Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Elias
I was twenty-two when I got my driver’s license.
Most people get theirs in high school, but in my defense, I was a terrible driver.
I was so utterly incompetent behind the wheel that my parents and older brothers used to do the whole who’ll-draw-the-short-straw thing to determine who was left with the unpleasant task of taking me driving.
My brother went on to become a Hollywood stuntman, so basically, he was good with jumping off buildings and driving a vehicle through a field of explosives, but whenever he so much as heard that I might be the one picking him up at the airport, he started to stutter and mumbled something about being excited to take a cab.
It’s been ten years. He really should’ve gotten over it by now.
Driving school wasn’t exactly a more successful endeavor. To this day, I remain the only person who has ever been expelled from Providence Simply Drive Driving School.
It wasn’t entirely my fault. First of all, it was highly distracting when the driving instructor started muttering “Our Father, Who art in heaven” every time you accelerated or made a left turn or approached a traffic light.
And second, the fact that the car rolled down that hill and over his foot was only partly my fault since he never expressly told me to use the parking brake.
We’ll divide that blame between the two of us. It seems only fair.
It wasn’t all bad, though. Being expelled, as I discovered, gave me a certain bad boy image, so that got me some street cred. It was a good afternoon until one of my friends ratted me out, thus costing me the opportunity to be the badass of computer camp.
Still, miracle of miracles and against all odds, I eventually did learn to drive. And since I’d had a lot of practice on account of it taking me five years to actually get my license, when all was said and done, I was a driver whose skills were on the lower level of decent.
My family, even though they didn’t say it out loud, was probably extremely surprised that my first fender bender didn’t happen until I was almost twenty-five.
I remember it very clearly. I was driving home for Christmas.
The street was covered in black ice. I turned the corner.
The back tires lost their grip and skidded out.
It probably only took seconds for me to slide into a car parked on the side of the street, but those few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion.
It was the strangest feeling. All other sounds quieted, the ringing in my ears got louder, and I was very aware of which way I had to turn the wheel to cause the least damage. I remember the sensation to this day, even though I haven’t experienced it since.
At least, I hadn’t experienced it again until this exact moment right here.
There’s a strange man inside my boyfriend. Someone tall, dark, and despicably muscled is moving behind Chris. He’s gripping Chris’s hair, which is something Chris always said he doesn’t like because it messes up the artfully coiffed strands. Seems he doesn’t mind it that much right now.
They’re both grunting loudly, and Chris has an ecstatic look on his face—the one that says he’s getting a good pounding and is close to coming. I recognize it since I’ve seen it before.
Chris is on his knees, facing me, but his eyes are closed, so he hasn’t noticed me yet.
The muscle man is staring down at Chris’s ass, making some sort of weird, low moan slash babble sound, like he has something stuck in his throat and is trying to make his larynx vibrate to get it out. Or maybe he’s choking.
I cock my head to the side. I know I’m supposed to do something—make myself known, yell or curse or, at the very least, clear my throat. I should feel betrayed and angry and be planning my revenge.
Instead, I just stand and watch as some smarmy dude plows my boyfriend.
The guy must have a magical dick, because Chris definitely looks blissed out as he moans and writhes underneath the man.
It’s becoming a bit comical, to be honest. Their moans don’t sound real—more like they’re trying to outdo each other with exaggerated porn sounds, like they’re both trying to reassure each other that the sex is mind-blowing.
I half expect one of them to yell, “Yeah, stuff that huge cock inside me, big daddy.” Or something to that effect. My porn talk is rusty.
Who the hell knows how long I would’ve kept standing there—partly from the surprise of finding my boyfriend in the throes of passion with somebody who is decidedly not me, and partly from the sheer awkwardness of the situation, because hell if I know what the proper way to start untangling this mess is—but Chris’s companion chooses this moment to make an especially energetic thrust, which results in Chris’s eyes flying open, and that’s also the moment his gaze lands on me.
His eyes widen to the size of two saucers.
All in all, the panic in his gaze is mildly satisfying.
Chris’s houseguest seems to have lost his vigorous rhythm. His hips falter, and he freezes.
For a moment, we’re all silently staring at each other. I look away first, because honestly, I’m an unwilling participant in this visual threesome, so it seems only right.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Seems Chris’s houseguest is the first to recover.
“Well, as of this moment, I’m the ex-boyfriend of the man you’re—” I glance toward Chris’s ass. “—still inside of. Nice.” I give him a thumbs-up.
The guy frowns.
“Your ex has a key to your place?” he asks, but since he can’t exactly see Chris’s face, it looks more like he’s addressing the question to Chris’s ass. Either way, he’ll get some bullshit instead of an answer, so I don’t think it really makes a difference.
Chris pulls away, releasing the stranger’s cock with an exceptionally unpleasant lurch.
“What are you doing home so early?” Chris scrambles up from the bed.
“It’s your birthday. I arranged my shifts so I could surprise you. Weeks ago.” I take one more look at the scene in front of me. Chris, standing next to the bed, still naked, his companion kneeling on the bed behind him, looking a tad uncomfortable by now.
“Surprise!” I don’t sound as jubilant as I mean to. “Though it seems you started celebrating without me and got yourself a present already. Were you planning to share?”
“Is this guy for real?” Chris’s hunky Adonis mumbles, staring at me. He’s starting to look a tiny bit scared. I’m too calm, so he’s wondering if I might be a psycho.
“But… you said you were going to be in the hospital the whole day!” Chris sounds genuinely outraged. I can relate on some level. I, too, find it despicable when people make changes to their schedules without letting others know.
“I did?” I feign shock. “Oh. In that case, do continue. I’ll just drive back and wait until you give me a call that it’s safe to return home.”
I really need to get out of there.
“Eli!”
Chris’s voice makes me turn around again.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
I start to laugh.
“Are you shitting me?”
Chris lifts his chin, his jaw clenching.
“You never have enough time for me. It’s always work this and reading that. You can’t blame me for wanting some excitement in my life!”
“Dude! You’re cheating? Not cool,” the beefcake on Chris’s bed mutters as he slams his hands over his junk to preserve his modesty. Better late than never.
“I’m not going to apologize for having goals.” I know the moment the words leave my mouth that I should have just left and not engaged Chris.
“I knew it!” Chris points his finger in my face. “You don’t believe in the band.”
“I never said that.”
I have to hand it to him. He has the deflect and attack approach down pat. I already feel the need to defend myself from his accusations, even though all our focus should be on the scene I just walked in on.
“You know what?” Chris says. “This is all your fault.”
I let out an incredulous laugh.
“This should be good. Enlighten me, why don’t you?”
Chris narrows his eyes.
“This right here. You’re always rubbing your career in my face. Just because I chose a different path, you behave like you’re somehow better than me. But do you want to know what the main difference between us is?”
He doesn’t wait for my reply, just barrels on.
“You’re so fucking boring, Eli. Why do you think I’ve put off visiting my family with you three times by now?
They’d think it’s serious. A lifetime with you would be like living in a retirement home.
Ten o’clock bedtime because we need adequate sleep, Chris.
No video games while I’m studying, Chris.
I can’t come to your show, Chris, I’ve got an early morning. ”
“That was one time. You were playing in a wedding I would have had to crash to see your set, and I had an exam in the morning.”
It’s getting a bit difficult to stay calm, and my voice betrays that fact. Chris sends me a smug look. He’s getting to me, and he knows it.
I take a deep breath.
“It doesn’t matter. We’re done.”
Chris’s jaw clenches as he lets out a bitter laugh.
“Just like that? You just throw our relationship out the window that easily?”
“You’re cheating on me!”
“We’ve been together for two years!” he shoots back.
“And. You’re. Cheating. On. Me.” I say it very slowly. Maybe that way the message will register.
“Unbelievable. You make one mistake. You know what? It’s not like it’s really that big of a loss. You’re fucking terrible at fucking.”
“Poetic. And yet you stayed with me for two years,” I counter. “There must have been something about me that made you stick it out.”
“Free food and free housing will get you pretty far,” Chris sneers.
“I guess you’ll have to find a new wallet for yourself, then. Who knows, maybe your guest here has a secret desire to shoulder some of the expenses.”
The man is shaking his head before I even finish.
“No. No, no. I’m just here for the hookup, man,” he says, looking startled that he’s been put on the spot.
“A shame. Still, I’m sure there are plenty of idiots out there you can take advantage of. Try not to cheat on them, though. The idiots tend to see the light after that happens. I’m speaking from experience there.”
I turn to leave again.
“What about the band?” Chris calls after me.
“The band?” I repeat.
“My birthday present. I know you bought me studio time.”
“Dude.” Chris’s fuck buddy drags it out, sounding incredulous on my behalf. Very considerate of him.
I just shake my head. “See, I feel a bit miffed with you right now, so I wouldn’t hold your breath for that particular present.”
“What’s the point of just throwing it away?” It says a lot about our relationship that Chris seems much more outraged about the loss of studio time than the loss of me.
I cock my head to the side. “All things considered, I’d rather use the studio time myself. I could use it to record my new hit. It’s called ‘Fuck you, Chris.’” I look at Chris’s companion. “Sounds catchy. What do you think?”
“It has a certain ring to it,” the guy agrees carefully, hand still covering his dick.
“You’re an asshole,” Chris spits out.
“Takes one to know one.” I refuse to give him even one more look as I march out of our apartment.
“You’re unbelievable. You’re letting Phil and Jessie down as well, you asshole!” he yells after me.
I pull the door shut behind me and close my eyes for a second.
Fucking hell, I need to find a new place to live.