“No. Until I realized that I would never forgive myself if you gave up on me.” When he shuts his eyes, tears spill onto his cheeks. “You saw something in me I didn’t —I don’t, Ican’t—see in myself. But sometimes when I look at you, I think I can see the reflection of how you see me in your eyes.”
Goddammit. I thought I had a handle on myself, but suddenly I’m choked up again. “Babydoll, you’re so good toeverybody else. It fuckingkillsme that you don’t save any of that sweetness for yourself. I’m sorry I overstepped, but I swear to God, all I was trying to do was get you to see what a beautiful person you are, and believe that you’re worthy of all the love and respect in the world.”
Errol shakes his head, a faint, strained smile creeping onto his lips. “I don’t think it works like that, though. You know, with the…whaddaya-call-em.”
“Affirmations.” I sigh. “I’m sorry. I thought it might help if you said them.”
His face pulls into a grimace, like even the word gives him discomfort. “I can’t.” He shakes his head. “I don’t believe it. I’m not going to believe it.”
My heart leaps into my throat. “That’s OK,” I say quickly. “I’d be really happy if you justsaidthem.”
“What the hell good would that do?”
“You know how you told me before that when you started working at Finn’s, you sort of put on this other self like the way you’d button up a shirt? And after a while, it started to feel less like a role you were playing and more likeyou?”
He nods, reluctantly. I take his hand. “I’m hoping if you do this enough times, you won’t have to look atmeto see a reflection of who you are. I know it might be a long ways off,baby, but I’m hoping that one day, you’ll be able to see what a wonderful man you are just by looking in the mirror.”
The next morning, I’m a little afraid that things are going to be awkward between Errol and I. I’m pondering what to say if he brings it up when I realize: The notebook isn’t on the dresser. Stepping into the hallway, I hear a low murmuringfrom behind the closed bathroom door. I swallow down a lump of emotion in my throat at the thought of Errol reading those affirmations to his reflection.
52
AARYN
Saturday morning dawns bright and breezy. It seems like a good omen for the fundraiser event. Errol yawns and scrubs a hand over his eyes when he comes into the bedroom after his shower, a towel wrapped around his waist.
“What time did you get in last night?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I didn’t even look, but the birds were already chirping.”
I feel guilty. “Do you want me to come with you this morning to help out?”
When he lets out ahmmand gnaws his lower lip in thought, I can’t help myself. I tug the towel off him as I pull his naked body against mine, sliding my hands down to palm his ass. “Which panties are you wearing today? Going with the lucky ones?”
The amber flecks in Errol’s eyes glow. “Guess I ought to, huh? And if you don’t mind coming with me, I’m sure I can find some way to put you to work. I think youdostill owe me for the time you’ve lived here.” He leans in and traces a line up the side of my neck with his tongue. “You’ve run up quite a tab, Stud,” he says in my ear. The way his voice drops at the end sends a shiverdown my spine. I release him reluctantly and try to focus on the busy day ahead.
In the parking lot behind Finn’s a couple hours later, I blow out a hard sigh and brush damp hair off my forehead. So far, I’ve helped Errol unload an unfathomable amount of ice and nestle it into a bank of coolers, and assembled folding tables into a giant U around the barbecue grills. My arms already ache. Errol hasn’t so much as let out a grunt or broken a sweat. I feel like a wimp.
As if he could hear my mental griping, he glances up. “How’re you holding up?”
“I’m good! What’s next?” I say with forced enthusiasm.
Errol raises an eyebrow and smirks. Dammit. This is definitely a drawback of dating somebody who knows all your mannerisms and can read you like a book. “Would you rather go inside and organize all of the utensils?” he asks. “Everything’s on top of the bar; I just haven’t gotten to it yet.”
My shoulders slump with relief. “Yeah, I’ll tackle that.” I hover in the doorway for a minute, watching Errol’s shirt grow tight across his shoulders as he picks up one of those coolers, now full of ice, and walks it underneath the tent two of AJ’s biker buddies just assembled. He gives them both a fist bump and says something I’m too far away to hear that makes them laugh.
My dick stirs in my pants. Errol lets me pretend to be the boss, but in reality, he nails conventional masculinity way better than me. Between the two of us, he’s the one who can lift heavy shit, fix broken shit and all that. The sense of raw power I get from dominating him is made even hotter by that unspoken truth, by the strength that lies beneath his submission.
Inever would have admitted it to Errol, but initially, I wasn’t holding out a hell of a lot of hope that they’d raise enough money to keep Finn’s out of tax foreclosure. I’d been trying to figure out if there was any wayIcould come up with the money, but there weren’t a lot of good options.
Most of the money I’m going to make from selling my company is still in escrow until all of the regulatory shit is filed and approved, which apparently takes for-fucking-ever. I thought about a loan, but banks aren’t wild about lending to unemployed guys, and almost-millionaire status doesn’t mean shit. When I asked my finance guy if I should liquidate my investment account, he texted me back immediately:DON’T FUCKIN DO IT BRO.
I felt helpless, but right now, standing in the sun with a plastic cup of beer in my hand and a decent rendition of some mid-teens hard rock in my ears, I start to feel optimistic. Maybe the burly biker and the kid with the white hair can pull off the impossible. I smile at the thought.
A hard shove in the middle of my back makes me stumble forward. Half a second later, I flinch as a cold shock cascades from my scalp all the way down my body. I realize I wasn’t just bumped into by somebody holding a drink even before I hear the hooting laugh that summons back a sickening surge of long-buried memories.
Fletcher motherfucking Bundy. One-time star high-school quarterback, full-time dickhead bully — now apparently with a grudge he’s been nursing for more than a decade and a willingness to waste an eight-dollar beer by dumping it over somebody’s head.
But I’m not a scared, skinny kid anymore. What Iamis pissed-off as hell. We’re all goddamn grownups here, for the love of God. Who the fuck does this snickering asshole with his juvenile prank think he is?
