Electric Sunshine (Brooklyn Boys Book 1)

by E. Davies

  On the other hand, I wanted to keep our arrangement monetary. It meant I could walk away at any time, and that made me safe.

  I was safe right now, I reminded myself. I could try this, and if I didn’t like it, I could just walk away.

  I already knew I would like it, though. There was no way my body would have been this on-edge all night, in a way I’d forgotten, if we’d had a lousy connection.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “Kiss me.”

  The eager grin of relief that Kev gave me was impossible to fake. “God, I was hoping you’d say that,” he whispered, and he scooted closer until our thighs touched. He kept his hand on my knee, and his other hand rested on my shoulder to gently turn me to face him.

  I knew how to do this. Just because I hadn’t in so long didn’t mean I didn’t remember.

  My own desperation surprised me as I leaned into his touch, my whole body flaring up with need. Yes, I wanted to say. Yes, please. I barely bit back the words.

  He read my body language, though. He didn’t make me beg for it. He just closed the distance between us, gently pressing his lips against mine for a few long seconds.

  For a few seconds, I froze, almost unsure what to do. Then my body relaxed and remembered.

  It was like letting go of one language and embracing another, with its whole new way of thinking, its gestures and unspoken movements, its history and shared culture.

  Just for a minute, I wasn’t the uptight architect everyone saw. I was a man who loved men again—who loved holding and touching them, looking at them, kissing them, breathing in their scent. Loved the way they walked and talked and fucked. Loved their passion and cattiness and distance and warmth and all the myriad contrasts of the whole damn lot of us.

  In that moment, I loved him, and for the first time in a long time, I loved me.

  The kiss and its significance took my breath away, and made me press close for more. My arm slid around his shoulders, pressing his body into mine and breathing him in deeply.

  The soft gasp he gave against my lips made me feel stronger now, in charge of this. The fear had passed. All that was left was desire.

  I shivered with pleasure at the way he eagerly pressed into me, his hands roaming over my chest and shoulders. He felt like a man starving for attention, and I reacted well to that. I needed to make him feel as precious, as fascinating, as gorgeous, as I found him.

  In the privacy of my own thoughts, I could daydream about being the one to sweep him off his feet, even if I knew it wasn’t reality.

  That finally made me pull away from him, my lips sensitive. God, I hadn’t kissed anyone in so long that I’d almost forgotten what the scrape of stubble against my chin felt like, or the way I still tasted him on my lips. A hint of peppermint, from the restaurant’s complimentary mints.

  “Well?” Kev murmured, his hands still on my shoulders. His gaze grew more intense as he waited for an answer.

  It was impossible to sum up everything that had gone through my head. It felt like I’d just put down a box of thoughts and anxieties I’d been carrying on my shoulder for miles. “That was good,” I breathed out.

  Kev let out a breath of relieved laughter. “I was worried for a moment.”

  “But I need some time alone now,” I told him apologetically, biting my lip. It sounded like a brush-off, but I didn’t mean it that way. It was true. I had to figure out what the hell this meant for me, and I had no idea what might come up once I let my thoughts start rolling. I wasn’t going to subject him to that.

  He smiled softly, like he’d expected it. “All right. You have my number. Text me if you want to meet up again,” he told me.

  “Thank you for a great night,” I told him, and I meant it. I tried not to seem over-eager as I touched his knee to show my sincerity.

  “No, thank you.”

  I rose to my feet and offered him a hand getting up, then steered him to the door. God, my hand itself seemed to automatically find his lower back—like it was meant to be there. I dropped it quickly, like I’d been burned, and slid my hands into my pockets.

  It was all so strange. It looked like a date, felt like a date, but it wasn’t. Or was it? My lines were getting blurry. I didn’t know what I’d expected, but it had been something… other than this. Something that felt like a cold, commercial transaction. Something like I expected a Grindr hookup to be.

  But even though this was technically commercial, he wasn’t faking the warmth of his smile as he reached out. “Do I get a good night hug?”

  “You get a good night kiss, if you give me those eyes,” I told him with a grin as I embraced him. This time, it felt natural to press our bodies together and relax into Kev’s warm, strong hug.

  He pulled back just enough to press his lips against mine for a long, slow, and undeniably sensual kiss. His tongue and lips worked along mine, like he was gently trying to tease every nerve in my body awake.

  It worked, too. I shifted, my pants suddenly that much tighter, and finally pulled back.

  I could barely breathe as I murmured, “Good night, Kev.”

  “Good night, Charlie.” Kev squeezed my shoulder and finally turned to head out the door.

  The moment he reached the front porch, I wanted to call him back. I wanted to say we’ve still got fifteen minutes, haven’t we? I wanted to wring out every last moment of his company, like a refreshing drink after a long, hot summer’s day.

  What the hell had come over me?

  I raised my hand in a silent wave when he reached the sidewalk and turned for another look. He waved back, smiled, and then he was gone.

  I shut the door, turned my back to it, and slid down it. I sat in the entrance hall for a few minutes, staring at nothing in particular, trying to get a handle on my emotions. To handle them, though, I needed to name them. I wasn’t sure I could do that.

  The date was everything I’d expected and so much more, and so much deeper. But it was also my first date in so long that anything was going to be amazing, like water after a whole day on a construction site when you forgot your water bottle. How the hell was I supposed to deal with that?

  Eventually, I coaxed myself into getting up again and tidying up the place. I moved on autopilot as I took our half-full glasses to the kitchen, set them on the counter, and then folded my arms and stared at the glasses like they contained the answers to his heart, or mine.

  The glass half-full was a metaphor for optimism, but what about two glasses half-full? If you put them together, there was enough for one full glass.

  That seemed like a metaphor, but I resisted it.

  I was taking this to heart because it was my first date in ages, not because he was the one for me. And what the hell did the one mean, anyway? Hugh had been the one, and now look.

  Dating other men would mean admitting that there wasn’t a soulmate for everyone, wouldn’t it? Or did it mean that there were multiple soulmates? Or that the whole thing was a crock of shit, and you were just supposed to find someone who put up with you for a lifetime?

  I had no idea. Back when I’d been just the widower Charlie, everything was simpler. Now that I was back on the market, nothing made sense anymore.

  “Back to normal,” I told myself. This was just like the disorientation of landing in another continent after a long time away. I needed a routine.

  So I checked my voicemail as I grabbed a glass of water for bed.

  “Hey, Charlie.”

  I nearly dropped the glass in the sink. Goddamn, of course it was Chris. Hugh’s dad.

  “Hope you’re doing well. I think you’re back in the country now, huh? Linda and I were wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner on Saturday. Let us know if you’re free.”

  I hung up and shut off the tap, then brought my glass upstairs to bed.

  It was nothing new. I spent plenty of time around Hugh’s family. They’d basically taken me in as another son, after all, even if I’d never become their son-in-law.

  What the hell would t
hey say if they knew I’d gone on a date with an escort tonight, and now I was fantasizing about dating him so I didn’t have to be emotionally vulnerable ever again? God, that made me a loser.

  I needed to talk to Ben. If anyone could help, it was him.

  As soon as I was naked under the sheets in bed, I dialed.

  As usual, he picked up. “Ben,” I greeted. “I’ve got a dilemma.” I wanted to say the words fast enough that I couldn’t back out.

  He was never taken aback by me anymore, however blunt I was. It seemed hard to get him angry in general, which I liked. It was a valuable trait in someone living here, where the choice every morning was road rage or MTA rage. “This is the help desk, go ahead.”

  I chuckled grimly. “Love life help desk?”

  “Ohhhhh. What’s going on?” Ben sounded excited, and it wasn’t surprising. It had been years since I’d even shown an interest in having one.

  “I went on a date and I kind of liked it.”

  Ben caught his breath. His voice squeaked when he said, “Whoa!”

  “I know,” I assured him with a quiet chuckle.

  He’d been there for me through the rough nights when I woke up at one o’clock and wished with everything I had that I could roll over into Hugh and hug him against me. He’d seen me keep my composure until I walked into the house, and then sit on the floor and cry my eyes out, unable to even stand for long enough to get to the couch. He’d seen me lose interest in men, and in the rest of my life, and run on autopilot. He’d seen me get back up, but never out there again.

  He knew damn well that I wouldn’t say this lightly.

  “Who? When? Gimme more!” Ben prompted. “Holy shit.”

  I hesitated. I could tell him anything—but this seemed like a step too far. Would he judge me? Or, worse, Kev?

  When I didn’t answer immediately, Ben’s voice turned serious as he added, “Charlie? Tell me what’s going on.”

  I let a long sigh out. I had to trust in someone here, and it sure as hell wasn’t gonna be my family or Hugh’s family or my coworkers. It had to be Ben. “I kind of accidentally hired an escort.”

  Ben’s noise of reaction was something between a choked laugh and a gasp. “Charlie!”

  “I know,” I groaned. “I just wanted a date, with no strings, where I couldn’t hurt the other guy’s feelings if I turned out to be… you know, stuck in the past.”

  “And?”

  “What? No that’s illegal, dipshit?” I asked, frowning.

  “You’re a dumbass if you think I care about that,” Ben snorted. “Unless—wait, he wasn’t a cop, was he? Are you calling me to bail you out?”

  “No! God. He wasn’t. I just thought…” I trailed off, my cheeks flushing. I knew Ben. So why was I so worried? “You’re right, sorry. I’ve made such a big deal of it in my head, that’s all.”

  “How was it accidental? Did you accidentally click on a Craigslist link?” Ben teased.

  I groaned. “Shut up. No, I went to a bar last night—”

  “—Goddamn, you’ll be telling me you’re hitting up swingers’ parties at this rate—”

  “—and a guy approached us. The guy I was talking to said he’s an escort. I found him on Grindr and… well, messaged him…”

  Ben gasped again. “You’re on Grindr? Jesus! Are you okay, dude?”

  I sighed. I could see how it looked like I’d just had a personality swap with an alien. “I saw the guy open Grindr when he walked away.”

  “Aha. And you were hoping to meet him again,” Ben surmised.

  “Right.”

  “Are you into him? You know, not just in bed.”

  I wished I could punch his shoulder. He was grinning now. I could hear it. “Asshole. We didn’t even fuck, I’ll have you know.”

  “What? You paid an escort and you didn’t even…” Ben laughed. “Charlie, oh my God.”

  “He’s not just… I wasn’t looking for…” I trailed off, my cheeks flushed. “All of this is beside the point. Hugh’s dad called me and they want me over for dinner on Saturday. But I was gonna ask him out for another date instead, this weekend.”

  “A paid date,” Ben emphasized. “It’s not the same, baby.”

  I didn’t appreciate the patronizing tone, even if I knew why he was saying it. He didn’t want me getting my heart broken by the first guy I’d seen in half a decade. “Yeah. I know. That’s what’s so appealing.”

  “That you can see him whenever you want, do whatever you want, and not have to worry about losing him?”

  Fucking ouch. I considered hanging up, but Ben would only call me back right away. I sighed and put the phone back to my ear. He ought to have been right, and it wasn’t his fault that my heart had suddenly gotten involved. “We’re not that serious yet. I wanted a date where he can tell me if I’m doing a good job before I go make an idiot of myself in the dating world. You forget what it’s like not to date for so damn long.”

  Looking eligible and attractive to other guys was suddenly the least of my worries, but Ben didn’t have to know that.

  It was just a stupid attraction that came from sudden exposure to human contact after years of isolation. It would go away once I started going on regular old dates with plain old guys. Guys who would inevitably be less interesting, attractive, smart, or smooth.

  Fuck. I was already doing the comparison thing. Maybe it had been a long time since I’d felt a crush, but I recognized it.

  “Okay, babe,” Ben said, trying on his soothing voice. “Tell Chris and Linda yes. No point in upsetting them and shutting yourself away. And tomorrow night, you and me. Mandatory drinks. We’ll figure this out. You don’t need to pay someone for it.”

  I didn’t mind paying Kev for his company, but at least Ben was trying to calm me down. It would be good to have some help figuring out what the hell was going on with me.

  “Fine,” I agreed. “Text me when you’re off work.”

  “Will do. Get some sleep,” Ben told me.

  I doubted it, but I said, “Thanks. Night,” anyway before I hung up. I had just enough time to think, How the hell am I gonna get through this one? before my eyes shut.

  8

  Kev

  “You’re fucking kidding,” I grumbled, tossing my phone on my bed. Another goddamn Grindr profile shut down overnight. As I swallowed my daily PrEP pill with the glass of water on my bedside table, I tried to brainstorm other solutions.

  This was getting tedious, and I was starting to worry that they might report me to the police. The last thing I needed was to have some cops on my ass. That really would drive me to working street corners, and I would never do that again.

  Not only would Adam kick my ass, but so would the closest thing I had to big brothers.

  I’d stumbled on a gay-run dude ranch in Tennessee last autumn, and decided to drop by for some quick cash. I’d just assumed the place would be easy money if I could hide out from the owners.

  Instead of the easy hookups I’d expected, I’d run into the owner right away. Josh was only a few years older than me but way wiser. He had taken me in, offered me the job and a place to live, and… well, the rest was history.

  Josh and Evan—the owner’s boyfriend—had taken the time to give both Adam and me as much work experience as we could handle. In our short but intense internship with them on their ranch, I’d driven tractors, done accounting, and everything in between.

  It had given me a taste for other jobs. Not crappy retail jobs, but jobs where I could do different kinds of interesting things.

  Not that I hated escorting, but all the bullshit that had sprung up around it, making it harder and harder to do safely and with any measure of dignity? It started to make other lines of work look more attractive, and I was goddamn lucky that I had some other experience, a roommate, and a credit card.

  “Bad luck again?” Adam called from the kitchen, where he was pouring us coffee and bowls of cereal.

  I sighed. “Yeah. Another profile shut down
. No way can I make it work with just my paid ad sites, though.” Some people used them, but not enough. All the guys who might want to hire me were on Grindr. It was easy pickings… or it had been, anyway.

  “I keep telling you, they’re always looking for employees at my place. Or any old convenience store. It’s reliable hours,” Adam said.

  “And I keep saying no.”

  Adam was juggling bowls and cups as he pushed past the blanket in my makeshift doorway to bring me cereal and coffee. The lack of privacy was getting old, but whatever. Adam plopped on the bed with his own bowl and mug, shoveling cereal into his face. “Yeah, but you should try it out,” he said around a mouthful.

  “Gross,” I told him—both the prospect of working retail and his idea of table manners.

  For starters, I’d need clothes I didn’t mind getting ruined. Wearing my thrift store Armani to work at a corner store was a recipe for mugging, dry-cleaning, or both.

  But it would be predictable income, he was right. And when my last job before Charlie had been several days prior, and paid less than I was used to…

  “What’s wrong with me? Am I getting old?”

  Adam paused and then choked with laughter, which answered my question.

  “Never mind,” I mumbled, blushing.

  “If your job’s making you question whether twenty-three is old, there might be a problem,” Adam pointed out.

  I made a face. I hated to admit it, but he had a point there, too. I spent so much time obsessing over details of my skincare regimen, my clothing, and how old I should tell people I was.

  I didn’t mind reading newspapers to stay current on world events, taking online courses so I could understand enough to ask smart questions, that kind of stuff. It didn’t make me feel bad like staring at myself in the mirror did.

  “Every job has its perks and pitfalls,” I told him. “But bring in a job application, I guess.”

  “One step ahead of you!” Adam scrambled to his feet so fast he flipped his cereal bowl and spilled milk and soggy Lucky Charms all over the foot of my bed.