* * *
Oy,Monday morning has comewaytoo quickly. As I make my giant travel mug of coffee for the day, I chuckle, remembering Bram’s insistence that I get enough water.
Coffee counts, right?
My need for caffeine is his fault, anyway. We’d gone to Rebel Sky for Sunday dinner, and Bram had insisted on picking me up while Ant and Levy went with Charlie and Justin. The ride hadn’t taken long, but he’d called me Ignacio with that glint in his eyes as his hands kept finding excuses to touch me—correcting my posture, complimenting the buttons on my vest, removing a piece of lint from my jeans, high up on my inner thigh.
Before I could process any of that, Trip had greeted us at the door with the biggest hug and a heartfelt apology for excluding us. The meal had been Desi’s apparently famous enchiladas, which were fantastic.
By the end of the evening, I was wearing a pair of borrowed swim trunks and was judging the massive cannon ball contest between Ant and Anders—who, by the way, is as crazy as everyone says. We’d scored them on a scale of one through five based on the artistry and size of the splash. They’d been neck and neck until Anders lost his shorts and was immediately crowned the winner.
Bram had driven me home while fussing with my waterlogged hair and complimenting my ability to charm everyone I meet. Just as he’d pulled up to my trailer, he swiped his thumb over my bottom lip, claiming I had a smidge of whipped cream on the delicate skin.
Never mind that my dessert had been in the to-go box Desi gave me, still untouched.
“You were such a good boy tonight,” he’d purred, his thumb still playing with my lip before drawing away and breaking eye contact to look out the windshield. “Sleep well, Ignacio.”
I’d taken the hint and exited the truck, but I’d barely gotten in the door before I had my cock out, making a break for my tiny bathroom. I’d only had to imagine kneeling at his feet before blowing my load into the sink thirty seconds later.
Even when I managed to sleep through the geriatric orgy playing out across the parking lot, I’d wake every few hours to tented sheets and my corrupted imagination. I’m chafed as fuck this morning, and yet…zero regrets.
I remember Ant telling me the therapy brothers are booked out weeks in advance but always make room for emergency clients. As I consider the benefits of a mental health crisis, I shove a piece of toast in my mouth and head for the door.
A piece of toast does not a healthy breakfast make, Ignacio.
Whatever. I need to get this day going. With the inadequate toast hanging out of my mouth and the coffee clipped to my belt, I open the front door, stopping when something heavy tumbles down the light aluminum steps.
Carefully pushing the door open the rest of the way, I find a new pair of boots in my size at the bottom of the steps.
Laughing, I pick them up, noticing there’s a water bottle off to the side, and it’s the kind with notes every few ounces.
Drink this amount by NINE.
Drink this amount by NOON.
Drink this amount by THREE.
Complete the bottle by FIVE.
“Motherfucker,” I say, chuckling.
There’s a sticky note taped to the bottle.
Dear Ignacio,
The water bottle will help you to comply with your hydration goals, and the boots are a gift to celebrate how far you’ve come.
Dr. Barlowe
PS You’ve really done a nice job with your home.
I’m amused and pleased that he’s continuing our dynamic here on the outside, and I wonder if he waited till I went inside last night or if he brought them over this morning. I don’t know his intentions or if he even knows what he’s doing, but I like it. A little too much, probably.
I’d thrived under his careful attention while in jail. It had never come across as picky or judgmental, but rather a desire to make things right for me. More specifically, I thinkhehad wanted to be the one to make things right for me. And I don’t think he acts that way around anyone else.
At least, I hope he doesn’t.
I reverse into my pretty trailer, switch out my boots, and fill my new water bottle. Both are top quality, which he knows I appreciate. I don’t own a lot, but what I do own is as nice as I can afford or make for myself. He knew that the imperfect state of my boots, however functional, would bother me.
