Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
MARCUS
Outside, the air is crisp and Seattle is alive with streetlights and car horns.
“Which way are you going?” Jeremy asks.
I point vaguely to the right. The alcohol is buzzing in my system.
I’m not drunk, but the whisky, coupled with talking about my brother and my hopes for the future, has put me in a sour mood.
I don’t know why I unloaded all that on Jeremy.
I’ve never told anyone about my desire to leave the pubs behind.
Jeremy nods. “I’m in that direction too.”
I just nod back, not trusting myself to speak, and we walk along the sidewalk together, a respectable distance between us. Fall leaves scatter around my feet, kicked up by the marine breeze. I feel wetness on my face and squint up into the inky sky.
“I hate mist,” I mutter. “Either rain or don’t. Jesus.”
Jeremy snorts a laugh and pulls up his hood, tucking his hair behind his ears.
I peek at him from the corner of my eye.
His movements are so elegant that I feel clunky and awkward next to him.
But I also can’t stop staring because something about the fluid way he moves is making my dick hard again.
And when Jeremy shivers, I have the overwhelming urge to give him my jacket, which is fucking weird.
Just before we reach the entrance to the parking garage, Jeremy stops at a bike rack and digs out his keys, unlocking a red and blue e-bike from the rack.
I watch him doubtfully as the mist turns into a steady drizzle. “You’re riding home in this?”
“It’s fall in the Pacific Northwest, Marcus. I’m used to the rain.”
“It’s dark out.”
“I’m not going that far.” He fastens his helmet.
“I’ll give you a ride,” I blurt.
Wait, what?
Jeremy’s fingers freeze on the strap on his throat. “You drove here? Don’t you live close?”
I shrug. “I park at the garage near the pub because the monthly rate is cheaper.”
He gives me an incredulous look. “Why would you want to give me a ride?”
I grit my teeth. “One, I’m not an asshole. And, two, it’s wet and dark, and you and I both know that Seattleites ironically can’t drive for shit in the rain.”
That comment earns me a smile, and I like the way it makes me feel a bit lighter than I did before.
“I can’t leave Peter out here.”
I frown. “Who’s Peter?”
“My bike, obviously.”
“You named your bike Peter?”
“Peter Parker. After Spider-Man.”
I stare at him with my mouth open before I catch myself, rubbing my hand over my lips to hide the reaction. “I have a truck. We can take . . . Peter.”
Jeremy looks around like he might find an excuse lying on the cracked sidewalk. “I—” He sighs. “I guess so.”
“Jesus. Try not to sound so grateful,” I snark, turning on my heel to head into the parking garage.
Jeremy pushes his bike behind me with an annoyed grunt. “Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor.”
I produce my resident key card and buzz us in. I slow down as I walk between cars, and Jeremy’s bike tire snips the heel of my shoe, pulling it down. I growl and turn, and Jeremy meets my stare, unmoving. Even under the dull fluorescent lights, he looks otherworldly.
I want to touch him, but that would be super inappropriate, so I shake my head to clear whatever the fuck is happening in my brain. These errant thoughts are ridiculous. Is this what alcohol does to me now? Makes me want someone I shouldn’t?
“Sorry,” Jeremy mumbles. “Accident.”
It didn’t seem like it was an accident, and my frustration escalates because now it feels like he’s antagonizing me. I hit the remote start on my truck, and it roars to life behind me.
Jeremy rolls his eyes. “Is that supposed to impress me?”
I ignore him and walk around to the back, opening the tailgate to load in his bike. He brings it around, and I reach for it, and our knuckles graze.
“Be careful. It’s an e-bike, so it’s kind of heavy.”
“I can handle it.” I snatch the bike from him, but it is, in fact, much heavier than I expect, and I stumble into the tailgate. I hiss in pain.
Jeremy smirks. “Told you.”
“You’re a fucking brat,” I retort as I right myself. I load the bike in the back and rub my sore butt.
“Tell me how you really feel. Maybe if you’d just listened—”
My patience shatters, and I step forward, my hand gripping Jeremy’s throat. I resist the urge to squeeze. I don’t want to hurt him, but, damn, this kid has a smart mouth, and I like it way too much.
Jeremy’s eyes dilate, and his breath catches. I feel him swallow beneath my palm. My brain short-circuits, and desire swells hot and heavy below my waist. Desire that I don’t understand.
Jeremy can’t move, but somehow his lips are getting closer.
Am I doing that?
My breath quickens and my heart pounds, and everything feels out of control, and suddenly I’m scared. So fucking scared.
“What’s going on, big guy?” Jeremy’s voice is gravel, and it snaps me back to reality.
What the fuck am I doing?
I drop my hand and recoil, breathing the chilly air. Without looking at Jeremy, I walk to the passenger-side door and yank it open.
“Marcus—”
“Just get in the fucking truck.”
Jeremy doesn’t listen, of course. He crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a cool look. “How is this going to work if you’re constantly giving me mixed signals? I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”
“Me either!” I yell, slamming the truck door closed and banging my forehead against it. “Do you think I want to feel this way?” I look at him. It feels like my insides are on fire.
Jeremy’s eyes soften, and he walks over to me, placing a gentle hand on my back in what’s probably supposed to be a comforting gesture. “Listen, Marcus. I know what it’s like to be confused and scared. I went through it too before I came out—”
Before I think better of it, I spin around, knocking his hand away. “Don’t touch me. I’m not gay. I don’t—”
Jeremy steps back, eyes wide, before I see the flash of anger. “Listen, you homophobic prick,” he hisses. “I’m sorry that you can’t accept the fact that you’re attracted to a twink like me—”
“I-I don’t want you.” I scowl at him, unable to explain the conflicting emotions that are making me feel like a live wire. “Not like—I mean . . .” I frown. “What’s a twink?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose.
I hear the scrape of feet somewhere in the garage, and our proximity causes icy panic in my veins. I look around quickly, but don’t see anyone, so I take a deep breath.
Tough it out, Marcus.
I press my back into the side of my truck, adding mere inches of space between us, but it feels like a chasm. “Look, I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I don’t care that you’re gay,” I say firmly. “But I don’t like men like that.”
Jeremy gives me an assessing look. “Is that why you came quicker than a preteen who just discovered his dick?”
This motherfucker.
But his sass definitely defuses the situation. I glare at him and reopen the door. “Can we go now?”
He sniffs passive-aggressively. “Fine.” Then he pushes past me, and climbs into the cab.
Jeremy lives on Capitol Hill. It’s not a long drive, especially this time of night.
We sit in silence the whole way, and when I pull up to the curb, I lean over, looking at his apartment building.
The streetlight reflects off dirty bricks and white trim stained mossy green—a typical old Seattle apartment.
“What’s that look for?” Jeremy asks.
My eyes cut to his, which seem to glow in the dark. “Nothing.”
“It’s nicer inside.”
My stomach jumps. “Are you inviting me inside?”
“No,” he says quickly. Our breath fogs up the windows, making the cab of the truck feel stuffy. “But you’re acting like I live in the hood.” He pauses. “Do you want to come up?”
“What? No! And I wasn’t being judgy. I didn’t even say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“You sure do like to make assumptions,” I grumble.
“And you’re a transparent rich prick. Can you at least try to hide the fact that my apartment disgusts you? You don’t have to feel sorry for the poor little gay boy. Some of us are frugal on purpose.”
My mouth drops open. “You got all that from my face?”
“Am I wrong?”
“Of course you’re wrong!”
“Whatever.” He opens the truck door and walks around to the back.
I jump out after him.
He’s just opening the tailgate, and I reach for the bike, but his glare stops me. “I got it,” Jeremy snaps.
There’s that brat again.
I step back, raising my hands in surrender. “Fine.” I watch him lug the thing from the truck bed. He stumbles as he hauls it to the pavement, and I catch his elbow, steadying him.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “And thanks for the ride.”
I nod and watch him make his way into the building, and as I do, a weird emptiness fills me.
Shit.
Maybe I did want to come inside.