Will:Peanut. talk to me.
Chapter Fourteen
SHANNON
Eleven months ago
“What’ll it be?”Riley asked.
His shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows and his collar was open at the throat, and he seemed truly content tending the makeshift bar in Patrick and Andy’s apartment on Christmas Eve. The glassware was arranged in neat rows, his lemons and limes were beautifully segmented, and all the bottles were lined up like an army of liquor.
“I’d like to shed some brain cells tonight,” I said.
His fingers tapped the bottle tops for a moment. “Who’s getting you home?”
I scowled. “I can get myself home, thank you.”
“Hmm,” he murmured, grabbing the rum. “Sounds like someone isn’t feeling the spirit of the season.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and sank further into my scowl. “Nope,” I said, “not really.”
He continued pouring liquids into the stainless steel container, and asked, “Didn’t want to spend the holiday on the beach?” I looked up from his rhythmic shaking with a frown. “I figured you’d be seeing Captain America since you’ve been spending most holidays with him recently.”
What happened to not seeing anything?
“Be a good boy and stop talking about things above your pay grade,” I said, wincing.
Spending Christmas in Mexico with Will and his parents, Wes, Lauren, and Matt was crazy and out of the question. I wanted Will time. I didn’t want to deal with Lauren’s knowing grins or Matt weirding out, or focusing my energy on not swearing my ass off in front of his parents. And it seemed so sudden and public and official, all the things I wasn’t convinced I wanted right now.
This was scheduled sex. Easy, uncomplicated, not an issue-for-me-to-manage, along-for-the-rollercoaster-ride scheduled sex.
I liked the vague, gelatinous nature of things with Will, mostly. I didn’t love sneaking around and I was nearly at my breaking point when it came to the secrets I was keeping from my brothers—or not keeping, in Riley’s case—and Tom and Lauren, but there was something wonderful about leaving this off the books. It was as if we had something no one else could interfere with. As long as it stayed between us, it was our little insults-and-hate-sex bubble, and that was kind of perfect.
Of course, those feelings changed every time I was alone in my bed, missing him and beyond desperate for a steady stream of affection.
And dick. Let’s not pretend I didn’t appreciate the easy access to dick.
Riley pointed to his nose. “Next time you see him, you should tell him it still feels a little out of whack.”
Glancing around the open floor plan, I noticed Sam helping Andy in the kitchen, Patrick and Nick talking with some of their marathon training group friends near the television. No one was close enough to hear us.
“How are you always creeping on people like this? Do you get a sixth sense for it?”
Riley laughed as he handed me a glass. “I know I’m not the smartest guy in the bunch, but I’m pretty sure I know what I walked in on last summer,” he said. “And you’re a little obvious in your refusal to discuss your recent travels. The lady doth protest and all.”
“Great,” I mumbled around the straw. “What is this?”
“Comfortably Numb,” he said. “And like I said, I never see anything.”
“I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or not,” I said. “I’m getting a distinctly extortionist vibe from you right now.”
Riley wiped his hands on a bar towel, and draped it over his shoulder. “I don’t have the attention span for those shenanigans.” He waved me off, saying, “Go sit in a corner, and be Grinchful. It’s not Christmas without somebody trotting out the melancholy.”
I sagged into a chair near the fireplace, scowl still intact, and sipped my drink. I wasn’t melancholy; I was a masochist.
Will went a little spastic when I told him I wasn’t interested in the yuletide festivities. He seemed to believe we wouldn’t have to explain anything about our relationship to anyone, and I called bullshit on that proposition. There was no way in hell that I could show up in Baja without getting a beat down from Lauren. She’d want the Complete History of Shannon and Will, or at least she’d give me sweet, smiling gazes and say she was happy for us, and that was basically the same thing. It would be a topic of discussion at our regular Saturday lunch outings, athingopen for collective analysis. And later, when Will and I stopped scheduling secret weekends, she’d look at me with sympathetic eyes and promise not to mention him, and I couldn’t deal with being the object of pity and concern.
But more than anything, I wasn’t willing to share him. There was never enough time, and I knew his family got even less, but I still wanted him all for me.
