by TL Gehr
“Why did you think that?”
“Because you were nervous around me?” He noticed that, then.
I scratch the back of my neck. “Yeah, there may have been another reason for that.”
His eyes go wide with realization, but I’m curious about Malena.
“Is there something I should know about her?”
He frowns. “No, there’s something you shouldn’t know unless she tells you.”
Unless she tells me? “I’m pretty sure she’s not gay. I’ve seen her with those biker guys. Unless that’s all an act.”
“I’m also pretty sure she’s not gay given the fact that I exist.”
“Right. So… you’re not going to tell me?”
Brian is fidgeting with his coffee cup. I think he’s forgotten he’s carrying it. He’s shredding it between his fingers. I take it gently from him and toss it into a recycling bin. “Can you give me a clue?”
“I’m the clue.” He doesn’t meet my gaze. “The way I am is the clue.”
“She didn’t hit you?” I regret it as soon as I say it. Even if it was likely, that’s not the way to bring it up. Brian kicks some gravel off the path and says, “Turns out I’m more like my mom than my dad.”
Then I get it. “She’s an addict.” I need to know, “Was or still is?”
“‘Still is’ in the sense that there isn’t really a cure. ‘Was’ in the sense that she’s obviously clean now. Just like me, trying to make a new life in NYC.” Bitterness leaks into his voice when he adds. “‘Was’ in that, for a particular nine months in the past, she wasn’t clean.”
The reality of his situation slams into me. She used while he was in the womb. Just a tiny helpless fetus being pumped full of drugs. How could she do that? “Oh, Brian…”
“So, that’s why my parents split. Dad didn’t know until I was born in withdrawals. He divorced her immediately. His whole life since then has been about keeping me safe and happy and I still fucked it up for him.” He shakes his head. “I ruined his life. More than once. I was an awful son. But my old man, he just read self-help and parenting books and just kept on being there for me. That’s the real reason I’m here now. I was curious to meet her, get some closure, but what I wanted most was to stop being a burden, to do something in my shitty life to make him proud.”
My heart breaks for him. I’ve heard that drugs make you do awful things out of desperation and, knowing what a gentle person Brian is, I can only imagine how it hurts his soul now he’s on the other side of it. I take him into my arms and hold him. He leans into me. We stay like that a long time.
Eventually, Brian looks up. “This won’t impact her job, right?”
“No, you told me in confidence.”
“Yeah, I told Boyfriend Philip. Not Boss Philip.”
“Boyfriend Philip. I like that.”
He smiles and he snuggles into me as we continue along the path.
26
Brian
“Oh, I, uh got something for you,” Philip reaches into his pocket and pulls out a rectangular gray box.
No, the box isn’t gray. It’s wrapped in silver paper. It’s a gift that’s actually gift-wrapped.
This night is the type that makes me wish I had a photographic memory so I could play it back over and over. We just spent about an hour wandering around the giant Chelsea Market—an old factory filled with food stalls that attaches to the High Line. I can’t believe they’re still open this late, but Philip says they only close at two. I wish I’d skipped dinner just so I could try more of the options. He got us tacos from a place that’s supposed to be the best taco place in the whole of Manhattan, then I got us some brownies from a stall called the Fat Witch Bakery because I liked the name. Both were heavenly. Then Philip led me, full and happy, to an underground bar that looks like it’s straight out of a Studio Ghibli movie. It’s mostly brickwork, with whimsical metal trellises draped with fairy lights. We’re at a table at the back, sipping our drinks while holding hands. This is not what I would have expected a date with a billionaire to be like, but it’s exactly what I would have expected a date with Philip to be like, had I ever allowed myself to imagine it.
Except, now there’s a perfectly wrapped gift sitting on the table between us. That seems more the billionaire type of thing and I’m not sure why that makes me so uncomfortable. Maybe I’m just not used to receiving gifts. I get one every year from Dad on my birthday and one from “Santa” for Christmas (yes, even now). Gifts that come out of nowhere are a bit like merchandise with price tags you can’t read. There’s usually a cost later down the line, and you don’t get a say in whether you’re willing to pay it.
I take the box tentatively. They’re playing some old-school rock ’n’ roll and Elvis is crooning. I slowly peel aside the paper to reveal what Philip got for me. My heart slams painfully when I see it. Surprise? Shock? I don’t know. It’s a brand-new iPhone and I push it back across the table as if it burned me.
Philip startles in his seat. “What’s wrong?”
I can feel my heartbeat in my throat. I know how much new smartphones cost. I shake my head. “It’s too much.”
He takes the box. I think he’s going to accept my protest, but instead he opens it and pulls out the phone. It’s on. He’s already set it up. He places it back on the table between us. “It has voice assist and GPS.”
“My current phone has GPS.” I don’t mention how I try not to use it because it chows my battery, or how often it drops.
“Hey, Siri, what is a 15% tip on a $20 bill?” Philip asks the phone.
“The tip is three US Dollars,” it replies.
“Hey, Siri, what’s 241 times 336?”
The female voice reads out the absurdly long number.
“Hey, Siri, take me to Brian’s apartment.”
“Getting directions to Brian’s apartment. Starting route.”
Not only did Philip remember my address, he programmed it into the phone.
“Hey, Siri, what’s my ETA?”
“You should be there in about twelve minutes.”
He looks up at me. The point he’s trying to make is clear.
I fold my arms. “Should I leave you two alone?”
His expression clouds. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought it could help.”
It could help and that in and of itself is humiliating. The last thing I want to think about right now is my broken brain. “It’s too much, Philip. I could never get you a gift like this.”
“I don’t need you to get me gifts like this.”
“That’s not the point. The point is we should be equals.”
“We are equals in all the ways that matter. But I happen to have been born with the silver spoon in my mouth and more money than I could spend in a lifetime. It’s not an achievement. It doesn’t make me better than anyone else. It’s just luck. Can’t I share that luck with someone I care about?”
“I’m not with you for your money.”
“I know that.”
“I don’t need expensive gifts.”
“No, but you need a new phone.”
I look away from him, realizing there’s no arguing that particular point considering that he’s seen my phone.
He takes both of my hands in his. “I’m not trying to buy your affection. If it came across that way, I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to buy my affection, you’ve had it since day two.”
A hint of a dimple. “Maybe my timing was bad. I should have waited until this wasn’t so fresh. I just… I didn’t want to withhold something that could be helping you. I actually ordered it last week. It came into the store today.”
He ordered it before we kissed. I don’t know why that makes me feel better, but it does. My expression must convey some of that, because he forges on.
“I’ve been doing a lot of reading on dyscalculia.” He lets go of my hand to pick up the phone again. “It seemed to me that this might solve a lot of your problems.”
How did he know that’s what I have? He must have taken it upon himself to research my symptoms and figure it out. I can’t believe he did that.
“You ordered it to help me with work?” I ask
“Would you accept it if I said I did? Gift from Boss Philip, not from Boyfriend Philip?”
I frown. “Hey Siri, how do I make a Caffè Mocha?”
“Okay, I found this on the web for how do I make a Caffè Mocha. Check it out.” The screen fills with a list of search results.
“It’s not perfect,” Philip admits. “Hey Siri, remind me to learn how to make a Caffè Mocha when I get to Brian’s apartment.” He gives me a cheeky smile and passes the phone to me.
“Okay, your reminder is set,” Siri says. The reminder flashes up on the screen with a “When arriving at Brian’s Apartment” geotag.
I try not to smile as I whisper into the microphone, “Hey, Siri, remind me to take off Philip’s clothes when I get to Brian’s apartment.”
A gorgeous grin blooms across Philip’s lips. The clouds are gone, only sunshine now.
We both have work tomorrow and it’s already so late. This is probably not a good idea.
“Okay, your reminder is set.”
I raise my eyebrows in question.
Philip shrugs. “You heard the lady”.
We’re on each other as soon as the door closes, lips smashing together. The cab ride here was torture. We didn’t even touch. But then we got inside and we took the stairs two at a time, laughing at how desperate we were to get into bed. (“Reminder: Take off Philip’s clothes. Complete?” went the phone.) On the second landing, Philip pressed me against the wall and stole a kiss. I clung to him, hungry for more, but he nipped at my ear and set me free. A promise of what was to come.
Now we’re in my apartment and we crash into the room, toppling one of the stools at the breakfast bar and nearly tripping over my discarded clothes. I reach for the light switch and manage to get it on the third try. Philip is already peeling my jacket off.
“Sorry about the mess,” I say between kisses. I really wish I’d tidied earlier.
“Don’t care.” Philip’s hands slide under my shirt, and then he pulls it up over my head and tosses it to the floor.
His arms are around me before I can feel cold. I still can’t believe he researched dyscalculia. Most people just accept what I say and then promptly forget about it. I like to think I’m good at hiding it, but maybe he’s just the first person to care enough to dig deeper.
His coat has come off already and it must be somewhere by the door. He’s wearing that aqua shirt again and it’s just as soft as I imagined. I tug him towards the bed. It takes all of five steps—a fact that never bothered me before, but now I’m seeing it through his eyes… “My apartment’s really small.”
“I still live with my folks so I’m not one to judge.” He strips off his own shirt and all thought of my apartment flies from my mind.
Philip tends to keep his assets well hidden, and apparently that goes for his body as much as it does for his money. I knew he had some muscle, because I’d felt hints of it beneath his clothes and on the night we made out. That didn’t prepare me for seeing him like this. There’s a smattering of blond hair across his chest, trailing down over a flat stomach to his bellybutton. His biceps are large and perfectly toned. I want them to hold me. I want them to hold me down. Pink flushes across his neck and he folds his arms. Is he self-conscious? How can he possibly be self-conscious of a body like that? I’m the one who should be self-conscious. I’m like 70 percent ribs.
I move up to him and gently unfold his arms. “I’m still getting my fill,” I say quietly. I trace my fingertips down the line of his chest hair. He shivers as I ghost over his belly. Ticklish. I make a mental note. “You’re so beautiful.”
He swallows. “I used to be better. I haven’t seen my trainer in a while. That and… comfort eating.”
“Comfort eating?”
His cheeks go as pink as his neck. One of those awful headlines echoes back at me. Philip Arrigo Allegedly Body-Shamed Chase Shaw, Caused Eating Disorder. What if Chase didn’t just make things up, what if he completely turned things around? What if he accused Philip of shit in the press to stop Philip from being able to go to them with those very same claims?
“He’s really done a number on you.”
Philip shrugs. “It’s not his fault. Dating a model, you start comparing yourself to models.”
I pull Philip close, so that his perfect body is pressed against mine. “You could be a model.”
“I really couldn’t.”
I nuzzle against his neck, kissing the flushed skin. “Would you want to be one?”
“You know what I want to be.”
“Mmm sexy nurse.” I run my hand down his back. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe I get to touch you.”
Philip’s hands settle on my hips, like when we were dancing. “You can touch me as much as you like.”
I move my palms over his skin, exploring him, worshipping him. My cock aches in my jeans but I don’t want to rush this. When I get to his belly, he tenses again. I laugh against his neck. “I’m ticklish there too.”
“Really? I’ll remember that. I’m not though.”
If he’s not ticklish then why did he tense both times I touched him there?
Comfort eating.
I don’t understand. It’s not like he’s got a beer belly. It’s a little soft. It’s nice soft. That’s what he’s so worried about?
I sink to my knees and I kiss his stomach. He tenses again, but as I touch and tease it, he groans, running his fingers over my scalp. I unbuckle his jeans and slide them down his hips. He’s wearing boxer briefs and his hardon is straining against them. I run my hand along his length, feeling him through the fabric. He’s large. My own erection twitches. I free his cock and it bounces in front of my face. Circumcised.
I take him into my mouth. He groans while I suck. I swirl around the tip, enjoying the taste of his precum, then I flatten my tongue and slide him further in. Time to pay back the favor.
He whimpers. I start to build up a rhythm, but then he’s pulling me to my feet and his mouth is back on mine. He’s backing me towards the bed, working at my belt. I receive the message loud and clear. He wants more. But how does he want more? Does he want to be inside me? Or does he want me to be inside him?
I want him to be a top, but I can also see him as an eager-to-please bottom. Fine, if that’s what he is, I can top. I’ve topped before when I had to. Anything, really, so long as we’re screwing.
My pants drop down around my ankles. And a sudden flood of ice drops through my veins at the same time. “Wait,” I say.
Philip stops completely, with his hand resting on my hip and the other on the edge of the bed. “I don’t have… do you have protection?”
I’m such an idiot. I should have gone out to get some after the blow job. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my negative thoughts, I would have.
Philip’s voice is all hot breath. “Yeah I do. Hold on.”
He heads out of the bedroom. He must be searching for his coat. I sink onto the bed, closing my eyes in sweet relief that one of us thought ahead. And if Philip thought to put condoms in his wallet, then that means he was hoping for this when he asked me to meet him. I’m glad he’s not in the room to see the goofy expression that thought paints across my face.
I find the lube in the side drawer and budge up against the headboard. Philip returns holding not one, but a strip of three condoms. He smiles when he sees me holding the lube, but he pauses at the end of the bed and we share that awkward moment of uncertainty. Usually I’d just outright say what I wanted, but Philip is likely to go along with whatever I ask for. I want to know how he wants to do this.
His gaze roves over my body. Our eyes meet. Then he tears open one of the wrappers and starts to put the condom on himself, watching me the whole while. The goofy grin returns to
my lips, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I squeeze lube into my palm and pull my knees up to my chest.
27
Brian
Philip continues to watch me as I press one, then two fingers into my hole, making sure I’m all lubed up and ready for him. My heart is singing. He’s a top. Or, at the very least, he wants to top right now. I’m going to have him inside me. I can’t remember ever being this excited for sex. I’m leaking precum all over my stomach.
After watching me finger myself for a few minutes, Philip crawls up the bed towards me. The heat in his gaze nearly undoes me. A small sound escapes my throat before he’s even touched me. Then he’s there, on top of me, his hands pressed to the headboard on either side of my head, his body radiating warmth, his balls against my ass. He kisses me, sweetly at first and then a deep kiss full of tongue, a hungry kiss that steals my breath. His fingers join mine at my opening. I withdraw, making room for him.
“I was so hoping…” he whispers. “I wasn’t sure.”
“Me too.”
He pushes his index finger into me. He’s torturously slow and he makes a noise low in his throat as I take him in. “So tight.”
I hold my cheeks apart for him and breathe deeply as he works two more fingers into me. If he doesn’t hurry up, I’m going to come right here, just from this. He squeezes out more lube, and while he works the fingers in and out , he dips his head and kisses the tip of my cock. A shock of pleasure spikes through me. I whimper and twist against him. He smiles and lifts his gaze to mine. It’s the same devilish look he gave me the last time he had my cock in his mouth, when I came in like five minutes. But he doesn’t take me in. Instead he licks slowly up from base to tip and when I thrash from side to side he does it again and again. I’m impaled on his fingers, at his mercy.
“Philip…” my voice is so high it doesn’t even sound like mine.
“Yes, Brian?” His is silk.