garage.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Yosh texted me and bumped our workout to later in the day because he had an early tattoo appointment. I decided to get my trip to Marin over with, so I messaged Zan and let him know I’d be there in an hour or so. He didn’t bother to reply. I texted my brother next, but Vincent had made plans with his husband and son, so I was on my own.
After stopping off at the grocery store and buying the twenty-three items I’d committed to memory (plus one particularly good wildcard item to rattle Zan’s cage) I made the drive north. It was a beautiful day, the vivid blue sky a great contrast to the orange Golden Gate Bridge. I opened the sunroof and enjoyed the fresh air as I crossed the bay.
I let myself in through the two sets of electric gates, giving the security cameras a snappy salute, and wound slowly along the gravel private drive. It wasn’t in great condition, and I made a mental note to ask Vincent what it would take to fix it up a bit. Finally, I arrived at the house and parked near the side door, same as always. Once I’d loaded myself up with all of the grocery sacks, I used my key to let myself in and called, “It’s your friendly neighborhood deliveryman!” There was no reply, but I hadn’t actually been expecting one.
After depositing the canvas bags in the kitchen, I noticed Zan’s phone was plugged in on the counter. It was fully charged, so I unplugged it and went to bring it to him. Zan was in his den, of course, working out on his elliptical machine like a man possessed. He was barefoot, like always, and dressed in a tight tank top and ratty gym shorts, his elbow-length hair tied back in a messy ponytail. He was listening to an iPod, and the exercise machine was angled so he was looking out the windows, his eyes focused on some point in the distance. He had absolutely no idea I was there.
I took a moment to watch him. I’d never seen him in anything other than 501s and the long-sleeved button-down shirts he wore every day of his life. It turned out that was a shame, because the tight, muscular body usually concealed under those baggy clothes was smoking hot. The why behind that was no mystery, given how hard he was working out. His breathing was ragged, his skin glistening with sweat, but he just kept pushing himself.
I decided I should probably leave him alone and went to set his phone on an end table before returning to the kitchen. That movement must have caught his eye, because he turned his head toward me, his lips parting. In the next instant, his coordination totally failed him, and he tumbled off the machine with a little yell.
“Oh shit,” I exclaimed as I rushed to his side. “Are you alright?”
He pulled the earbuds out and let them dangle around his neck. He’d been listening to Zeppelin, I could just barely make it out. “Bloody hell Gianni, what are you doing here?”
“The same thing I do every Saturday. Are you okay?” I held a hand out to him. He hesitated before taking hold of it and letting me pull him to his feet.
“You’re never this early.” Several strands of hair had escaped the ponytail, and he pushed them away from his sweaty face. He seemed really rattled.
“I know, my morning workout got pushed back. I texted you to let you know I was on my way.”
“I didn’t check my phone. You’re always here around midday.” He seemed surprisingly vulnerable for some reason as he stepped back from me, then looked down at himself and raised a hand to touch the sweat-soaked tank top.
Seeing him so shaken made me want to reach for him and soothe him, but I knew how that’d go over. I tucked my hands in my pockets and said, “I’m really sorry. I just assumed you got my message. I’m going to go put away the groceries, and then I’ll be out in the yard.” When I left the den, I closed the door behind me.
As I unpacked the shopping bags, I could hear him go through to the bathroom. A minute later, the shower started running. I finished my tasks quickly and went outside to give him some privacy.
I retrieved a full gas can from my trunk, which I used to fill the tank on the riding lawnmower. I then donned my baseball cap and sunglasses, wheeled the mower onto the driveway and climbed aboard. It started up easily and I drove it out past the landscaping surrounding the house. When I reached the grassy field, I engaged the cutting blades and went to work.
There was something almost Zen-like about this task, and I actually enjoyed it. I drove back and forth in tidy rows, the machine mulching what I cut down and dispersing it behind me. I was able to go for a couple hours, working farther and farther out from the house before the gas gauge told me I needed to wrap it up.
When the mower was back in the garage, I took a few minutes to wipe it down before splashing water on my face and cleaning myself up a little at the utility sink. I planned to make a little progress with the tree trimming next, but first I really needed a bathroom break and a glass of water,
so I headed into the house. Not surprisingly, the door to the den was closed. After I used the facilities I hesitated, then knocked on Zan’s door.
It took him a minute to answer, and when he did, he just stared at me. He’d washed his hair, and it was still slightly damp and combed out neatly, a few strands of grey standing out against the dark brown. He was back in his uniform, Levis and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled back. Zan was nothing if not consistent.
“Sorry to bother you,” I said. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You took a pretty nasty tumble earlier.”
“I’m fine.”
“What about your shoulder? I noticed it came down right on the machine.”
“It’s sore, but it doesn’t matter.”
“You should put some ice on it. That’ll keep it from swelling.”
He knit his brows at me. “Did you learn that in your three semesters of nursing school?”
“No, I learned that from my grandmother. How bad is it?”
“Like I said, it’s sore.”
“On a scale of one to ten, where one’s no pain at all and ten’s having your balls chewed off by a dozen piranhas, how bad does it hurt?”
Despite himself, his lips quirked up at the corners and a little spark of amusement lit his eyes. “Hell, I don’t know. A four? What’s that on your scale, a couple piranhas coming in for a nibble?”
“Yes. Can I take a look at your shoulder? I want to see if it’s bruised.”
He sighed and said, “Fine,” before turning his back to me and unbuttoning his shirt.
When Zan pulled the right side down, I carefully swept his thick hair over his left shoulder and said, “Shit. Your shoulder blade is starting to bruise up, it looks like it’s going to be pretty bad. Why don’t you go sit on the couch while I bring you an icepack?”
“There’s no need for all this fuss,” he said. “So it’s bruised. I’ll live.”
“But why not reduce the pain and shorten your recovery time?” He looked at me over his shoulder and started to open his mouth to protest, but I said, “Come on. Let me assuage my guilt over startling you and making you hurt yourself by at least minimizing the damage.”