Chapter 52
In the mirrored wall, he saw a single tear course down Zack’s tanned cheek before being brusquely swept away. “No,” Zack mumbled. “You want to know how many others there have been? One. A guy named Adam, a college roommate of mine who stopped in one evening to visit me. I’d just been hired and thought I’d be cool, show him around the place, and yes, things got a bit frisky in the elevators. I mean, damn. You know me, I move fast.”
With a grunt, Trevor said, “Tell me about it.”
“It was nothing serious,” Zack assured him. “Adam was an old friend, neither of us were involved with anyone else, and you’ve got to believe me, I don’t fuck around when I’m committed to someone. I don’t. We were just riding the elevator up and down, getting it on, and same thing happened—door opened and my dad’s standing there glaring like the angel of death. He hasn’t ever let me forget it.”
Because Trevor didn’t know what else to say, he tried, “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” Zack whispered. “I can’t date guys from work. They use me to move up in the company, or try to get away with shit because they’re tight with me, and I don’t want to deal with that hassle. But I saw you like three weeks ago? Out front smoking. I agonized over how to approach you—”
“Stop it,” Trevor said. He tried not to smile, but the thought of someone as confident as Zack being afraid of himmade Trevor grin.
Zack insisted, “I’m serious! Should I tell you outright look, my dad’s the CEO but go out with me anyway? Or should I just play it by ear, see what happens? In the end I just said the hell with it and hoped you wouldn’t be too mad when you found out.” In the mirror, their eyes met. “Are you mad?”
The elevator rumbled to a halt and the doors opened. Trevor thought a moment, then realized that he wanted to wake up beside this guy, he wanted to kiss him again, to hold him and discover the myriad of other pleasures they could find together. It didn’t matter who his father was—or wasn’t. With a shake of his head, Trevor promised, “I’m not mad.” He slipped his hand into Zack’s and squeezed. “Did you still want to come home with me?”
Zack squeezed Trevor’s hand in return. “I told you, you’ve got me hooked.”
Trevor led the way to his car. Same here.
THE ENDHooking Up
We arrange to meet at Fairpark Mall because neither of us is ready to bring the other home just yet. It’s been three weeks since we met, an eternity online, but I’m still cautious. I know what he says he looks like, know who he claims to be, but nowadays you never can tell.
I’m waiting outside the food court, leaning back against the wall with my hips thrust forward and the usual scowl on my face. My black clothes must look like a bruise against the whitewashed bricks. Through my dyed bangs, I watch people avoid looking at me as they pass. Most grimace at my goth getup; a brave few laugh. Fuck them.
Damien’s late.
For the hundredth time since I agreed to meet him in person, I wonder if that’s his real name. I wonder what he’ll call me. I go by Broken online, a shortened form of my username brokenboy, but in one e-mail, I confessed that my parents named me Brandon and he hasn’t called me anything else since. How stupid would it sound, asking him to call me by my login name when we’re standing face to face? I shift my weight from one foot to the other and hope there won’t be much talk between us once he finally shows up. We can talk online, through IMs or blog comments. I’m under the impression here that we’re getting together for so much more.
Supposedly he drives a black car—I’ve seen pics of it on his page. But now that I’m looking for it, every car circling the mall seems to be black. What if he’s just cruising the lot, checking me out? I run a self-conscious hand through my spiked hair and glare at the world around me in general. What if he’s watching me right this minute? Or if he’s already driven by, didn’t like what he saw, and left me hanging? I’ll go home and log online just to find some lame excuse in my inbox: Sorry dude, something suddenly came up. I pick at the hem of my tight black t-shirt, tug it down to meet the waistband of my black jeans, smooth it across my stomach and feel the heat of the morning sun where it’s warmed the fabric. I’m surprised to find how damn nervous I am here. I’ve done this before, met guys online and scheduled to hook up with them in real life, but Damien’s the first one I’ve really felt anything for, if I’m being honest. He’s the first person I’ve ever connected with and it fucking scaresme, the way he’s managed to slip into my everyday existence in such a short span of time. If he bails on me today … if he doesn’t even bother to come…
A familiar black Camaro turns at the light and zooms through the lot, heading straight for me. As it nears, I recognize the face behind the wheel as the one on Damien’s webcam—so he really ishot as shit. Narrow jaw, chiseled cheekbones, dark eyes like ink pooled in the hollows of his face. Long black hair, dyed like mine I’m sure, wispy against his pale skin. When he sees me staring, he flashes a roguish grin that seems to shake my world and I swear the car lunges forward with a sudden burst of speed. At the last possible second, Damien turns the wheel and eases to a stop at the curb in front of me. Then he cuts the engine and steps out before I can push away from the wall. With quick strides he comes at me, a commanding look in his eyes that makes my dick take notice. I’m just about to say something stupid like, “Hey Damien,” when he steps up beside me and leans against my arm. The chill of air conditioning lingers around him, making him seem impossibly cool on such a hot day, but when he touches my bare midriff with black-tipped fingers, my flesh burns beneath his. He’s a few inches taller than me and glowers as if trying to tattoo me onto his brain. When I start to speak, he covers my lips with his in a silencing kiss.