“Not my boyfriend.” Walker slid open his closet door. Lines of starched shirts and pressed pants greeted him. Cameron’s closet was a discount rack at an outlet store by comparison.
“What do you do?” Cameron asked. “Lawyer?”
“I’m a media planner.”
“Cool.”
“Do you know what that is?”
“Nope.”
“I help figure out how to sell shampoo.” The man searched for the right clothing combination to wear. “Media is any type of advertising you pay for, as opposed to public relations which is media that is free.”
“Oh, so you make the ads.”
“No,” Walker seemed to say with a sigh. “We don’t make the ads. We just decide where to place them to best reach consumers.”
“Do you have to wear a suit?”
“No, thankfully. No jeans, though.”
“Well, that sucks. I’d go with the dark green.” Cameron pointed to the pair of pants next to the regular khakis Walker had chosen. He took an extra beat to admire Walker’s ass in those boxer briefs. “It’ll match the shirt you picked out better.”
“Thanks.” Walker took his advice and slid the closet door shut. Cameron noticed just how much space was between them.
“Are you nervous?” Cameron asked him through the mirrored door.
Walker stopped buttoning up his shirt. “I’m not really sure how this goes. It’s been a while since I…”
“Played Naked Twister?”
Walker blushed and pulled out a tie from another drawer in his dresser. There was something hot about watching Walker knot his tie. It was a few seconds of intense focus and precise moves.
“I had fun,” Cameron said. “From what I can remember.”
Walker sat on the edge of the bed. “I did, too.”
He rubbed Cameron’s back, gently but with a firm hand, melting Cameron like butter on a hot skillet. Cameron picked up the fresh scent of shaving cream, and dragged a hand across Walker’s freshly shaved neck. Walker gave him a direct look in the eye that broke through his cool for a split-second. A tiny alarm went off somewhere in Cameron’s head.
“I should probably get dressed.” He leaned back, out of Walker’s reach. He slipped out of bed, wrapping himself with Walker’s comforter. “And I’m sure you have to be at work soon.”
“Yeah.” Walker’s shoulders drooped with what Cameron thought was the sting of rejection.Unintentional rejection, he thought. He jogged into the hall and brought in Cameron’s heap of clothes.
“Thanks.”
He threw on his clothes and took the precious seconds he had left to give himself a brief tour of Walker’s condo. He marveled at the real furniture. Cameron figured none of it was secondhand or bought off Craigslist. Walker went into actual stores and purchased these items. Cameron’s apartment had a garage sale décor, which is how he and Henry acquired most of their furniture.
Real art hung on the walls. A real ficus sat in the living room.
“Do you want anything to eat?” Walker called out from the kitchen, which had real stainless steel appliances. Including a dishwasher!
“No, I’m fine.” Cameron shrugged it off. He ranked this hangover a six on his richter scale.
“Are you working this morning?”
“Nope.” Cameron became distracted by the closed door at the end of the hall.
“I can drive you back to your apartment.”
