Chapter 4 The Whims of Desire
I stay up late for a few more nights to see if Lane makes a repeat visit to the kitchen, but he never does. Maybe he learned to bring a glass of water with him to bed, or maybe he’s just trying to avoid being in the same room alone with me without Oliver watching over us like a hawk.
No matter. I’m willing to wait and bide my time. We have all summer, after all. I could make my intentions even more obvious and speedrun getting Lane into my bed—that’s what Oliver thinks I’m after, and sure, it’s part of what I want, but not all of it.
I want the chase.
I want the submission.
And most of all, I want Lane to come to me himself. I want him to choose it. I want to make him beg for it.
Seems like that’s going to take a bit more time and a bit more subtle or not-so-subtle nudging. Whether that happens in impromptu meetings in the kitchen or not doesn’t really matter. We live in the same house—we’re bound to run into each other sooner or later.
Besides, I have other stuff to do. Namely, texting my friend Tess and announcing my early release.
I tap my fingers over the keyboard and press send, a slight knot in my stomach. It’s not that I don’t want to see her; it’s that I don’t know if she wants to see me.
Two seconds later, I get an array of emojis and question marks and exclamation marks, followed by an “I’m coming over right now. Where are you?”
Relieved, I smile at the screen and send her the address, and less than half an hour later, she’s at the door, throwing her arms around my shoulders.
I hug her back for a long time, as the result of being stuck in a hostile environment for months hits me harder than I thought it would.
I didn’t just miss being free; I missed my friends.
I made some in prison, sure, if you can call them friends.
But it’s different on the outside. Unlike in prison, you don’t have to constantly worry that people are only being friendly because they’re trying to get shit out of you. Money, a fuck, a favor…
Well, I guess the outside isn’t much different after all, but at least Tess isn’t like that.
She’s got her strawberry-colored hair in a messy bun, and she’s wearing blue jeans and a pink T-shirt with a swirly print saying “Girls do it better.” She can be a bit rough around the edges, like me, but she’s got a good heart—not so much like me.
“Damn, this is where you grew up?” She passes through the arched doorway leading into the living room. “It’s nice. Really nice.”
I shrug. “I guess.”
Mom’s job meant Oliver and I grew up with everything we needed and more. It’s pretty easy to forget how good I grew up, at least when it comes to money. And yet, I still managed to completely fuck up my life.
“I wanted to throw you a welcome back party,” Tess says over her shoulder, “but I don’t know if that’s appropriate. Also, you’d hate it.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I’d hate it.”
Her voice softens as she turns around and gives me a smile. “I’ve missed you, though.”
“Missed you too.”
She only visited me in prison once, which was justified, I guess, given the hours-long bus ride. But the unspoken words hang in the air between us. We haven’t properly talked about what happened that night…
“How was prison?” she asks.
“Pretty boring.”
“Didn’t get into trouble?” She winks.
“I figured I’d already gotten into enough trouble.”
I spent most of my time working out and trying to keep to myself, and thankfully, the guys in there got the memo and mostly left me alone. For over a year, my focus was on making the time pass. And now it has. All I want is to put that shit behind me, but the world won’t let me forget.
As we cross the living room, Tess lunges at the family photos above the TV, grabbing one with the whole, happy family—as it used to be, anyway. Me, my mom, Oliver, and Logan.
“You look pretty much the same,” Tess says. “But oh my God, is that your brother?”
I shrug. “Yeah.”
“He’s so tiny and cute! And who’s this? I thought your dad was—”
“That’s my stepdad.” Former stepdad. I have no idea why Mom lets the photo stay up and poison the house with its memories, but if I had to guess, it’s got something to do with Oliver.
“Can I see your room?” Tess asks.
“It’s not much to see, but fine.”
We go upstairs, and Tess settles on my bed and starts talking.
At times like these, I just like to listen. Tess doesn’t mind if I don’t nod or hum at every statement or rhetorical question. She knows I’m listening. She knows I care. Besides that, she’s the only person I feel comfortable being myself around.
I had a few friends lingering from high school, but when pretty much all of them went off to college, I was left alone, sick to death of studying, and lacking direction in life.
When I was twenty, I applied for this random bartender job on a whim, and my charms and interview skills must’ve been stellar enough for the boss to accept me despite me being underage. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
“So my new job is pretty shit,” Tess says, rambling on in quick succession about stuff I haven’t asked about but still want to know.
“The owner is a jackass, the staff is overworked, and we serve rich assholes all night, but at least the pay is decent. Oh! And my coworker is a fucking goddess—I’m crushing hard.
We’ve got a couple of cute boys too,” she adds with a wink.
“So have you asked her out yet?” I ask, a little bored but curious all the same.
Tess is a relationship person; during the time I’ve known her, she must’ve had about a dozen relationships, with durations ranging from less than a month to about a year.
Don’t know how she does it. No offense to her, but relationships are for boring people.
As for me, I’m just looking for a fun time.
With a fun time, both parties get what they want and don’t walk out hurt in the process—even if some of the guys I’ve fucked have wanted more and claimed I used them.
Hell yeah, I used them, but that’s what they fucking wanted.
They had a great time, came buckets, and maybe we saw each other once or twice after that before I got bored and moved on.
Nothing personal. Just the whims of desire.
There are lots of people out there looking for a good time like me, but as it happens, I can’t really find any right now without violating my parole, and the last thing I want is to land myself back in prison.
That would be the opposite of fun. Granted, I did get laid quite a bit in prison, but it was always laced with desperation, with guys who weren’t my type.
As for my type, well… I don’t have to travel far to find one. Just a walk down the hallway.
Tess interrupts her rambling to ask, “What’s got you smiling like that?”
I was smiling? “Nothing.” No one.
She punches me lightly on the shoulder. “Oh, come on, I know that smile. You’ve met someone.”
“How am I supposed to meet someone if I never leave the house?”
Just then, I hear Oliver and Lane laughing among themselves as they go downstairs for breakfast, or more like late lunch.
“Is that your brother?” Tess asks, perking up. “And who’s that with him—a visitor?” She makes a move to get up, but I shake my head.
During our time as coworkers, we got so accustomed to each other’s body language that we know when shit’s serious.
“Not today,” I mutter. “I’ll introduce you later.”
Today, I’m too stuck in my head to be any kind of social.
Too aware of the mess my life has become.
By now, I should’ve figured out what the hell I’m supposed to do with my life, but instead I’m more stuck than ever.
My life took a left turn, and Tess… Tess was there when it all happened.
Even though it was a pretty long time ago, seeing her brings me back.
Wet pavement, a flickering streetlight, and a voice screaming “no!”
I scowl and look sideways.
“Are you okay?” Tess asks.
“Define okay.”
“How’s the job search going?”
“The job market’s pretty shit; I doubt anyone will hire an ex-con. Besides, bartending’s all I know.”
“I’ll talk to my boss if you want,” Tess says sympathetically.
I shake my head. “It wouldn’t work.” Besides, I wouldn’t want to risk having another incident. Tess and I working together… We’re bound to get into trouble, even if it won’t be that kind of trouble. I’m on a tight leash for the foreseeable future. One misstep, and I’ll be back behind bars.
Tess frowns. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Why?” I always used to be able to talk to her, but I don’t know… A lot of time has passed, and I feel more closed off now than I used to. I hope our friendship is still salvageable, but it would be just my luck to ruin this too.
I am fine, though. As soon as I get my shit together, I’ll be even more fine.
The sound of footsteps thunders up the stairs, and Lane’s voice floats down the hallway. He sounds all excited, probably talking about the games he and Oliver have been playing nonstop.
My hands flex as I remember the cool steel of the silver ring at the front of his collar, his huge brown eyes glaring up at me, and the flush rising up his neck.
Yeah, I’ll be fine. As soon as I get my hands on Lane, I’ll be more than fine. Maybe it’s time to speed up that process.