Leaning Into Series: The Complete Box Set

by Hayes, Lane

  “No.”

  “Then let’s move on,” he said without hesitation. “What are you doing today?”

  “I don’t know. I—” I twisted to face him and let out an exasperated sigh. I didn’t necessarily want to dissect sordid details from my past, but chatting about doing the laundry I’d put off for a week wasn’t any more appealing. It might even be a wasted opportunity to know a little more about Miles. “Why did you come to my room last night?”

  He observed me over his cup then shrugged nonchalantly. “I didn’t want to wake up alone. I hate Sundays.”

  “Okay. I’ll bite. Why? Did you break up with Andy on a Sunday?”

  Miles rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t referring to the ex, but…yes. Truthfully, he just proved a theory that was already in place. Saturday nights are fun, but Sundays suck. You go out dressed in your finest, hoping for a new start, and then wake up alone feeling like shit. Or worse…you wake up with a stranger you’d like to keep in the ‘stranger zone’ and then have to figure out how to get him the fuck out the door while armed with your tattered self-respect and a hangover you know will last all damn day. But sometimes I think it’s worse to lay awake with a head full of doubt and worry. I can’t stand to listen to myself sometimes.”

  “I know what you mean,” I replied automatically.

  “Hmm. I read this article about how people tend to be cruel to themselves. We listen to these negative voices in our heads outlining all the ways we don’t quite measure up. We’re not skinny enough, pretty enough, smart enough. The list goes on.” Miles smacked the armrest before continuing. “And I don’t get it. I’m pretty fucking fabulous! I love my job, my family, my friends. I might not win the Hottest Gay in the Bay Area award, but I’m in good health, and I’m not a complete troll. So why do I beat myself up? It’s like RuPaul says, ‘If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love somebody else?’ ”

  “Maybe it’s part of the healing process after a breakup or—”

  “No. Andy wasn’t the problem. He’s a symptom. If I had more self-respect, I would have kicked his ass to the curb two and a half years ago. Get it? It’s the same construct as an eating disorder. Food isn’t the problem. It’s always something else entirely.”

  I fixed him with a blank stare then glanced out the window. I couldn’t decide if I was irritated or impressed with his diplomatic conversational maneuvering.

  “You’re right. It’s always something else. But I have a hard time believing you suffer from low self-esteem and confidence issues. You’re one of the most in-your-face people I’ve ever met. And in case you need clarification, that’s a grudging compliment.”

  Miles snorted. “Thanks. I think. Looks can be deceiving.”

  “I know.”

  He gave me a sharp sideways glance. “I’m confident until I’m alone. I can’t stand silence. I have music playing twenty-four seven. Literally. I’ve tried every relaxation trick in the book. Ambient music, meditation, show tunes.”

  “Show tunes?” I repeated with a laugh.

  “Yeah. Those don’t work well. A sweet ballad is followed up with a kickass dance number far too often. I’ve been ripped out of alpha sleep by “Chorus Line” more times than I should admit. But if I’m with someone I trust, it’s not so bad.” Miles flashed a winning smile at me. “I trust you. And that, my friend, was a long-winded way of answering your question.”

  “What was my question? I forgot,” I quipped.

  We both chuckled, then Miles set his hand over mine and laced our fingers. “It was something about jumping into your bed at three a.m.”

  “Mmm. I didn’t mind. And I was especially grateful for your diversionary tactics after my dad’s wake-up call. So, thanks.” I raised my cup in a mock toast and tapped it against his.

  “Anytime.” He waited a beat then added, “Can I ask if—is he the reason behind your symptoms?”

  I scoffed then tipped back my coffee. “Not entirely. He definitely doesn’t help, but it’s a little too convenient to blame your parents for your issues.”

  “Maybe so, but everyone does.”

  “So I should thank your parents for your nocturnal wandering?”

  Miles snickered. “No. That’s all me.”

  I glanced out the window again, fully intending to make some inane commentary about the weather. Instead I said, “It’s not my dad’s fault either.”

  “Oh. Whose is it?”

  “No one’s. It just happened. I was a sensitive, overweight kid with an overbearing father and a loud, interfering extended family who celebrated every high and low in life with food. ‘Rough day at school? Too bad, eat. Aced your math quiz? Congratulations, now eat.’ Don’t laugh. I’m not exaggerating. It’s a real phenomenon. No one else gained weight, though. Just me. I had a multitude of worries at a young age. I was dyslexic, terrible at sports, and painfully shy. And that was before I realized I was gay. It was years ago, and I’m definitely a poster child for the ‘It Gets Better’ campaign, but I have to admit, my sexuality pushed me over the edge. I couldn’t handle being…”

  “What?” Miles prodded gently.

  “Me.” I stood slowly and inclined my head toward the door. “Feel like going for a walk?”

  He held his hand out like royalty in a silent request for me to help him from his chair. I complied then gestured for him to go first before holding the door for him. His ginormous grin made me feel ten feet tall. I stuffed my hands into my pockets before I got carried away and darted ahead to clear a pathway for him on the sidewalk.

  “Gosh, it’s so grumpy out today. Where’s the sun?” Miles grumbled, hooking his arm through mine.

  I furrowed my brow but didn’t push him away or ask what the hell he was up to when he leaned his head on my shoulder. “Grumpy?”

  “Yes. Blah, gray, boo, hiss…no fun. Too many cloudy days in a row make me sad.”

  “Are you sad now?” I asked as we turned right on 18th Street.

  “No. I think you’re going to tell me something that’ll make me melancholy, but we’re together, so it’ll be okay.” He cocked his head and gave me a funny look I couldn’t read without a few clues. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

  I huffed in amusement. “You always make uncomfortable, Mi. I think you love watching me squirm.”

  I caught his smirk before he stared straight ahead. “You’re easy to tease. Are you going to tell me any more about your teen years, or should I guess?”

  “There isn’t much to tell. I was a weird kid who grew up in a noisy house where random relatives would stop by for lunch and stay for dinner. I loved the warmth of having so many people around, but I hated the noise. I used to hide when it got too loud.” I made a face and waggled my brows. “See? I told you…weird. And it only got worse when I was a teenager.”

  “How so?”

  “Everything was a struggle. The harder things were at school and the more frustrated my father became with me, the more I withdrew.”

  “I know you can be reserved but…I don’t get how a shy, chubby kid becomes a drool-worthy underwear model.”

  “Drool-worthy, eh? Well, first came a terrible case of the flu. I was sick for days and ended up losing some weight. One of my sisters made a joke about wishing she could lose some weight without vomiting after every meal and…it stuck with me. In less than a year I lost fifty pounds and gained about fifty new problems.” I paused to nod when Miles mouthed the word fifty with an incredulous expression. “I mentally and physically fucked myself over from age sixteen to twenty-four. Actually, I’m still kind of messed up. I have the constitution of a jellyfish. One glass of alcohol makes me tipsy, but two throws me over the edge. My friends could tell you a few gnarly stories of my pathetic party boy days in college. They used to take turns babysitting me,” I said with a laugh. “Poor Josh got the worst of it. He was my roommate all four years at Stanford and off and on after we graduated. He had a front row seat to more dysfunction than he bargained for.”

 
“You’re lucky to have such close friends. You remind me of brothers sometimes with your inside jokes and the way you finish each other’s sentences,” Miles commented wistfully.

  “We are like brothers. Josh, Eric, Zane, and Nick are as much my family as my blood relatives. Honestly, I don’t know if I’d be alive today without them. And that’s not me being dramatic. It’s the truth.” I pressed the button on the crosswalk and inclined my head before offering a lopsided smile. “So, now you know I really am a mess.”

  Miles slipped his hand into mine and returned my smile with something infinitely brighter. “No. Now I know you’re human.”

  “Did you think I was an alien?”

  “Of course. How else can you explain those abs and that perfect ass?”

  I busted up at his awestruck tone. It was too over-the-top to take seriously.

  “You like my ass?” I asked conversationally as I maneuvered us around a slow-moving drag queen walking two Chihuahuas on a rhinestone-studded leash.

  “I love your ass,” he gushed, fluttering his eyelashes comically.

  I stopped short when we reached the other side of the street and then backed him against the brick façade of a bank building and pressed my lips over his. It was a bold move and not one I’d ever tried on any man in public before. But I couldn’t help myself. It felt oddly freeing to share one of the bleaker parts of my past with him. I wanted to thank him somehow but that seemed awkward, so I kissed him instead. I held his head and glided my tongue alongside his, loving the moment when he flung his arms over my shoulders and responded with fervor. When we broke for air, I rested my forehead on his and grinned.

  “Your ass is pretty spectacular too, Mi.”

  He chuckled good-naturedly. “Thanks.”

  “No really. I think I’m in love with it.” I lowered my hands down his back and squeezed his cheeks as I molded his pelvis to mine.

  “That’s kind of romantic. But if you’re thinking about falling in love with me too…don’t.”

  I backed up slightly to get a better look at him. “Okay. I won’t.”

  “Pinky promise.” He held up his right hand and wiggled his fingers.

  “What makes you think you’re so irresistible?” I asked, wrapping my pinky finger around his.

  “I’m not, and you’ll figure it out sooner or later. But I like you and I want you and…”

  “And what you’re really saying is, you don’t want to fall for me.” I kept my tone light, hoping a jocular vibe would steer us from turning this into an uncomfortable conversation.

  “Maybe.”

  “Look, Mi. I’m not—”

  “No. Listen.” He held my chin and stared at me meaningfully. “Don’t make this into a big deal. It’s not. We’re going to have a grand adventure. Just me and you. We’ll do incredible things and have amazing conversations and lots of sex. And when it’s time to say good-bye, we won’t ruin it by pretending we were ever in love. What do you say?”

  Nothing. I had nothing to say. All I could think was, maybe he really was crazy—because who said shit like that?

  But when I looked past the lighthearted swagger, I saw the cracks in his armor. He was scared and battered and raw on the inside. Kind of like me. And somehow, I had a feeling it wasn’t an ex-lover that made him so cautious. I only knew he was right. We were a couple of oddballs who unexpectedly found ourselves inhabiting the same circle. Temporarily.

  But love? I should have walked away. Or at the very least, laughed at his wild leap. Instead, I cocked my head and squinted. “What kind of adventures?”

  Miles grinned. A slow-moving, gorgeous upturn of the lips that morphed into something celestial. He literally took my breath away. I hoped the dizziness faded before I gave him a reason to think it was a good thing he’d issued a warning about getting too attached.

  “All kinds. We’ll turn this town upside down being one hundred percent ridiculous.”

  “Okay…” I gave a half laugh and pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “What do you have in mind? Dancing, parties—”

  “No. More like Trivial Pursuit marathons, Netflix binge-watching fests in our Pjs, the compare and contrast game and—”

  “The what?”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll have fun. You’ll see,” he assured me earnestly as he laced our fingers together and pulled me away from the wall.

  I glanced down at our joined hands and briefly thought about joking that he should be careful about giving me mixed signals. But I knew my limits. My comedic timing was crappy, and the last thing I wanted was to push him away. I might not love Miles, but I liked him. A lot. And holding his hand while we wandered through town under a sea of rainbow flags on a random Sunday felt special. The way new beginnings sometimes did.

  Chapter 9

  In the following month, we fell into our new roles as roomies with surprising ease. It helped that we were both insanely busy at work. I didn’t get home some nights until eight or nine o’clock. Usually Miles was there before me, curled up in a corner of the sofa, listening to music while simultaneously watching reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. We’d chat briefly about our respective days and then retire to our own rooms. I didn’t argue or try to coerce him to sleep with me. I respected his need for space. And it wasn’t like we didn’t have sex. We did. Often.

  He was always up for a spontaneous blowjob or hand job. And it wasn’t unusual for a heavy make-out session on the sofa to turn into naked writhing with him begging me to fuck him. Within a three-week period, we’d had sex on almost every surface in my great room. I wanted to laugh at his inventive streak, but I was too strung out to suggest going back to one of our rooms. And when he bent over a barstool in the kitchen and presented his ass like a gift, the only thing on my mind was getting a condom on my dick as fast as possible.

  The weekends were another story. I worked most Saturdays, either showing houses or catching up on paperwork. But the second I got home, he was mine. He’d usually ask what my plans were in the morning, and when I’d shrug he’d tell me not to worry, because he had the best ideas lined up. Adventures with Miles could mean anything. Usually they had to do with a quest of some sort. Where to find the best cup of coffee or who served the freshest bread. It always seemed to flow organically. He’d ask if I liked egg rolls and then whisk me to four different Chinese restaurants to collect samples. It wasn’t always food. He had a thing for hand lotions and shoes too. Not to purchase…just to try.

  There was an almost manic edge to these adventures. Like the purpose and meaning of life might be found in the perfect latte. I figured the constant motion was his way of silencing the voices in his head. It was unconventional but fun. I didn’t ask many questions. I just went with the flow and invariably went to bed with a big-ass grin on my face thinking about something quirky he’d done or said on our latest “Miles adventure.” Then I’d count down the days until the next Saturday when I had him all to myself again.

  This morning, after we’d exchanged blowjobs in the shower, he’d asked what I was doing that night.

  “It’s Friday,” I said.

  “I know what day it is, silly.” He chuckled. “I just had a brilliant idea, and I don’t want to wait till tomorrow to make it happen. I’ll give you coordinates later. If you can make it, fabulous. If not, I’ll handle it on my own.”

  “Mmm. Sounds mysterious.” I licked the moisture from his neck then switched places with him under the shower spray. “Give me a hint.”

  “Nope. You’ll see when you get there.”

  “Where?”

  “Nice try.” He smacked my ass then stepped out of the shower. “I’ll text you.”

  Yeah, I was intrigued.

  And for the first time since college, I was excited about a Friday night. In fact, I was antsy as hell. I spent most of that afternoon checking my phone for texts from Miles and gauging how much longer I had to stay at the office. I snuck a quick peek at my cell then flipped it upside down on my desk. Two hours and s
eventeen minutes.

  “Am I boring you?” Talia asked in a no-nonsense parental tone.

  I rolled my eyes and then nodded. “Yes, you are. I didn’t hear a word you said.”

  She scoffed then crossed her legs and gestured toward my closed door. “The artist is going to be here in fifteen minutes. I’ve put off the grand introduction for a month, but it’s time to meet the man your father thinks you’ve been seeing.”

  “I didn’t tell you to lie to my dad,” I admonished.

  “It was easier that way, and it got him off both our backs for a few weeks. If Uncle Andreas realized how busy we are, he’d think twice about encouraging you to have a social life.”

  “He’s encouraging me to make alliances he approves of, Tal. Not to have fun.”

  Talia inclined her head in agreement then rolled one of the beads on her oversized necklace. “You know deep down he means well. Someday you’re going to have to remind him it’s your life.”

  “You think I haven’t tried?” I huffed humorlessly.

  “Not hard enough. But you will when the time is right and—” She paused to glower at me and pointed at my phone. “Who am I competing with for your attention?”

  “No one,” I lied, slipping my cell into my suit coat pocket before she snatched it off my desk.

  “I bet it’s the roommate. How is that going?”

  “Very well, thanks,” I replied with a tight-lipped smile. I loved my cousin, but I wasn’t sharing Miles with my family. I knew from experience that even the most innocent bits of information could turn against me at a moment’s notice. It was best to keep this to myself. Besides, whatever we were doing wasn’t a forever thing, so there was no point in alerting the Kostas battalion.

  “You’re not going to give me a hint?” she singsonged. “Can I invite him over for dinner?”

  “No. But you can tell me all about Mr. What’s-his-name.”

  “Smith.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Maybe his mom is Greek, but he looks like an all-American guy. Very nice. I know your dad thinks this guy knows you, but he mentioned that he remembered you from your modeling days. Oh yeah, and something about having a life-sized poster of you in his closet back in the day,” she teased.