Chapter Fourteen
An hour later, Harris was mourning the death of his laptop.
He couldn’t sleep; he couldn’t even keep his eyes closed for more than a few seconds before all of the screams and sobs from the plane came back to him.
He’d gotten checked out by one of the medics who had been on the scene at the airport.
The medic had assured him his heartbeat and blood pressure were only slightly elevated, which, of course, was normal for anyone who had been through something so terrifying.
But she’d suggested he take it easy, and to go to a hospital if he felt off later.
Harris felt a lot of things, now that he was alone.
He was rattled and still buzzing with a restless energy despite feeling drained at the same time.
He was also startlingly horny. And that was why he wished he had a working laptop.
Not that he needed porn, but he would welcome the distraction right now.
He didn’t want to look at his phone, though.
In fact, he had turned it off, and buried it in his suitcase.
He turned on the television instead, and found a reality show about house flipping that was exactly the level of drama he could take right then.
There was a knock on his door just as the episode was ending. Harris knew who he hoped it was, but was still surprised to see Troy when he opened the door.
“Hey.” Troy had changed into black sweatpants and a soft-looking gray T-shirt. His hair was damp, and his skin was still rosy from what must have been a very hot shower. He looked dangerously sexy, especially when Harris was already so keyed up.
“I can’t sleep,” Troy said.
“Me neither.” Harris stepped back, and Troy walked past him into the room.
“I brought you something.” Troy turned and thrust a plastic CVS bag at Harris with so much nervous anticipation that Harris wondered if it might be full of condoms.
He took the bag from Troy, and when he looked in it, nearly burst into tears. It probably had more to do with his emotional state after the whole plane ordeal, but goddamn. Troy Barrett was going to kill him.
“Cookie dough ice cream,” Harris said, pulling the small container out of the bag. “You went out and got this for me?”
“Yeah. I got a spoon from the bartender. It’s in the bag there.”
He really had. He’d left the hotel at...whatever the fuck time it was...and tracked down some cookie dough ice cream.
“So it is.” Harris managed to keep his voice steady, just barely. “Only one?”
Troy shrugged. “It’s not for me.”
Harris didn’t know what to say. His poor heart had already been through so much today, and now Troy was standing in his hotel room, inches away, smelling so good and watching Harris with wide, uncertain eyes. It was too much.
Harris gestured to the bed. “Have a seat.”
Troy sat on the edge of the bed. The room was dark except for the television, and the blue, flickering light danced across his face.
“What are you watching?” Troy asked.
“A real estate show. I was only half watching.” Harris stretched out on the half of the bed where he’d been before, then patted the other half. Troy hesitated a moment, then moved until he was beside him. Harris peeled off the seal on the ice cream and dug his spoon in.
“Mmm,” he moaned around his first bite. “You’re my hero for getting this, buddy.”
Troy was propped on one elbow, watching him eat. “You deserve it.”
“Yep. I definitely earned my treat today. Jesus fuck.” Harris laughed, and Troy, miraculously, did too.
“What a fucking nightmare,” Troy said.
“No kidding. I don’t ever want to experience that again.”
They both stared at the television for a few minutes. Harris wasn’t really watching at all, his attention divided between the ice cream and the gorgeous man who had brought it to him. The man who was reclining beside him, close enough that Harris could feel the warmth from his skin.
“I used to make fun of Ryan Price on planes,” Troy said quietly. Unexpectedly. “Because he was scared of flying.”
Harris didn’t say anything. He hated hearing things like that, but he waited for Troy to continue.
“He was such a wreck, every time he flew. We thought it was hilarious.”
Harris knew that by we, Troy meant himself and Dallas Kent.
“And now,” Troy said, “all I can think about is how we have to get on another plane in a couple of days. I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Yeah,” Harris said. “I’ve been thinking about that too.”
“I owe Ryan a thousand apologies. Jesus fucking Christ. I was such an asshole.” Troy turned on his side to face Harris.
“He’s the bravest person I’ve ever met. Seriously.
Dallas liked to laugh at what a baby he was about flying, but how much fucking courage do you need to have to face your fears, like, at least once a week?
Usually several times a week. For years. I can’t even fucking imagine.”
“It’s impressive,” Harris agreed.
“And he’s gay, too.”
Okay. That seemed like a non sequitur. “I don’t think being gay makes flying scarier.”
“No, I mean, like, that’s fucking brave too. Two things Dallas thinks are weak, being afraid and being gay, but they aren’t. I wish I’d...” He sighed. “I wish I’d done everything differently. I should have supported Ryan and told Dallas to go fuck himself.”
“Probably,” Harris said. He wanted to say something more substantial, but his brain was in tatters and Troy’s mouth was very close to his.
Troy flopped onto his back, creating some distance, but not removing the temptation. “I have so many regrets.”
Harris was about to create a regret of his own if he didn’t stamp out the burning need to kiss Troy.
Because, yeah, it had been a weird night, and, yes, they had been holding hands on the plane, and, sure, Troy was lying beside him now in the dark after coming to his hotel room with cookie dough ice cream.
But none of that meant that Troy wanted anything from Harris besides some companionship. Troy was straight, as far as Harris knew, and even if he wasn’t, he was the most beautiful man Harris had ever seen. He could do better than an apple farmer with a busted heart.
“So what’s on your mind?” Troy asked. “I’m unloading on you like a selfish jerk over here.”
“You’re not a jerk. I like it when you talk to me.
And I don’t know what’s on my mind right now.
A million things, but I’m too tired to figure them out.
” Harris laughed. “I was thinking about watching porn earlier, if you want total honesty. But my laptop is broken and I turned my phone off and shoved it to the bottom of my suitcase. Don’t want to look at it until I have to. ”
“Same,” Troy said quietly, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Porn, huh?”
Harris probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. “Yeah. Just thought it would be a good distraction.”
“It would be.” Something bright was on the television screen, and for a few seconds, Harris got a clear view of Troy’s cheekbones, his full lips, and the shadow of stubble on his jaw.
Harris needed to change the vibe. Immediately. “Do you want some ice cream? You should at least try it.”
Troy turned his head to glance up at Harris. “Is it good?”
“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Here.
” He held out a spoonful of ice cream, hovering it over Troy’s lips.
Troy stared at the spoon, as if unsure if it was safe.
Then, slowly, he leaned forward, and parted his lips.
Harris slipped the spoon inside and watched Troy’s face as the sweet, silky ice cream hit his tongue.
Troy’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, those long, raven-wing lashes brushing his cheekbones. The tip of his tongue peeked out from between his plush lips, as if seeking any stray drops that he may have missed.
It did not change the vibe. At all.
“Oh,” Troy said quietly. “Shit, that’s really good.”
“Yeah,” Harris said distantly. If he kissed Troy right now, he would taste like ice cream. “More?”
A painfully shy smile curved those soft lips. “Okay.”
Harris, realizing that it would be weird to continue spoon-feeding Troy, handed him the container and the spoon.
It was also weird to be sitting in the dark, so he turned on the bedside lamp.
Troy settled back against the pillows with the ice cream, while Harris sat, cross-legged, next to him, trying like hell to focus on the television.
It was difficult when Troy kept sighing happily around each mouthful of ice cream.
Harris gave his thigh a playful shove. “I told you ice cream is awesome.”
“Mm” was all Troy said, because he’d just shoved another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.
They watched TV while Harris’s hand twitched with the urge to touch him again.
He often craved physical touch and loved cuddling possibly even more than sex.
He found it comforting, and at that moment he desperately needed comfort.
Nothing inside him felt right; his brain couldn’t settle, his skin prickled, his stomach was in knots and his throat was dry.
He didn’t want to think about his heart. He was sure it was beating normally, medically speaking, but it felt...fluttery. Anxious.
He heard the spoon scrape against the bottom of the ice cream container and smiled. “That didn’t take long.”
“It’s a small container.”
Harris turned to look at him, and huffed out a laugh when he saw how relaxed Troy seemed.
His hair was mostly dry now, but it was messy and fell in his eyes.
He had one arm stretched over his head, which gave Harris a nice view of his biceps, and also of a strip of skin above the waistband of his sweatpants. A hint of his muscular abs.
“I’ll take that,” Harris said, grabbing for the empty container. “I’m going to the bathroom anyway.”
He needed distance. Now.
In the bathroom, he rinsed out the container, then brushed his teeth, drank some water, and examined himself in the mirror. He looked exactly like he felt: wired, exhausted, on edge. He wondered if Troy would go back to his own room now. He didn’t want him to.