“Love you too, Ma,” I said to the empty room. I pulled the note off the lid and opened one corner to allow steam to escape. When the food was done heating, I took my bowl into the living room and flopped onto the couch. After being spoiled with Brandon’s cooking at school, it was hard to choke down the bland ground beef, overcooked pasta, and canned soup concentrate Mom called a casserole, but it tasted like home. I struggled through every bite until the bowl was clean, then set it on the end table.
The allure of being able to watch whatever the hell I wanted without anyone saying anything had worn off about an hour later, and I found myself turning on the mind-numbing series Brandon always had playing in the background while he was studying. The drone of the narrator’s voice soothed me, and wasn’t that a fucked up turn of events? I definitely needed to get my hands on a set of keys because I was depressing myself.
“Sweetie, it’s time to go to bed.” I swatted the air and burrowed deeper under the blanket I’d draped over myself at some point. Mom laughed at me. “It’s good to know some things never change. Come on, Matt. You’re going to hurt if you fall asleep on the couch.”
“I’m fine,” I grumbled. Or at least Iwasfine, until Mom felt the need to wake me. And, damn her, I’d been having the best sort of dream, too.
Who got dream cockblocked by their mom?Me, that’s who.
I flipped the blanket off my body and sat up, glaring at Mom for the two point three seconds it took for me to realize I was home and mom was home, and this was areallyshitty way to tell her how much I appreciated her killing herself so I could get an education. “Sorry. I haven’t slept much this past week.”
“It’s okay, sweetie,” she reassured me as she flopped onto the couch next to me before kicking off her shoes and propping her feet on the coffee table. If there was one thing I fucking loved about my mom, it was the fact she wasn’t hell-bent on propriety. I draped my arm over the back of the couch and Mom leaned in, resting her head on my shoulder. This was how it was supposed to be. Ever since I was little, it was me and her against the world. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to take the day off. I’d put in for it, but my boss isn’t letting anyone request off during the holidays.”
“He sounds like a total dick.”
“She, but yes, she’s not the most understanding boss in the world.” Mom let out a frustrated sigh. She dealt with the assholes of the world so she could pay what I’d have had to take out a loan to cover. That made it my fault she was so stressed. “Don’t start with me, Matthew. If I had a problem with it, I’d say something, but there’s an end game here.”
“I could take out loans,” I argued. Even once they took her income into account, I knew I’d be able to take out enough to cover the balance. And I wouldn’t be the only person paying off student loans for decades to come. “I don’t want you putting yourself in an early grave to prove a point.”
“And I don’t want you having to worry when you should be paying attention to your studies.” She pulled her feet onto the couch. It wasn’t weird to me that we’d curl up like this to watch TV. It felt familiar, and I desperately needed that when I was struggling to deal with all the other shit in my life. “Now, tell me what you’ve been up to. Meet any cute boys?”
“Mom, you know I’m trying to stay focused on school,” I grumbled. Every time we talked, she always asked about my love life. A few times, I’d nearly caved, hoping she would lecture me about how dangerous it would be to fall in love with my roommate who was also my oldest friend in the world. But knowing her, she’d only encourage me to pursue him and tell me I was an idiot for not doing so before now.
“And Brandon? How are things with him?” Ugh. She was fishing. I hated when she did that. “Don’t look at me like that. All I’m asking is if he’s as studious as he’s always been, and if you’re driving him insane by leaving your sweaty socks and smelly clothes all over the room.”
As a matter of fact, it had driven him crazy at first, but Ireallyfucking liked it when he called me a good boy if I cleaned up after myself. He didn’t need to know it meant something totally different to me than it did to him. “I’m not that messy, Ma.”
“You are, but it’s part of why we all love you.” She kissed my cheek and then picked up the remote. As she channel surfed, she said, “You can still talk to me about anything, you know that, right?”
“Yes, Mom,” I drawled. “And if there was anything to talk about, I would. But there’s not because my life is boring as fuck. I go to class, come home and study, sleep, and do it all over again.”
“You’re cranky when you’re tired,” she quipped. “Why don’t you head up to bed and we can talk tomorrow when I get home.”
And just like that, I felt like a bag of dicks. She didn’t deserve my sexually frustrated bullshit. It wasn’t her fault I was falling hard for a man who had me so firmly in the friend zone there was a wall along the perimeter. “I’m sorry. It’s been a rough semester but that doesn’t mean I should take it out on you. Find something to watch and I’ll go heat up your dinner.”
I pushed her off my shoulder and stood before she could protest. It wasn’t hard to see where I got my inability to accept help from. She was stubborn and independent, and desperately in need of someone to pamper her. For the next month, that someone was going to be me. Taking care of everything around the house would be one way to keep my mind off of…other things.
* * *
Friday morning—orafternoon, more like—I found a note and Mom’s keys on the counter. She’d gotten a ride to work and suggested I have some fun. When I picked up the note, two twenty-dollar bills fell to the floor.
A good son would remember the guilt he felt over his single mom working multiple jobs to put him through school. The broke college kid whose nuts were going to explode if he didn’t break his involuntary celibacy pocketed that money, promising he’d make it up to her somehow.
To assuage my guilt, I spent the entire afternoon making a list of shit that needed to be fixed while I was home. I’d always been the man of the house, and since my early teens, I’d been the one to tackle minor home repairs. YouTube was a godsend to struggling families and boys who were trying to prove they were men. Unfortunately, it seemed likeeverythinghad broken since the start of the school year and I wasn’t going to have much downtime.
Around seven, I reheated some leftovers and hopped in the shower. It felt all sorts of wrong not calling Brandon to see if he wanted to go out, but it would have been counterintuitive to ask the man I needed to get out of my head to be my wingman. I wouldn’t be able to drink enough to forget the way he looked as he sauntered into our room with nothing but a towel around his waist because I had to drive, but that was okay since I hoped to find someone to help me get off. I didn’t do that shit when I was drunk.
I shivered as I walked across the gravel parking lot. It was cold as hell, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from looking as hot as possible from the moment the door swung open. The bar wasn’t much to look at, but the rainbow flag in the window called to me like a beacon long before I was old enough to go inside. It was the only gay-enough bar without leaving the county, so hopefully I’d find someone who was at least interested enough he wouldn’t kick my ass if I asked him to fuck me stupid over the hood of his truck.
An hour and two beers later, I regretted putting on real pants. There wasno onewho gave my gaydar even the faintest ping. If I wanted to get laid tonight, I’d have to let technology be my wingman. I had a couple hook-up apps on my phone, more out of curiosity than anything else. There had been a few times I’d met up with a guy to swap blowjobs, and one circle jerk I’d been invited to, but beyond that, nothing had piqued my interest enough to get me pull me away from my homework.
Yeah, because it’s your studious nature that’s kept you holed up in the fucking suite.
Fuck it.I pulled out my phone. One way or another, the next time I busted a nut it was going to be with someone’s dick up my ass.
As soon as I remembered my password and logged in, my phone buzzed with a notification. I glanced down at my phone, my eyes going wide when it showed someone inside the bar was logged in. Trying to play it cool, I reached for my beer and tried to see if anyone else was on their phone.
Look the other way.I nearly dropped my phone when the message came through. I was almost scared to look. If I did, he’d know I’d seen the message. Okay, the totally uncool way I played hot potato with my phone had probably already tipped him off, but still… Did I want to do this? Was I really going to have meaningless sex to try and forget about the man I couldn’t afford to lose by doing something like pretending to trip as I got out of bed so I could catch myself with his morning wood down my throat?
