by Sotia Lazu
Brad crossed the room, and stopped right behind him. “I knew you’d be here.”
“Fuck.” Colin jumped around, tightening the towel around his waist. His foot slipped, and he clutched at Brad’s shoulder to find his balance. “Are you stalking me now?”
Was that what it seemed like? Brad panicked for the split second it took him to notice the smile lingering at the corners of Colin’s lips. “I had to make sure you didn’t flee the country in terror,” he replied in as flat a tone as he could manage.
“No terror.” Colin closed the door of his locker, leaned against it, and crossed his arms over his chest. He smelled faintly of alcohol. He’d been drinking. And hadn’t shaved. “Just work. Lots of work.”
Brad didn’t steal a glance at Colin’s pecs flexing. Nope. “So much work you couldn’t return one of my calls? Why don’t you just admit it? You had fun with Becca, but aren’t interested in more. And that’s okay.” He meant it, even though he really wished that wasn’t the case. “Just don’t be a prick about it. Don’t drop off the face of the earth. We didn’t mean to freak you out. I swear we won’t even mention it again. Just…”
Just what? Just still be his friend? He wasn’t in high school any more. Still… “Friends?” He took a step back, and held out his hand. It wasn’t exactly a smooth move, but he needed the reassurance.
Colin didn’t reach for his hand. If anything, his posture seemed more guarded, his shoulders folded inward, his chin low. “I told you we’re fine.”
Brad was grateful the next round of classes started in a few minutes and the changing rooms were swiftly emptying, because he wouldn’t be civil for much longer.
He waited until the last of the gym-goers was out the door, and then slammed his palm on the locker, next to Colin’s head. “We’re not fine. Fuck fine.” He liked the way the profanity tasted. It filled the mouth every time. He’d been using it more since he got with Becca, and couldn’t believe he’d avoided it for so many years. “You’re freaked out or pissed off, or something, and it’s my fault. I should have backed down when you said you wouldn’t do it, but all your excuses had to do with how I’d react. I thought you were trying to protect me. When I saw how into Becca you were once clothes were off, I thought you enjoyed it. I didn’t—”
“I did enjoy it.” The words were whispered. ”It was fucking awesome. I haven’t managed to think of anything else for the past three days. I keep revisiting that scene in my head. I’ve jerked off to it more times than I can count.” He rubbed his face, avoiding Brad’s gaze.
This was going a completely different way than Brad had expected. A much better way. “Then join us on Saturday.”
“No.”
Brad rolled his shoulders. Colin could be infuriating when he was like this. He wouldn’t tell Brad what the matter was, even though there was obviously something wrong. Unluckily for Colin, Brad wasn’t used to losing arguments in or out of court. “What is it? Talk to me. Is it that we went about it so sneakily? I told you why we did it. I promise everything will be straight forward now on.”
Colin snorted. “Now on? You mean on Saturday? When I’m to be Becca’s present?” His words were laced with distaste.
“Is that your problem? You think we see you as a thing? A sex toy?” Brad couldn’t help raising his voice, and was glad there were no spectators. “We’d have used a vibrator, if that was the case, Colin. I want her to have that experience, and I want to share it with you. If you’re not cool with it, if you’re upset for whatever reason—”
Colin glared. “I already told you I had fun. No harm, no foul. I’m just busy on Saturday, but I’m fine. Honest.”
Brad leaned in closer. “Then why is your pulse jumping in your throat? Tell me the truth.”
Colin frowned. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then huffed. By the time he finally spoke, he looked pained. “Okay. Here’s some truth for you, but remember I didn’t want to say anything. I loved fucking Becca.”
“Yeah, well, that was the point.”
Colin shook his head. “You don’t get it. I loved being with her. Inside her. But it’s more than that. I think of her more than I should. I like talking to her, and I actually care what she has to say.” He gave Brad a pleading look. “I can’t remember the last time I… If I touch her again, if I keep seeing her like that, I won’t be able to handle it. It won’t just be fucking.”
Brad should be jealous. A few months ago, with another girl, he’d have been upset, but a few months ago he wouldn’t have dreamed of doing half the things he did with Becca.
Colin got in his face. “Say something. Yell at me. I’m falling for your girl, damn it.” He sounded close to breaking down. “Tell me I’m filthy. That I should keep my distance. Tell me you never want to see me again.”
Brad was the one who insisted Colin have sex with Becca. Brad orchestrated the ruse that gave Becca the time to chip away at Colin’s defenses, and to his surprise, he wasn’t bothered at all by what he was hearing. All he could think was that he didn’t want Colin hurting.
“Saturday doesn’t have to be a one-time thing.” Brad tried to pour more meaning into his tone than his words conveyed. “Becca and I have talked about it. We can keep having fun. All three of us.”
Colin grabbed his shirt in both fists and shook him. “This isn’t about having fun. This isn’t about doing it like bunnies. I’m not your fuck toy. I can’t check my feelings at the door and leave the two of you in each other’s arms at the end of the night.”
“That’s not what we’re asking,” Brad said. Wasn’t it? And when did he and Becca decide on wanting anything more than an extra body in their bed on occasion? Colin made sense, and Brad had to respect his friend’s wishes. “I get it, though,” he said. “I won’t pressure you into joining us this Saturday. Becca will understand. Subject is closed.” He didn’t know how he managed to be so calm, when his heart hammered in his chest.
The subject was apparently not closed for Colin. “I’m afraid, man. You were right. I’m scared I’ll fall for her and lose you. That I’ll cost you one another. Aren’t you?”
Brad probably should be. Colin was a charismatic asshole, and even though Brad suspected his own feelings for Becca were returned, relationships ended all the time. She might eventually choose Colin over him, and then he’d have no one. But first he had to have them both. He could figure things out later.
“No,” he said. “I’m not. You talk about living life to the fullest, but you chicken out when it gets real. Even if feelings do develop, even if things get out of hand, I’m ready for anything. I have Becca, and maybe we’ll find someone else to join us.” The last bit was added out of spite. He wanted to piss Colin off. Maybe that would take his own mind off why he was trying to convince his friend it was okay to fall for his girlfriend.
“What I feel is wrong.” Colin still held on to Brad’s shirt.
“Not if it doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“It can hurt me,” Colin said through gritted teeth.
“I won’t let it.” Again Brad made a promise he didn’t fully understand. “If you fall for her, and she falls for you…maybe she won’t have to choose.” Where had that come from? He and Becca had invited Colin to their bed, not their relationship.
Colin’s eyes held confusion and something else. Hope? Whatever it was, it vanished as swiftly as it had appeared. “Please let it go. This isn’t good for any of us. What happened—I shouldn’t have done it.”
He regretted one of the best nights of Brad’s life.
Ice water poured through Brad’s veins. “I see. Okay.” He slapped Colin’s hands away, and turned to leave.
“I said I’d tell you the truth, so”—Colin took a sharp breath—“it’s not just about Becca. I can’t do this with you. ”
Brad faced him again. Studied his drawn face through narrowed eyes. Did Colin mean he wanted Becca to himself, or…
“If I keep seeing you naked, so close to me, eventually looking won’t be eno
ugh. I’ll slip, and I’ll touch you. And you’ll be disgusted by me.”
Brad could hear the unspoken ‘too.’ Colin had told him about his fallout with his brother, who’d waited until their father was hospitalized to spew bile at Colin for his sexual preferences. “I’m not Alan, Colin.”
Colin let out a forced laugh. “Oh, believe me, I know. I never wanted to fuck my brother.”
And there it was, out in the open. The one word that changed it all.
Fuck.
Colin wanted to fuck him.
And Brad was actually wondering how that would feel. Who’d be plowing whose ass? Would it hurt?
“Say something,” Colin said.
Wasn’t it funny how Brad had bitched that Colin didn’t talk to him, and now he was the one at a loss for words?
“Fuck. Talk to me, Brad.”
There was that word again. Before he even realized he was doing it, Brad grabbed Colin from the back of his neck, and smashed his lips to Colin’s.
Colin dug his fingers into Brad’s shoulders, but made no effort to pull away. He did nothing at first—just stood stock still, while Brad probed at his lips with his tongue. Then, as if his resistance melted away, he slid his large palms up to cup Brad’s face, and sucked on Brad’s tongue. He nipped at Brad’s lower lip, gently at first, then bit harder.
Brad growled. He drove Colin backward without breaking the kiss, until Colin was sandwiched between Brad’s body and the row of lockers, one of Brad’s thighs wedged between Colin’s legs. Colin’s erection felt warm through Brad’s jeans. The towel must have slipped away.
Brad wanted to look down, but he was too busy being lost in Colin’s mouth. His lips weren’t as smooth as Brad was used to, and his stubble scratched, but his mouth felt every bit as inviting as Becca’s.
Becca. Shit. Brad couldn’t be doing this. He had a girlfriend.
He wasn’t gay.
Couldn’t be kissing Colin—and liking it.
Shit.
Fuck.
Brad pulled away, shaking his head. He couldn’t look at Colin, or he might end up losing himself in another kiss. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He turned and fled.
Colin’s voice still caught up with him. “Tell me again nobody gets hurt.”
Chapter Four
Brad should talk to Becca. She wasn’t easily shocked, and often knew what he wanted before he did. Maybe she’d help him clear his head, or even indulge him, like he did her. She might insist he shouldn’t deny himself his wants. Talk to Colin. The three of them could have fun in combinations other than what Brad initially planned for Saturday.
Of course, she might not be half as understanding as he hoped. She might leave him. And the way he’d run out on Colin, Colin probably wouldn’t want anything more to do with him either.
How had he messed up this way? Why did he have to kiss Colin like that?
He’d do it again in a heartbeat.
His phone buzzed again. The prolonged vibration meant a call. He glanced at the screen. Becca’s smiling face looked up at him. He’d taken this pic just before she’d gone down on him in a parking lot.
His cock stirred again—not that his erection had abated completely since his lips had found Colin’s.
He smacked the wheel, and put the call on speaker. “Hey, babe.”
“Hello, Bradley.”
His erection problem was instantly resolved by his mother’s dry voice. Shit. She was with Becca.
“Mother. How may I help you?”
“You may answer your phone when I repeatedly try to reach you. We had an appointment today, which you missed.”
He grimaced. “I’m sorry. Something came up. I thought Sarah explained.”
Becca should be at work. Even if she forgave him for kissing a guy, she’d kill him for being the reason his mother dropped in on her. While she painted the same apartment she and Colin had fucked in on Friday.
Brad’s life was way too complicated.
“Something always seems to come up lately.” Her tone went impossibly more frigid. “I blame it on the company you keep.”
She meant Becca. She’d disliked her instantly when the two met during one of his mother’s surprise visits at his place. Brad went from defensive to pissed off in no time. “You better get used to that company, Mother. I plan on keeping her around for a long time.”
She gave a delicate snort. Everything the woman did came off as delicate, even though she was one of the hardest people he knew. It was all part of the deception that for years had convinced him she was always right.
“We’ll see about that,” she said.
Brad honked at someone trying to overtake him, and swerved left to get out of traffic. He had to get to Becca before his mother did more damage than his upcoming confession would. “Was there a reason for this phone call, other to point out everything that’s wrong with my life?” He didn’t try to hide his irritation.
“There was, indeed. I’ve had an offer to sell the company. I wanted to do you the courtesy of informing you in person, but since you couldn’t keep our appointment”—she sighed—“I guess this will have to suffice. I’ll need you to prepare a full presentation on the company’s growth the past three years, first thing Wednesday morning.”
“You’re going ahead with the sale?” His father had built the company. It was the reason he’d been absent most of Brad’s childhood. Brad wouldn’t let her see how much he hated the idea of selling, but she knew.
“I’m certainly considering it.”
Punishment. She was taking the company from him, as punishment for Becca. “Who’s the buyer?” he asked, unable to think of anything else to say.
His mother either didn’t hear him or decided to ignore his question. Her voice sounded far from the receiver. “Here you are, Rebecca. I’m sure my son will need some consoling now. That is what you’re good at, I suppose.”
“Mother!” His voice was a growl, but the line went dead. Becca could handle his mother, but she shouldn’t have to, damn it. His family. His problem.
He’d warned his mother not to make him choose, but she was too stubborn to just let things go. He stepped on the gas, and took a narrow right turn. He was minutes from the building Becca worked on. If he got there before his mother left, she would get a long-overdue earful.
He parked just as his mother’s car peeled off the curve. His choices were to either go after her, or run to Becca and do some damage control. As much as he itched to tell his mother exactly what he thought of her, Becca was a priority. And maybe losing the company would be a good thing. He could return to practicing law, and his mother would lose the final dregs of her hold on him.
He locked the car and took the stairs up two at a time. The third floor felt miles away, and his imagination ran rampant. Becca wouldn’t be there. She’d have finally realized he was too much trouble. His mother could have threatened her. Tried to buy her off. Becca wasn’t interested in his money, but if she thought they had no future together, she might take the way out.
He had to get a grip. This was his life, not a soap opera, and even if Lorena Miller went around buying people, Becca wasn’t for sale.
He stormed inside the apartment, and his heart skipped a beat when he didn’t see Becca in the living room. “Becca? Baby?”
Nothing. She couldn’t have just up and left without a word. Maybe she was in the bathroom. Or downstairs grabbing a snack. To his surprise, he found her painting the second bedroom, a beer bottle in her left hand.
“You okay?” he asked.
When she didn’t answer, he noticed her earphones. She was listening to music.
“Becca,” he said louder.
She snapped her head his way, and smiled when she saw him. “Hi, you.”
“Are you okay?”
“Sure.” She pulled out the earphones, and her hair moved off her left cheek, to reveal a vivid blush from her chin to the corner of her eye.
No. Not a blush. “She slapped
you?” Brad saw red. He clenched his fists, and gritted his teeth to bite back the bile he felt for his mother.
“She slapped me first.”
An incredulous chuckle escaped him. “You slapped my mother?” He wished he’d witnessed that. His mother was used to trampling all over people, but Becca had given her a taste of her own medicine. Not even the part of him that harbored his leftover Catholic guilt had a problem with that.
The smile fell from Becca’s lips. “As I said, she started it. And she continued it with some lovely words about my weight and sexual proclivities.”
“Fuck.” He punched the wall, and felt like an idiot when his knuckles came away scraped and coated with pale blue paint. “That woman drives me nuts.”
“I know she’s your mother, but she’s a horrible person. Really horrible.” Her façade cracked, and he saw the pain and insecurity beneath it. Her beautiful eyes were red rimmed, and her lower lip trembled. “I mean, I held my own, but—”
He closed the distance between them, and wrapped her in his arms. In her flats, she was a foot shorter than his six-foot-four, and despite her curves, felt small against him. She buried her face in his chest, and though she made no sound, he felt her tears soaking his shirt.
“She’s beyond horrible, but whatever her issue, it’s with me. You’re perfect the way you are. Don’t let her make you doubt yourself. You’re gorgeous, and smart, and”—fuck it; he wouldn’t wait any longer—“I love you.”
“I called her a bitch. I called your mom a bitch. I’m so sorry.” Her voice was muffled. Had she heard him?
It didn’t matter. He’d say it again, when she was happy, and she’d hear him then. “She deserved worse. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should have dealt with her, but I thought she’d eventually cool down.”
“So you don’t hate me?”