Chapter Two
Adam
I’m in that foggy place between not quite awake and not quite asleep when someone slaps my naked ass.
“I’m hungry.” A sharp acrylic nail pokes at my shoulder. Ruby.
When I don’t do anything except groan and tuck my head under my pillow, her manicured finger scratches at my cheek. “Adam. Wake up. Feed me.”
“You can suck my dick if you want,” I mumble.
Ruby makes an impatient noise, followed by the flop of her landing on the pillow beside mine. “Your dick doesn’t taste anything like French toast with strawberries.”
My sleepy haze is popped by a splinter of disappointment. Ruby’s funny and cute, but that line doesn’t work on me like it would have in the past.
“You sure? Maybe you should check again.” I know, it’s a real head-scratcher that we’ve broken up so many times.
It doesn’t help that she’s engaged to someone else.
My eyes are still closed, so I can’t see her rolling her eyes. Some things you just know.
Soft lips press against my shoulder blade. “Pretty please.”
“We went out to eat last night. I’m tired.”
She flings one leg over my hip. “My treat, yeah? And when we get back, I’ll give you a bonus treat.”
Oof. The spirit is willing, but the dick is soft. And the body is worn out. I already fucked her last night, and I hate to say it, but I’m not as into that as I used to be, either. Took me forever to nut.
We both know she’s using me. There are no strings, so I don’t even mind most of the time. But it’s getting old.
“Adam.” She sing-songs my name while she straddles my ass, fingers spider-walking across my back. I squirm against the sensation, wondering if I’d be a total dick to throw her off bucking bronco style.
Then my door bursts open, and with a mouse-like squeak, she rolls herself off.
“Breakfast!”
The sound of my best friend’s voice gets me out from under my pillow. Troy’s standing in the doorway holding two mason jars and two spoons.
Ooh. Overnight oats. I like it when he makes the PB&J kind.
That’s the thing about Troy—he doesn’t try to barter with food. He just feeds me.
Ruby scrambles to pull the covers up over her tits. “Troy, what the hell? I know you were raised by cave people, but haven’t you learned to knock?”
He blows out a dismissive “pssht” noise. “Babe, I’ve seen your tits before. I don’t know why you’re bothering to cover those things up.”
There’s a moment of silence while they stare each other down. Ruby doesn’t really like Troy. Troy doesn’t really like Ruby. They don’t even get along when all three of us fuck, though it’s better then. Mostly, they seem to tolerate each other because of me.
Troy tolerates her because I’m not great at breaking up with people, and Ruby tolerates Troy because she doesn’t have a choice.
I have a short list of nonnegotiables: insulin and Troy. I’d do away with the first thing if I could. Never the second.
Troy sidesteps the discarded laundry on my floor while Ruby side-eyes the jars of oats in his hands. “Seriously? That stuff tastes like wallpaper paste.”
He plunks one jar on my bedside table. “Lady, you haven’t done a day’s work in your life. What would you know about wallpaper paste?”
“I know it’s disgusting, and I don’t want to eat it. And besides, I do have a job.” She crosses her arms over her impressive chest. Her dad got implants for her as a high school graduation gift, which is better than whatever I would’ve gotten from my father had I graduated. Had he been alive.
“Working ten hours a week at a fancy stationery store downtown hardly counts as gainful employment. Though I guess that doesn’t matter when you’ve got Daddy paying your rent.”
She surges forward, forgetting her modesty. “You know what?—”
“Kids. Stop. Don’t make me turn this bed around.” I put my hands over my ears, but then I go ahead and reach for the jar Troy put on the table.
There’s a blissful few seconds of silence while I stir what’s in the jar, until Troy says, “Eat, man. Your numbers are a little low.”
Ruby huffs. “I’m going to take a shower.”
She flounces up and into the next room, glancing backward once to see if I’ll follow. I notice, but I pretend I don’t. I’m already digging into my food.
“Mmm. The blueberries are a nice touch. Thanks, man.”
Troy drops himself into the spot Ruby vacated, digging into his own portion. “Always.”
“You could have offered her some,” I say.
He shrugs. “You heard her. She doesn’t even like them.”
“You didn’t know that.”
“Sure I did. She doesn’t like anything. I’m not even convinced she likes you.”
This time I’m the one who shrugs. “She likes what I can do with my dick.”
“That dick’s like a city bus, babe.”
“You’re thinking of my ass.”
He laughs, but he’s avoiding my gaze. “Whatever.”
Troy’s been a little…off, lately. Feels like there’s something missing. A distance between us that didn’t used to be there. Not sure what to do about that.
He flicks his gaze over to the bathroom door, where a terrible screeching noise announces the starting of the shower. Our apartment building isn’t the best, but it’s in an okay neighborhood and conveniently located. The landlord lets us pay the rent in cash.
“Seriously though. Isn’t she, like, engaged or something?”
“I think so?” I scratch an itch over my eye using the handle of my spoon.
“Apparently the guy went through some crazy shit a while back. Kidnapped and taken to some island? One of those stories people were throwing around on the group chat. Pretty wild. He hardly speaks now, apparently. Not sure if they’re still planning on walking down the aisle after all that. ”
Troy chuckles, setting his jar of oats down. “You think she’s going to pick you instead?”
“Come on.” I’m sort of laughing too, but his question sobers me up. “You know that wouldn’t happen.”
“Why not?” Troy’s tone tries a little too hard to be casual. “She’s rich. Killer body. Real catch.”
“And you can’t stand her,” I murmur. Rolling toward him, I reach up and run my fingers across the top of his head. His short hair is soft in the mornings before he’s styled it. I like it this way.
Troy scoots down until he’s under the sheet, rolling onto his side to face me.
“I don’t like the way she treats you like a sentient dildo with a wallet.
Her family’s richer than God, and she keeps making you take her out to every expensive restaurant in town.
At least when clients use us that way, we get paid. ”
My phone pings from inside one of my boots.
I keep it there a lot of the time. Old habits from when we lived in places that weren’t as safe.
Troy’s buzzes from his pocket at the same time, which means it’s probably our fellow escorts’ group chat.
I ignore mine because I’m eating, but Troy checks his.
He reads the text out. “Dean needs a fake boyfriend for some event at his kid’s school. Guess Michael’s unavailable.”
Dean and Michael are both escorts we work with. They’re not completely enmeshed like Troy and I are, but they’re together an awful lot. Apparently they’re related somehow? Sometimes it seems like they hate each other. Sometimes I’d swear they’re fucking.
Every time I try to think about it too hard, my brain glitches.
“I’m not touching that one,” I say. Much as I want to help a buddy in his time of need, I’m not going to risk accidentally getting into whatever drama those two have going on. Plus, Troy and I are both terrible with kids.
Troy puts the phone down. “No shit. Funny how our friends have some stupid pool going about when we’re going to finally admit we’re a couple, but nobody asks questions about those two.”
We both laugh, and then we both go quiet. Probably because the topic of defining what we are to each other always gets a little sticky.
For the most part, we say we’re best friends. It’s true.
That we’re best friends who sleep together both professionally and recreationally while I sometimes have a sort-of girlfriend who we sometimes share, but also we’ve only been apart for a handful of days in the last six years? Well, that’s a mouthful. Not worth trying to explain.
We’re not a couple. Couple is too simple. More like fated mates, if that concept actually existed.
“Ruby did offer to pay for breakfast,” I say.
“After the three-hundred-dollar meal we had last night at the Premiere, that’s sure fucking generous.”
Anger creeps into his words, and they manage to find that soft spot in my chest. The one that hates to disappoint people. Especially Troy.
“It’s not as if we can’t afford it.”
He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he runs his fingers through my shoulder-length hair like I’ve been doing to him.
Carefully, he untangles the snarls that have formed during sleep.
Anyone watching us would think he’s looking in my eyes, but he isn’t really.
The way his gaze is distant and unfocused, I know he’s thinking hard.
For Troy, it could be about anything. He’s a thinker. A worrier. Anytime his lips aren’t moving, he’s busy running through everything from our grocery list to nearby escape routes.
But he’s been a little distant lately. Extra quiet. Especially since last night.
“Kind of fucked up, what we saw last night.”
“Hmm?” For a second I almost buy that he doesn’t remember what I’m talking about. Except he can never keep his mask on around me. “Westy’s drama is none of our business.”
“His name is Wes. And you immediately knew I meant him. Not that asshole yelling at his kid in the hotel lobby. Or that news article Ruby showed us about an increase in drug overdoses around Belle Argo.”
“To be fair, I did almost punch out that dick yelling at his kid.”
“Same.” Abusive parents are an issue for both of us. Who knows why? “But Wes. Remember when you jerked him off that one time?” I know he remembers. It wasn’t that long ago.
Troy gives me an impatient look. “Vaguely.”
“You thought he was homophobic. Must not be, if he let you jerk him off.”