KNIGHT #2
Now, on Thursday afternoon, I’ve got Sullivan following me in his fancy as fuck Audi.
It’s the kind of car that’s so nice, it makes me wonder how long he’s been doing sex work for.
He had it the summer of freshman year, so I have to assume he’s been selling his services awhile.
I don’t know why that thought pisses me off except that everything seems to be pissing me off lately.
I’ve convinced myself I just need to get laid.
It helps put my roommates in a better mood whenever they get sucked or fucked.
I don’t claim to be above that. I do have needs, and I’m fighting off erection after erection on the drive to the secluded spot in the woods.
“Wow,” Sullivan says as he languidly steps out of his car to take a look around. “Where the fuck are we?”
I gesture widely. “Ozarks.”
“Yeah, but I mean—I might have to charge you for gas.”
I wish he’d cut the shit. I mean—I get it. I offered to pay him. He’s transactional as fuck, and I guess that hasn’t changed, but last summer it felt like we were almost something.
Not that I want us to be, and I certainly don’t need us to be.
It’s the last thing I need if I’m being honest with myself, but he’s not any less attractive to me than he ever was.
His long sleeved henley fits him perfectly, clinging to his lean frame.
He’s wearing straight leg jeans and Birkenstock clogs.
His dark blond hair is long and loose, the waves clean and shiny.
“Are we setting up a tent or something?” he asks.
“I don’t have a tent.” I lower the back gate of my truck. The bed is covered in every blanket I could find and some I thrifted along with two open sleeping bags. I brought all my own pillows. A few things shifted on the drive, but the cooler kept the spread I laid out more or less in place.
“Damn. Did you want to get right to it then?” He gives me a look I can’t interpret. There might even be some disappointment in it.
I take a chance and ask, “How much time do you have?”
“I don’t have anywhere else to be tonight.”
It feels like a confession, and I’m both relieved and flattered, not only that he would share that with me, but that he might have cleared the whole evening. “Do you want a beer?”
This time, he gives me a wary glance. I swallow when he studies my face, and I find myself doing the same to him.
It’s a little like the first time I saw him—arrested by how beautiful he is.
Eventually, he nods and hops onto the bed of the truck.
I follow him and leave the gate down for now.
Opening the cooler, I pull out two cold bottles of beer, open one for him, and hand it over.
He takes a long drink of it before glancing at me and saying, “Thanks.”
I nod, taking a sip of my own.
“What’s the story with your car?” I ask when too much silence has me feeling stupid and nervous.
He glances at the Audi. “Oh.”
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “Is it a secret or something? You didn’t steal it, did you?”
“No. But it’s not something I’m proud of, either.”
That makes me frown. As usual, talking to Sullivan is like being in a maze, constantly running into a dead end until I finally find a clean turn and an open path. “You know my secret.”
“Your secret isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”
“Are you gonna tell me?” I ask.
He takes a longer, deeper drink, draining more than half his bottle. “The man who bought me that car is also paying for my school.”
My scowl deepens. I’m glaring at the car, though, as I try to parse through his meaning. “Your uncle…?”
“He’s not my uncle.”
“Is it easier if I guess, or do you just wanna tell me?”
“I didn’t drive out here to talk. Technically.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve got all night, so…”
He sighs. “It’s a fucked up situation I don’t really like to talk about. Chelsea knows. I think that’s all I’m comfortable with right now.”
“Is it that bad?”
He gestures at the car. “It’s a fucking Audi.”
“And a college education apparently.”
“Exactly,” he says and drains the beer. “Can I have another?”
I give him another beer, and he gets to work on it in a hurry. Meanwhile, he pulls a vape pen out of one of his pockets and takes a long hit off it. “So, who was the guy? I mean, you don’t need to tell me his name, but how’d you meet him? What’d he do? Why’d you break up?”
“He plays for another team. And he announced his engagement to a girl in a post from an account he knows I follow, and I haven’t heard from him since.”
“Seriously?”
All I can do is nod, the betrayal from Blake still able to burn a hole in my chest wall.
“Were you two, like—official?”
“Obviously not.”
“I mean—like—was there a commitment?”
“No,” I say. “But I was dumb enough to think we were exclusive.”
“It’s hard to stay exclusive long distance.”
“You would know, I guess.”
He laughs sharply, but the sound disappears as quickly as it came. “What can I say. You made me curious.”
“Curious about what?”
“What I wanted. What I liked. Sexually curious.”
“Oh. I assumed you were…” I don’t know what I assumed about Sullivan.
That he was gay at first, I guess, because of that first night in the woods.
Then I assumed he was bi after I heard about his girlfriend.
What I never thought was that he wasn’t sure of himself.
His boundaries have always seemed clear. What he wants, what he doesn’t.
“I’m not anything,” he says. “Or I don’t know what I am.”
“Is it always transactional?” I ask, and I feel pretty brave doing it.
“Not always. But it’s not really emotional, either.” Staring hard at his car, he adds, “But I guess that’s normal, right? Being unemotional about sex? It’s just sex.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I mean, I know you sometimes get emotional during sex,” he says. “Maybe you’re not the best case study.”
Somehow I think I managed to forget the time I started crying when Sullivan and I were messing around, but the memory crashes into me all at once.
A deep flush heats my upper body, creeping up my neck to my face.
It was never like that with Blake, even though I felt like I knew him a hundred times better than I know the guy next to me tonight.
But sharing stories and jerking off on FaceTime maybe isn’t all that intimate. Showing Sullivan what I needed—what I craved, though?
I shake the thought away. It was just a bunch of first times. That’s all that was. Of course I was emotional. I thought I’d never get to have sex, and then he came along and showed me everything I’d be giving up for the only career I’ve ever wanted.
Still, I can’t deny I got emotional when it came to him. It was vulnerable, and I was scared. I was also really lonely. I don’t know what I am anymore. The sadness feels more like pissed off, but maybe anger is easier to feel than grief. “There was a lot going on in my head.”
“I know,” he says gently. “Me too. We all have our own shit. You know, it’s annoying how easy you are to talk to.”
I huff. “Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s just irritating.”
“Is it because you want to tell me about who gave you the car, and it’s annoying to have to keep your mouth shut about it?”
“Maybe.”
“Is it gonna piss me off?”
“Probably.”
“Well, I’m already in a shitty mood, so you might as well.”
“Or…maybe I could just do what I came here to do and suck you off instead.”