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I’ve let Fynn suck me off, and I’ve fucked him a few times at the club, my eyes closed, and head filled with visions of TJ. Fynn knows it. Knows I’m not thinking about him. Hasn’t questioned it. We’ve always had a friend with benefits relationship. Our sex is fun. It feels good, but it’s transactional. Fynn needs me to try things out before he does them with members or trains any of the workers at the club.
I need him for a release. I don’t get mowed down by emotions and feelings and yearnings. We have sex. It feels good. It’s enough for me. More than enough. And Fynn has no desire for a relationship with anyone either.
I stroke my fingers along TJ’s suit. The vision of him in it fills my head as if it was yesterday. Standing there off stage. Proud of himself for pulling off the surprise. Hoping the big gesture moment would land him in my bed.
Honestly, I’m not sure I would have been able to resist him that night had it not been for his panic attack. Had the night not taken such a dramatic turn. I wonder sometimes where we would be if we had had sex that night. Would we be friends? Would we be together? My gut tells me no. Everything happens for a reason. Things happen the way they are supposed to. They unfold in the order they are supposed to. I consider him a wonderful friend now. I’ve also come to learn he doesn’t have many of those. Not close ones. Not ones who have seen him bottom out and helped him climb safely back up.
His infectious personality hides so much pain. Standing side by side and looking at our backgrounds…I’m the one. I’m the one people would assume had the rough life. Sympathies would lean toward me. I’m the brown kid with the accent. I’m the orphan whose alcoholic father OD’d and whose mother was gunned down during a drug dispute. Then there is the fact that my absolutely wonderfully adoring adoptive family is as white as it comes and wealthy. Not a simple scenario for a foreign-born black kid in Chicago. And I’m gay. And very good looking.
TJ, the equally handsome American boy athlete. His mother was tragically killed in a car accident, and his father has struggled ever since. He has talent in spades, and he takes care of his father and half-brother. Nobody knows about the abuse at the hands of his father. The suspicions around the death of his mother. Nobody knows how much his father tries to control his life and how much TJ clings to every shred of control he has to take care of his half-brother. That anger on the ice, it keeps him from being angry off of it. The constant fooling around and sexual appetite, it’s his escape. The panic attacks, the anxiety…I’m the only one who knows. He hides behind the infectious smile and bravado and the appearance of confidence he does not have.
I make him feel better. He is relaxed with me. When did I become a fixer? I don’t want to fix him. He doesn’t need fixing. He just needs someone to understand and care and be there. Someone to tell him everything is okay. He is okay. He’s perfect. Just like the exquisite fabric of this suit. This suit made to fit his gorgeous, perfectly honed muscular body like a glove.
I pluck it off the rack and place it in the suit bag, along with my shoes and makeup kit, to take to the concert hall with me.
“Keep your hands off of him,” I seethe, hoping TJ didn’t hear.
Fynn raises an eyebrow and smirks at me. It’s not that I don’t trust him…Fynn can be very persuasive and intoxicating and, before you know it, you’ve fallen off a cliff with him.
TJ cocks his head, and I am offered yet another smirk. My two men.
“Go,” Fynn says, placing a hand on my back and shoving me out the door. “We’ll see you in a few hours.”
“I can handle him,” TJ growls and glances at Fynn. But the growl only serves to stir Fynn up.
“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” I say. “Behave,” I snap and point a finger at Fynn.
They both laugh. I want to kiss TJ goodbye. I want to lick the stubble along that square jaw. Dammit. He smiles at me, and I can see the questions in his eyes. Where is this coming from? Do I suddenly want more than friendship? Will it ruin what we have if we go there? And why the hell is this man capable of making me feel things nobody else ever has?
TJ strolls to me, squares me in front of him, taking my hands in his. My breath hitches. He shakes my hands out, forcing my arms to wiggle like ribbons.
“Deep breaths,” he whispers, his face so close to mine. “Tonight is going to be perfect.”
I swallow hard and take the deep breaths he commands. It already is, I think.
“Thank you,” I whisper back. I squeeze his hands and quickly let go to keep myself from leaning in for a kiss.
Chapter eighteen
“Why is he so concerned about us being alone together?”
Fynn grins a bit and waggles his brows, giving me a devilish look.
“He isn’t really, I don’t think. I’ll chalk it up to nerves. Tonight matters a lot.”
“I know.”
“You matter a lot. That you are here matters more than I suspect you realize.”
I do realize. I think. Something happened just now at the door. I thought he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me. Is Fynn the reason he didn’t?
“What are you to him?”
“A friend.”
“Maybe the better question is, what is he to you?”
Fynn smiles. “A friend.”
