Page 47 of Bobby Green

“We were having fun,” Rick said, voice low and aching. “You know. Didn’t want to spoil the fun, because if I spoiled the fun, maybe I wouldn’t have you anymore.”

Oh God. Bobby wanted to put his face in his hands and howl.

“But….” Skylar pushed up, shamelessly naked in his body, cluelessly naked in his soul. “But you’ll always have me, bro. I mean, you and me—why would we split up?”

Bro. Bobby was listening to confessions of love, and Skylar used the word “bro.” Laugh, cry, or throw up—he was on for all three.

“Because Bobby’s right,” Rick said sadly. He turned around and rolled his eyes. “He was a prick about it, and his timing sucked, but he was right.”

Bobby shook his head. “You involved me in a kinky threesome before coffee,” he said, hating everybody. “I regret nothing.”

“Whatever,” Rick snorted. “I’m in love with you, Sky. I… I loved you from our first scene. But you were all… free sex! Let’s play! And I… man, I was along for the ride.”

Skylar started to laugh as he draped himself along Rick’s back. “Well, it was fun,” he defended. “But, you know. Only ’cause you played too.”

“But…love. I… I don’t know if I can keep playing with you, now that you know I—”

Skylar pulled his chin around and kissed him, so tenderly, so sweetly, Bobby forgot all about the rude awakening and the weird threesome and remembered all the things he used to yearn for when Keith Gilmore was sucking him off.

These guys together—they made Keith look like an ass clown. The give and the take of them, the way Skylar held Rick’s chin, the way Rick closed his eyes—it wasn’t for a camera or for show.

It was for each other.

“Keep playing with me,” Skylar said softly. “And I’ll keep playing with you. And only with you. And that’s all I need. It’s all I ever needed.”

“Sky?”

Bobby wondered if that was Skylar’s real name, because if it really was, Reg could quit kicking himself for the whole Digger thing that wasn’t quite sticking.

Fuck. Reg.

“I love you too, Derrick. Jeez, don’t be dense.”

Rick turned around, and they started kissing some more, in earnest, stumbling until they made it to the door to their room, slamming it behind them.

Bobby stared after them, confused and heartsick and stunned and still deliriously happy for them at the same time.

“Well, that was the damnedest thing,” Lance said from the couch.

Bobby swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and stared at him, running his hands through his longish hair. “Lance, don’t take this the wrong way, ’cause you all been really decent to me and I appreciate the hell out of that, but I think I need my own place.”

Lance regarded him with compassion. “Things too messy here, farm boy?”

He grimaced. “Sex confuses things,” he said and then remembered he was probably going to have to have sex with Jessica, and his stomach cramped.

“Yeah.” Lance shrugged, and in the silence they both heard the unmistakable sounds of Skylar and Rick doing what they apparently did best. “And sometimes it makes them really wonderful.”

“Haven’t had that happen yet,” Bobby confessed. The moment of his audition, when he was coming down from afterglow and Reg was stroking his hair back from his face, kept running through his mind. “Maybe once,” he whispered.

“Whatever you have to do to get back to that,” Lance told him. He stood up and let the blanket fall down his fine athlete’s body while he stretched. “You can shower first, I’ll make coffee, and then we can go work out before you leave for the hills.”

Bobby nodded, thinking that he’d really, really miss this place if he left.

And that he absolutely, positively had to fuckin’ leave.

HOME.

The tiny house on Frank Gilmore’s property had peeling paint that Frank wouldn’t let them paint over, peeling linoleum he wouldn’t pay to replace even if Bobby did the work, and plumbing that groaned like an old whore because Frank was waiting for it to rust and explode.