Yes,but I don’t say it out loud. The stupid mark is finally almost fully healed. I’m surprised I didn’t need stitches. That fucker got me good. Not that I blame him. If it were me, I would’ve done the same damn thing—or worse.
Opening the hood to the grill, I flip the steaks, my blood pressure shooting sky high from this topic. “Why the fuck did I invite you over again?”
That only makes Miguel laugh harder. “It is, isn’t it? Oh, man, the boyfriend kicked your ass, didn’t he?”
“He didn’t kick my ass,pendejo. He got pissed after watching us come, then threw a fucking lamp at us, and it missed his boyfriend entirely and hit me.”
Miguel snickers. “Was the sex at least worth the drama?”
Thinking about the question, the answer is there immediately—no, it absolutely was not worth it, but I don’t say that. I don’t know why. Instead, I shrug, bringing the bottle up to my lips. “It was fine. Nothing to write home about, but it was okay. Honestly, I think the hottest part was the pissed off boyfriend watching me finish.”
“How the hell did you finish, knowing you’re being watched by his boyfriend—literally caught in the act? My dick would shrivel the fuck up so fast.”
Chuckling, I say, “Honestly, I think that’s why I even came at all.”
“You’re such a fucking asshole,” he quips, shaking his head.
I mean, I can’t exactly disagree. He’s notwrong.But what I said was the truth, just not for the reason he probably thinks. The boyfriend was hotter than the dude I was buried inside of. He’s someone I would normally go for had I met him out in public instead of in his bedroom… inside his boyfriend. Even one second of his furious gaze on me was enough to have me blow my load. I don’t know if that makes me a masochist or a sadist… maybe both.
The steaks finish up, and I remove them from the grill before we head back inside to fix our plates. The conversation over dinner passes without issue. Miguel tells me about his kid’s softball game, and the newest baby mama drama. Right after we turned eighteen, Miguel got a chick pregnant he was casually sleeping with. At the time, he wanted her to get rid of it, but now Izzy is his entire world.
Miguel leaves after dinner. He only lives down the block. Same with Uncle Benny. Miguel actually rents the little two-bedroom mother-in-law apartment behind Benny’s place, just like he has for years.
Turning on some music, I do the dishes, cleaning up the kitchen before deciding to take a shower. By the time I get out, there’s a message waiting for me on my phone. I roll my eyes when I spot who it’s from, but ignore it for the time being until I get dressed.
Sitting down on the bed, I grab the phone, unlocking it, and pull up the message that’s already grating my nerves.
Nathaniel: Had fun with you. Repeat?
It’s not the first time he’s hit me up since that day. I’ve ignored the other messages, but something feisty inside me has me typing out a response this time.
Me: What about your boyfriend? He joining?
Like he was sitting there with his phone in hand, waiting for my response, the text bubbles pop up immediately.
Nathaniel: Nah. We broke up. Just you and me. ;)
Huffing out a laugh through my nose, I lock the screen, tossing the phone on the bed.Pass.I’m too fucking old for drama like that. Especially from someone as mediocre as Nathaniel.
Raising off the bed, I walk over to my dresser, grabbing the clear red-and-white bong before reaching into the top drawer to pull out the wooden box I keep in there with my weed. I turn the overhead lights off, leaving the red LEDs placed around the room, taking a seat back on my bed as I load a bowl.
The first hit does wonders for taking the stress off my shoulders, and by the time I finish, my mind is nice and fuzzy, thoughts of my busy day and dumbass Grindr hook-ups nowhere to be found.
7
MATEO
“Have you been here before?” I ask Benny, scanning the room filled with what looks to be college kids, but that makes no sense because the nearest college town is no less than forty-five minutes away.
“Once or twice,” he says, glancing around the room too. “It’s under new ownership, though, so figured we oughta check it out.”
This week fucking sucked. Each day seemed to be busier and more grueling than the last. Kicking back and having a beer—or seven—with my uncle is just what I need.
“Why does everybody here look barely old enough to drink?” I ask Benny after the bartender drops off our drinks.
“Probably ’cause they are.”
“How do you know that?”
