“Does he play?” Vann asks, and my head bobs up involuntarily. He’s eyeing me with a wicked smile.
Jess shakes her head. “I’m not at liberty to say. What my customers do in their private lives is their own business.”
But that seems to be enough of an answer for Vann.
“Don’t give me that ‘can neither confirm nor deny’ crap. If he weren’t kinky, you’d say no. See Charlie?” He spreads his hands wide. “He’s perfect for you.”
“What happened to running the fuck away?”
“I changed my mind.”
I glare at them both. Athena’s chewing on something, and when I finally pry it from between her teeth, it’s a mangled coffee stir stick.
“None of you are any help,” I say.
Vann and Jess both laugh. I pull my laptop out, and Jess’s laughter fades. “Out here?”
“I’m just editing what I’ve already written.” I’ve got enough sense to keep the videos at home.
My love life apparently sorted, Jess and Vann go back inside. Athena and Otter go back to sleep. I try to get some work done. But there’s an unanswered text on my phone that I can’t shake. I’m not one of those people with thirty thousand unread messages in their inbox. I can’t stand that little red dot of anxiety. But even though I’ve cleared the notification on Mason’s text, it nags at me.
It’s just dog training. Despite what Vann and Jess may think, that’s all he’s offering and all I’m interested in. Even if Athena is currently snoozing contentedly at my feet, this truce can only be temporary. I brought her today because I know, despite my best efforts, she’d find a way to destroy something new if I left her at home.
I should have let Mason come to my house when that offer was still on the table.
Though maybe it’s back.
Despite my misgivings, I reply to the text before my nerve can fail me.
Sounds good. I work freelance, so my schedule is flexible. Let me know what works for you.
I send a picture of Athena, still sleeping, just to prove she’s not a terror all the time, and tell myself to get to work. Today’s write-up is an intro to a twink gangbang, which are always tough. There are only so many synonyms forfuck, and with eight guys in the scene, I’ve used most of them at one point or another when I put it together last week. Today I’m double-checking that it’spoundin paragraph one anddestroysin paragraph two, along with a general proofread. I have a habit of overusing commas that the agency doesn’t like.
My coffee is nearly empty when I allow myself to check my phone. No reply. I try not to be disappointed.
Until I see the missed call and the voicemail.
I can’t remember the last time I listened to a voicemail.
“Charlie, it’s Mason. I got your text and figured it was easier to talk. Give me a call.”
It’s not easier to talk. If he’d texted, we could be sorting out the details right now. Instead, my heart is pounding as I dial his number, in part because calling someone always makes me anxious, and in part because I can’t decide if I want him to answer or not.
“Hello?”
That voice is unmistakable, even though I can count the amount of time we’ve spoken in minutes.
“Hi, Mason, it’s Charlie.”
“Call Me Charlie.” He sounds like he’s smiling.
“Uh. Hi.” I can’t help smiling back, pleased and gratified that he sounds more at ease than he did the last time we spoke. “So you couldn’t stay away from me, huh?”
Jeez, what is with me and the terrible one-liners when it comes to this guy?
But today, instead of ignoring my terrible attempts at humor, he laughs softly, and my whole day suddenly feels better.
“Something like that.”
