Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
PJ
Ravi: You know what I don’t quite understand? Cock cages.
PJ: I hate even to ask
While I might hate to ask, I am morbidly curious, so I do a quick internet search, which—oh, hey. I had no idea that was a thing people did.
Guess my world’s opened up lately to a lot of things I didn’t realize people did.
Simon: Really? Because I’ve got ALL sorts of questions…
Honestly, I need to get some sleep. My “real” job requires me to be in at six in the morning, and it’s almost three.
My night ran long thanks to a gig as someone’s wedding date, and said date was in love with the fucking groom.
Who the hell knows what to do when their date is sitting in the back of the ballroom in the historical Belle Argo Harbor House, crying into a flower arrangement?
Needless to say, I got my date’s game face on long enough to make an appearance at the reception, stole a bottle of champagne from the bar, and took the guy for a walk down the beach before he could do something stupid.
Now I’m the one with regrets after hours of alcohol-fueled heartbreak. Poor fucker.
Love’s a scam, I know that much. Growing up I had a front-row seat to my mother’s stupidity, and the truly fucked-up things people do for love. If that shit didn’t teach me a lesson, this guy’s meltdown sure did.
The question is, which is worse? Falling in love or being alone? It doesn’t help that listening to Quinn’s tales of woe gave me the same hollow feeling I got when I walked out of Fallon’s house a couple of weeks ago. But we’ve already established that love is stupid. So.
Ravi: I’m not trying to yuck someone’s yum or anything. I got lost down a research rabbit hole, and I don’t get how some of this stuff is pleasurable, that’s all.
Simon: Kind of the point of kink, Rav. Not everyone is into gangbangs.
I know I’ll regret asking, but…
PJ: Rav, I thought you were still a virgin?
Adam: Gangbangs are a little impersonal if you ask me. A good threesome tho…
Ravi: I’m not into gangbangs. I’m not sure what I’m into. That’s the point of doing research.
It’s not like I can judge. I’ve recently discovered I’m into some things I hadn’t realized before. Maybe Ravi’s got the right approach.
Not sure about the cock cages, but…
Troy: Why do research when you can just watch porn?
“Fuck off! Goodbye!” Jolene’s high-pitched squeal has me peeling myself off the ceiling.
I look over to see her waddling through the doorway of my sparse bedroom with her head feathers raised.
Pretty sure cockatoos are supposed to sleep at night, but like me, she hasn’t been the same since Evans disappeared.
I’m still learning how to take care of her properly.
Turns out birds are kind of a pain in the ass. They live a long time too, so Evans had better come back. She’s not nearly as fun as Fallon in the shower, and when I don’t give her enough attention she starts screaming at me. I cannot handle being stuck with this bitch until I die.
“Sorry, Jojo, I forgot to tuck you in, didn’t I?” Do I think it’s cringeworthy when people baby-talk to animals? Hell yes. Do I baby-talk to my brother’s cockatoo? I sure as fuck do. I’ve done worse things to avoid getting my eyes pecked out.
I hold my hand out so she can perch on my finger, then I take her to her perch in Evans’s room, kiss her on the beak, and turn out the lights. At least one of us deserves to get some sleep.
I’m climbing back into bed when I get another text, which I almost ignore. Those idiots will probably be talking about cock cages and gangbangs until the sun comes up.
Except the text isn’t from the group chat.
Fallon: Since you mentioned having a pet bird, I thought you might find this amusing.
We’ve been texting here and there since our date. Mostly, he sends me stupid memes, and I respond with an eye roll or a swear emoji. I may also occasionally remind him to eat or rest, because he doesn’t seem to do a lot of adulting for a guy his age.
I click on the video he just sent, which shows a parrot yelling at a guy that he needs to get a job. I chuckle and then send him a reply.
PJ: Sounds like that parrot knows my parrot. What are you doing scrolling videos at this time of night?
Fallon: Oh, I didn’t expect you to be awake.
PJ: Probably shouldn’t be, but my brain’s still working
Fallon: Same. I don’t sleep much.
He’s mentioned that a few times, and each time it pisses me off more. I’ve tried not to pry, but I also can’t stand the idea of him lying awake all alone in that big bed of his at night. He really does need a keeper.
PJ: What are you spinning on?
Fallon: It’s stupid.
More embarrassing than baby talking to a bird and dwelling on the insane decisions people make when they’re afraid of being alone?
PJ: Tell me
Fallon: Since you asked so nicely… I’m 37 and I don’t have a vision for my future.
PJ: Plenty of people have that problem. I don’t think there’s an age limit on having your life figured out.
I’d bet my mom, who will be out of prison in one to six years depending on her behavior, doesn’t have a plan for the future. She’ll be lucky if she doesn’t get arrested again.
Fallon: Tell that to everyone I know.
PJ: Do I need to fuck somebody up for making you feel like shit?
Fallon: Haha, you’re a good friend.
The suspiciously pointed use of the word friend gives me heartburn. So does his assumption that I’m joking. When I care about someone, I take care of them. And I’ve begun to care about Fallon, whether I like it or not.
The smart thing here would be to say good night and sign off. I need sleep and so does he. Fuck knows I don’t need to deal with any more “you’re a good friend” bullshit.
But the apartment’s dark now that I’ve turned out the lights so Jojo can sleep. There’s something about the dark that encourages decisions people wouldn’t otherwise make.
My thumb hovers over the button to initiate a video call. Which would be fucking stupid. Friends don’t call friends at almost four in the morning.
Or maybe they do, because my thumb presses the button before I’m totally aware of what I’m doing.
“This is a surprise,” Fallon says with a smile. He’s sitting up in bed. I recognize the tufted headboard. He’s also shirtless. Hello.
“The conversation felt a little intense for text,” I tell him. “And I don’t like knowing you’re up at night kicking yourself.”
“Not kicking myself exactly, just…feeling a little stuck. When Marina was alive, she always had a plan. When she died, I figured I needed time to grieve, but life would get back to normal. Here I am a year later, and I don’t even know what normal is supposed to be.
” He frowns into the camera. “Is it weird, me talking to you about her?”
A little. “Nah.” Then I force what I hope is a convincing smile. “What are friends for?” My ass needs to buy a bottle of those chalky tablets. A few bottles.
It doesn’t bother me that he had a wife. It bothers me that too many of my waking hours are spent obsessing over our night together.
And… Okay. As sick and selfish as it is, it bothers me that he doesn’t think about me as much as he clearly does about her. Yeah, yeah, they had a whole life together. She’s gone, though. I’m right fucking here.
Fallon smiles and settles back against the headboard. There’s a hint of light brown nipples that come into frame for a moment, only to fall out of frame again.
“Since you called, I’m going to ask you to distract me,” he says. “I know why I’m up late, but why are you?”
It takes a moment to process the question, because I’m kind of homed in on looking at him. I can’t do it without remembering the way his throat felt clamped down around my cock, without wondering what it’ll take to get another night with him.
This friend shit is going to have a pretty short shelf life. I won’t be able to hide that I want more of him forever.
“PJ?” He’s frowning at me.
I shake my head. “Oh. Yeah. I don’t know, it’s a good question.” Except it’s not a good question, and I’d rather not have to lie to him. Especially after he’s been vulnerable with me.
“That’s not true,” I amend. “More like a fucked-up and pointless reason to be up. I was thinking about love.”
Fallon tips his head to the side. “I’m going to need more context.”
I settle back as well, burrowing into my pillow.
I’m not wearing anything, but I’ve pulled the sheets up, so it’s not like he can tell.
“Went to a wedding tonight. My date happened to be head over heels in love with the groom. We’re talking drunk on champagne, sobbing and falling down in the sand. I don’t know why he even went.”
“That sounds…” Fallon shakes his head. “Miserable.”
“It hurt just to watch the guy sit through the vows. Poor bastard’s been pining for ages over his brother’s straight best friend.
He wanted me to go with him because he never dates.
He’d rather be alone than with someone he doesn’t love.
On the other hand, my mom has made nearly every poor decision in her life out of a misguided need for someone to love her.
She’s in prison because the last guy she dated was a dealer who talked her into moving his product, and she sold drugs to a cop.
So, I was thinking, is it worse to be in love or be alone? ”
Never mind that touching another guy has felt a little weird since my date with Fallon. I’m not in love with him. That would be fucked.
“That’s deep for after three in the morning, PJ.”
“If you ask me, after three in the morning is the best time for deep thoughts.”
And dirty ones. He’s shifted position, and I can see his nipples again. I catch myself rubbing my thumb and forefinger together, imagining that hard nub between them.
Fallon gives me a slight smile. “Maybe you’re right.” He takes a deep breath. “Well, in my experience, love is hard and so is loneliness. Different kinds of hard, that’s all.”
“From what you said about struggling since Marina died, it sounded to me like the loneliness is harder.”