Me: I thought we agreed things between us were casual.
Hendrix: We did.
Me: Then why are you talking to me with such formality?
Hendrix: Our relationship is transactional. I was thanking you for your services.
Me: You’re killing me.
Me: How are you feeling today?
Hendrix: I’m good. What about you?
Me: I’m good.
I wasn’t good. I was far from good. I was delusional and cum-drunk, and that was ridiculous of me and I would never admit it. I didn’t know what else to say to him so I didn’t say anything, and he clearly had no idea how to navigate this either, so…
“There’s the look again,” Grayson said, wagging a finger at me.
“The cereal look?”
“The shit look.”
I turned my phone upside down and shoved it to the center of the table with a glare. “No one pissed in my anything.”
“Is that the problem?” He laughed and headed back past me, down the hallway and into his bedroom. Grayson wasn’t the kind to leave a conversation open-ended, but he was the kind to put it on pause. I waited for him to get dressed and re-appear, which he did, now a black leather button-up shirt covering the top half of his body, his black motorcycle boots in hand.
“I fucked the neighbor.”
Grayson sat down on the couch and I followed him into the living room, collapsing next to him with a sigh.
“I figured as much when you didn’t come back home Friday night.”
“I did come back home.”
“Sure, on Saturday morning.”
“I came back home,” I grumbled.
“Does he have you feeling your feelings, Miles?” he teased, stomping his left foot into his boot with a grin.
“Yes.” I dropped my head back and scrubbed my hands down my face. I wasn’t going to lie to my best friend about it. Even if I did, he’d have seen right through me anyway.
“You like him?” He slid into his other boot, tying the laces with the nimble quickness befitting only the best riggers.
“Yes,” I said again.
“That’s not like you.”
“I know.” I rolled my head to the side and gave him a quick look. “Where are you going tonight?”
“That club I told you about—Rapture. Did you want to come along? You can fuck the neighbor out of your system.”
“As nice as that sounds, it’s impossible.”
He laughed, standing up and giving his legs a good shake. Leather pants were the worst invention of all time, and I had no idea why Grayson loved wearing his so fucking much.
“You haven’t even tried,” he teased, smacking the back of my head. “I’m sure there’s at least one man there up for the challenge.”
