Page 63 of For Fake's Sake and other stories

Phil’s door is shut, but I slam it open against the wall. Bits of plaster float onto the floor. Crap. Another thing that needs fixing, but not now. Now I’m so pissed off I’ll probably make it worse. Phil glances up and averts his eyes instantly. A flush of red rises from his collar up his neck and over his face.

“Please tell me what the fuck you were doing? Because I’ve had my beautiful, perfect boyfriend crying down the phone to me.” My voice is getting louder and louder until no doubt the whole office can hear me.

“Shit!” He rubs his hand down his face. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that. I just wanted to see him, introduce myself, y’know. Have a little joke about you.”

I stare at him until he looks at me. “Really? So you didn’t question his age or insinuate he was a gold digger? Neither of those sounds very funny to me. And you did this in front of his co-workers, his manager, and all the fucking customers. What the fuck did you think you were doing?” I face the door, breathing deeply to control my anger. When I turn back, my desire to punch him has settled to just below the surface. “Well?”

“I fucked up. I’m sorry. I’ll go back and apologise to Noah.”

“You’ll go nowhere near him. Leave him alone. He has enough on his plate to deal with without you upsetting him again. You’ve done enough.” I walk out of the office without looking back, ignoring him when he calls my name. I’ve got to get back to Noah now.

He told me he was fine and not to mess up my day, but I can’t leave him feeling fragile. This time when I walk into the store, I see him immediately. “Hey, sweetheart, are you feeling better?”

“Everett, I told you I was okay. I can’t keep having my day interrupted. My manager is already watching me.” He looks over his shoulder at the line of tills at the side of the store. “I’ll call you tonight.” His smile is weak and doesn’t reach his eyes. Has Phil done more damage than I thought? Because from where I’m standing, Noah is giving me the brush-off. It doesn’t look like he means it.

“I’ll be here when you finish,” I say, my tone firm.

He shakes his head. “Not tonight. I’m going out with Chloe and Jess.”

This is new. We’d already arranged to see each other. We’re supposed to be going to the cinema. “When were you going to cancel on me?”

He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms, showing me a different side to him, a determined side. “Maybe you should check your phone. Look, Everett, I’ve had a shit day and want to forget about it with my friends. We can get together another night.”

“You’re going to brush me off because of my dickhead brother. That’s not fair, Noah, and you know it.” I take his hand. “Please don’t do this. Please.”

He closes his eyes, his lip trembling. “Okay, but I don’t want to go to the cinema, and I don’t want to talk about today.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Shall I pick you up from home?”

He nods and squeezes my hand. “See you later.”

I go back to work and spend the remainder of the day laying bricks. Repetitive work but satisfying. I can still lay as many as the full-time brickies, something I doubt Phil can do anymore. Thinking of him ticks me off again. I can’t believe he said those things or even that he went to where Noah works in the first place. Why was he so desperate to meet him? He could’ve done it so differently. We could’ve all gone out for dinner, but I doubt Noah is eager to do that now. Which brings me to tonight and what we could do together. Going somewhere he feels comfortable would be a good start, so BAR 28 first, then maybe somewhere to eat. Nothing fancy, the Chinese or the Turkish restaurant always have good food.

As I pull up onto my driveway, the site of my self-built home doesn’t fill me with as much happiness as it usually does. It looks like an empty shell, and I know that when I get inside, it will feel it too. What happened today, Phil’s cruel questions to Noah, has made me realise I don’t—no, I can’t—wait any longer to take Noah to my bed. He’s the one for me, my forever, but by waiting, by taking it slow and wanting our relationship to grow into love, I have caused him to doubt me as much as himself. The talk we had on our way to the pub has spurred me on to prove to him that I want him, want us to make love, not simply fuck.

I want him to be here with me, to share the place I built not just for me but for him as well. Although I didn’t know it at the time, I designed my house to share it with someone special, and that someone special is Noah. This weekend, I’ll ask him tocome here on Friday. With that idea in mind, I get out of my car and go inside. I need to shower and change for my date.

The hot water cascades down on my head and neck, washing away the dust and grime from a day on the building site. As I soap my body, my thoughts are—as usual—on Noah, the sweet taste of his mouth, the sounds he makes when I deepen the kiss. Today it’s only my imagination, the assumed image of his lithe body, sprawled naked on my bed, that has my dick rising, throbbing at the thought of his perfect, round arse that spread wide for me. I stroke my aching erection, and judging by the pre-cum at the tip, it isn’t going to take me long. In my mind, I’m pushing inside his tight hole. I tighten my fist as I press through the taut ring of muscles daring me to breach him.

Fuck! I pump faster, my head tipped back, ignoring the water pouring down my face, neck, and body. My balls draw up painfully tight as they ready themselves to make my cum burst free. It coats my hand and drips to the floor. I pant through the ecstasy of a mind-blowing orgasm. It takes me a moment to get my blurred vision to clear, my breathing to become steady again, and my heart rate down.

Jesus, how am I going to manage when it’s the real thing?

Everett has been different this week. Ever since his A-hole of a brother came in, it’s like he’s shifted, and everything has become more. More intense, more hungry for me. So much so that after every date, he kisses me so thoroughly I nearly come in my underwear. And I’ve felt he has an equally hard dick, but still, he says goodnight every time. Tonight is going to be so much more from me too. He has finally invited me to his house, so I think—hope—this is it. Tonight’s the night.

Another thing that’s bugging me is my mum. She’s not poorly, shows no sign of a relapse, but she’s up to something. There’s been lots of quickly ended phone calls, and she keeps going through cupboards and collects things that don’t make sense. Every time I ask her, she fobs me off with silly answers. She’s just tidying up, or we have so much accumulated junk.

When I told her I was going to Everett’s, she embraced the idea with way more enthusiasm than needed. She even advised me to pack an overnight bag, which bordered a little on the ick side.

“What do you mean you’re not telling?” Jess, who’s been following me around the shop, doing everything but her job, looks one step away from stamping her foot. “You’ve had loads of dates with him now. Something must have happened. Haveyou been to his house yet? I bet it’s nice, what with him being all rich and everything.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not about his money. You know I’m not like that, but if you must know, I’m going to his place tonight.”

She bounces on her toes, her eyes lighting up. “Ooh, it’s definitely on for tonight. Make sure you do all your preparations and pack a box of condoms and lube.”

Why have I ever told her about gay romance books? She now thinks she’s an expert on gay sex. “I have done this before, you know that, right?”

“I know, but you’ve never liked any of them as much as you like Everett.” She’s right. He is special. Apart from being as hot as the devil, he’s kind and funny and caring. I count down the hours until I see him again. Which is only a couple of hours away.

---