Chapter 14
chapter fourteen
tom
“Hi.” There was so much uncertainty in that one word. Camilo’s voice sounded small, so different from the man I’d had in my bed. The one who’d walked into the restaurant this afternoon.
“Camilo. I’m so sorry about earlier. Please believe me, I wasn’t trying to hide anything about Libertad. It’s just I’m cautious, you know? Even if you hadn’t agreed to go out with me, I would have told you about her. But it hadn’t come up and well, I’m sorry.”
He was quiet for a moment and I held my breath hoping his next words weren’t to tell me to go to hell. “I get it. I was just surprised. Things were going so great, and it just all sort of went up in flames.”
I groaned feeling like a total heel.
“That won’t happen again. I have Libe a lot, but I will talk to Maxwell about respecting my space.
” Camilo’s silence was not exactly reassuring, but I had called ready to grovel, and I would continue to do so as long as he let me.
“Listen, I don’t want to be a pushy asshole, and I’m completely fine with you being done for the night.
But before we were interrupted, I was hoping to order something to eat and spend more time with you. I’d still like to do that.”
Camilo started to say something, hesitated, then tried again.
“I’m already home, Tom.”
My usual tactic when I encountered resistance was to retreat and try again later when the odds were more in my favor, but when it came to Camilo Briggs, I had zero chill. The only thing I wanted right now was to see him, touch him, get back the connection we’d had this afternoon.
“I can come to you. I’ll pick something up on the way over there. If you’re up for it, of course.”
More silence.
I was starting to think it really might be best to give up before I made him uncomfortable, when I heard him speak in a very low voice.
“My place is really small. Like your bedroom might be bigger than my whole apartment.”
Shit.
I hadn’t even thought of that. God, my head was so far up my ass sometimes.
“That’s fine.” I went out on a limb and tried to get us back to flirting. “I can get cozy. The more up close and personal the better.”
He chuckled at that. “That’s pretty corny, but I appreciate the effort.” He let out a long breath and when he spoke again, he sounded a little more at ease. “I’m trying to not second-guess myself anymore tonight. Dinner would be nice. I’ll text you my address.”
The relief I felt was almost debilitating.
“Okay, I’m going to head out right now.”
“Just buzz when you get here and I’ll let you in.
” As soon as we hung up, I got my ass in gear.
I ran downstairs and walked over to the Ethiopian place down the street to pick up some food.
We ate there all the time, so I could get them to rush my order.
Camilo only lived like twenty blocks from me, so I would be able to get there fast. I had the food and was in a Lyft within twenty minutes.
As the driver navigated the busy streets of Harlem, I tried to think about what I was feeling.
I couldn’t remember this much urgency to be with someone, to make things right.
With Maxwell, I had just let the current pull me.
Let him decide for us what the next step was.
When he said it made sense to get married, I went with it, same with the surrogacy.
So much of my personal life felt like that.
In business, I wasn’t afraid to work hard or be competitive. But with my personal life, I never felt the urge to get in there, to push.
Not with Camilo. With him, I wanted everything, right now.
Once again I thought of my mother’s words. That once I found the right person, I would know what to do. I really hoped she was right.
I stepped out of the Lyft and rang the bell for Camilo’s apartment. It was a red brick building with a bodega next door. People on the sidewalk were speaking in Spanish, bodies moving in every direction.
Such a New York City corner.
He let me in without asking who it was, and I walked up to his second-floor apartment.
I got up to the landing and saw him standing in the doorway.
His hair was in a thick braid and he looked like he’d taken a shower.
He was wearing an oversized Fordham sweatshirt and seemingly nothing else.
My dick throbbed from the sight and I wanted to drop the food on the floor and just go right back to where we’d been when our night got derailed.
Instead I tried to keep my shit together before I scared him off.
“I hope you like Ethiopian,” I said, holding up the bag. “I should have texted to ask.”
He shook his head and pushed up for a kiss when I bent down for one. I couldn’t help running my hand over his ass, which was clad in very small briefs.
“Thank you for bringing dinner. I love Ethiopian.”
“How am I supposed to keep it together when you’re waiting for me like this?
” His laugh was hoarse and just on this side of filthy; there was just enough brattiness in there that I had to grit my teeth so I didn’t maul him.
I nuzzled his neck as he pulled me into the apartment and closed the door. He smelled like coconut and limes.
“Not fair, you had time to shower. I smell like come, sweat, and the patchouli from the Lyft I took up here.” He grinned as he took the bag from me and started pulling containers onto his small counter.
“You smell fine, but you’re welcome to take a shower if you can squeeze into my tiny bathroom. I don’t think my clothes would fit you, but you’d at least wash the sweat off.”
I looked around his place. It was small, like a biggish studio.
Right by the door was a little kitchen area with a tall table and two chairs.
He had a small love seat against one wall, next to a bookshelf packed with books.
His bed was tucked behind a sliding door.
It was open right now so I could see into his private space.
His entire place was an explosion of colors.
There were prints on the walls, the couch was a bright green with red and blue cushions on it. His bed had all kinds of patterns and colors. This was exactly what I’d expected Camilo’s apartment to be like—vibrant, just like him.
I turned around and saw he was leaning against the counter quietly, letting me explore.
“I told you it was small.”
I walked up to him and put my hands around his waist. “You have no idea how happy I am to be here right now. I thought our evening was doomed.” I kissed his cheek and he tightened his arms around me. “Thanks for letting me come over.”
He shrugged, but his eyes shone. “Thanks for calling.”
“I’ll always call, Camilo.” He nodded, and even though he didn’t respond, it felt comfortable, like we were back in sync. After another minute, I decided to go for that shower after all.
“If you were serious I’ll take a shower while you warm up the food. I’ll be quick.” He nodded and pointed to a door next to the bathroom.
“There are towels on the shelf in there.”
I grabbed one and stepped into his bathroom. Thinking once again that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d wanted anyone this much.
Camilo
Tom was everywhere.
His body, his smell, all of him had taken over my apartment. I was feeling so many things just from having him in my space. I couldn’t believe how at ease he was. I’d been nervous he’d walk in and look down on my tiny apartment. But of course he hadn’t.
I took him in as he walked out of the bathroom in nothing but his jeans. His biceps bulged as he dried his hair off with my towel, and I had to dig my nails into my hands to keep from jumping him.
He must have noticed that my breathing got a little faster looking at all those muscles and tanned skin, because the fucker winked at me.
Smug bastard.
The effect his naked chest and sexy wet hair were having on me was significant. I waved my hand at my little table to indicate we could eat, to see if I could maybe distract myself with food.
He groaned when he saw everything laid out and walked over. “I’m starving. Thanks for letting me shower, I needed that,” he said as he yanked his t-shirt back on, mercifully shielding me from his lust-inducing torso.
“No problem, do you want a beer?”
“Sure,” he answered while pulling out a chair.
I grabbed a couple of bottles from the fridge and sat across from him. When I put the bottles on the table, he beamed at me after looking at the brand.
“You drink Presidente?” he asked delighted. The imported Dominican beer was pretty easy to find in Harlem these days, but I’d only bought it because when I’d seen it at the bodega, it had reminded me of Tom. I was corny as hell these days.
I lifted a shoulder trying to act like it was no big deal, but Tom’s presence was like truth serum. “When I saw them I thought of you, and I got them because I’m now a walking cliché.” He laughed at my words, like I was being adorable, and leaned in to kiss me.
When he pulled back, he had the confident grin he sported every once in a while, like he knew I was a goner for him. “You were thinking about me.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you, that’s my problem, Tom.” I said, unable to mask my exasperation.
I pointed at the food, “It’s going to get cold,” I said ready to be done with this sudden exploration of my thirstiness.
I’d arranged the stuff he’d brought on a big platter. With the injera, the sour crepe-looking bread used to scoop up the sauces and stews in Ethiopian meals, on a plate to the side so we could both eat off the platter.
Before digging in, he grinned at me again, like he knew what I was doing but was letting me get away with it. “This looks great.”
I lifted a shoulder. “Hey, you brought the food, I just arranged it.”
The corner of his eyes crinkled. He seemed to find my grumpiness endlessly delightful.
“It’s great to be here with you, Camilo.”