Most shocking of all, there was no television.Or at least he’d thought so, until he’d carefully opened what looked like an armoire in the living room—if Sam had an armoire, at a minimum the hinges would squeak—and found a small set.
It had all felt a little bit like visiting an alien landscape, not because Sam’s place was so different (which it was), but because Ian didn’t seem like the kind of guy who cared about stuff like this.Truthfully, Sam had expected an array of vibrating recliners sporting built-in cup holders facing a big-screen TV and a fridge full of nothing but beer.He thought Ian would be the type of guy who bought pans at the dollar store and threw them away when they got too dirty to use.It worked for him, after all.
Instead, it was the type of place Sam would like to become accustomed to.He could live here; wouldloveto be surrounded by the comfortable but attractive tidiness of it all.He’d live that way now if he could, he just seemed to lack any decorative skill or even an iota of talent for organization.Or cleanliness.Yet another stereotypical benefit of being gay Sam seemed to have been shorted on.
A toilet flushed, water ran, and Sam quickly rolled over.He felt the door to the bathroom open with a rush of air across his arm.He did his best to fake sleep—something he’d always sucked at—and listened to Ian creep into the room, across the wood and rugs.
Ian leaned over him in bed, nearly jolting Sam into opening his eyes.He didn’t, though.Should he pretend to wake up now?
“Sam?”Ian whispered.
“Mmm?”Half-consciousness seemed like a good compromise.
“I have to go.Someone’s picking me up for a rugby game.”
Sam opened his eyes and turned to look into Ian’s face a few inches above his.He’d shaved, and Sam wanted to rub his cheek against Ian’s smooth jaw, but he didn’t.After a few seconds, he remembered to blink sleepily, like he’d just awakened.Oops.
Ian smiled at him.“You don’t have to get up.”He gripped Sam’s chin between his fingers and leaned down to kiss him quickly, and again, as if once wasn’t quite enough.“I’m leaving you a key so you can lock the door behind you when you go.”
Ian wanted him to leave?
Okay, sheesh, that was stupid.Even if he ...well, he wanted to stay, but he shouldn’t because he had a lot to do and—
Wait.Ian was giving him a key?Sam’s mouth went dry.What did that mean?
“You probably have a lot to do today, huh?”Ian sat back on the bed, letting go of Sam’s chin and propping himself up on one arm.
“Yeah.”Sam nodded vigorously.“I have homework and a class to prepare for and you know.Housework and stuff.”
Ian looked like he had to stifle a smile.Sam had a feeling he wasn’t buying the housework excuse.“You teach?”he asked.
Sam nodded some more.“Yeah.I teach freshman and sophomore undergrads hownotto write.”
Ian scrunched his brow.“How do you teach someone not to do something?”
“Mostly by telling them the way they did it is wrong.”
“So positive reinforcement isn’t a teaching method you use a lot?”
“It’s not from lack of trying,” Sam said.
Ian opened his mouth, but a knock on the front door cut him off.“Hell, there’s my ride.”He didn’t move.“Stay in bed awhile, the key is on the table next to the front door.”
“How will I get it back to you?”Sam held his breath.
“Next time you come over,” Ian said.The doorbell rang.“’Kay, kiddo, gotta go.Um, I took your number off your cell and programmed mine into it,” he added, standing up and grabbing something off his dresser.
Sneaky of him, butsothrilling.“’Kay.”Sam smiled happily, since Ian wasn’t looking.Then Ian turned and caught him smiling.Damn it.
Ian smiled back.“Maybe we can, uh, hook up next weekend?”Sam nodded, trying to tamp down his eagerness.“Okay, I’ll call you during the week,” Ian said, walking backward out of the room.A muffled voice was shouting his name through the front door.“Can you strip the sheets off the bed before you go?”
“Yeah.Bye.”Sam gave up trying not to smile.Ian winked at him and walked out.Sam heard a complaining voice when Ian opened the front door, then Ian’s answer—short and curt, the way he usually sounded.
“Why do we always take your car?”Ian asked on the way to Tierney’s parking spot.He knew asking wasn’t going to change shit, but he thought he would spread some of his annoyance around.He wasn’t annoyed at taking Tierney’s damn car again so much as annoyed at Tierney, period.For breathing.For knocking on his damn door when Ian had a warm, naked guy in his bed.
Warm, naked Sam.Ian nearly tripped over his own feet.
Tierney saved him from any potential moments of introspection, thank fuck.“Dude, my car’s hawt,” he answered with a leer for his “baby,” stroking the hood as they reached his stupid car.“Chicks dig it.”
