Page 81 of Bobby Green

“Why didn’t you hook up sooner?”

Bobby scrubbed his hands through his hair. “’Cause I was dumb. It’s hard, you know? Figuring the difference between sex and love and what you should do and what you really want. I have sex at work, I guess. I make love with Reg. I should date and marry a girl. I really want a guy. Reg. That’s as much as I’ve got figured out.”

Lance half laughed. “I don’t know if I’ve ever made love. I get all the sex I can handle. I should date and marry a girl. I don’t want a girl. I’m supposed to become a doctor. But I’m so tired. So damned tired.”

Bobby got up off the air mattress, grabbed his phone, and made it to the couch by the time Lance lost his shit. Rocking this guy—this guy he looked up to—in his arms and telling him it was all going to be okay made him more aware than ever how ill-equipped he was to be a grown-up.

And how he was the guy Reg depended on.

Navigating Strange Waters

REG WOKEup the day after his scene wondering why it felt like Christmas.

Then Bobby texted.

OMW—bringing a couple changes of clothes and some more stuff to work on the hallway.

And lube?

Didn’t we still have some?

We’re going to use more. Lots more. Swear.

God, he missed Bobby.

He’d come over during the day for lunch, to watch TV, keep Veronica company, and of course to work on the house. He kept eyeing Reg’s cabinets with serious intent, and Reg was starting to get scared. There were canned goods in the back of those cabinets that predated Reg’s twenty-first birthday. He honestly had nightmares sometimes about what would come out of those cans if opened.

But that didn’t mean Reg didn’t look forward to the rattle of Bobby’s pickup as it pulled up next to Reg’s Camaro in the driveway. Bobby brought games for them to play at night, and he and Reg were reading the same books and…

And Bobby kissed him at the car before he left. Long, deep, slow kisses, the kind that left Reg feeling breathless and young, like the world was wide-open and glorious and Reg could do anything with his life.

Anything.

And then Bobby would leave him, hard and aching and hating their jobs with a passion, and Reg would remember.

He was a porn model with no education to speak of, and caring for his sister was a full-time job.

Oh.

Oh yeah.

It was almost unfair how easy it was to forget all that with those long, powerful arms wrapped around him.

The night Bobby spent in the apartment with the guys had been interminable. Reg wasn’t worried about Bobby getting laid. The whole reason he wasn’t at Reg’s that night was because he had a scene, and there was an abstinence period.

But he hadn’t been with Reg.

The next day, though, he’d been thoughtful and withdrawn—and his kiss at the car had been particularly fierce, leaving Reg wrung out and shaky by the time he was done. He didn’t say what was wrong, and Reg didn’t know how to ask, but the next day had been his scene.

Reg had done lights in the other room, so he hadn’t seen Bobby until after he was done, wrapped in a robe, and on the way to the shower.

He’d smiled tiredly at Reg and held out his hand, like he was keeping Reg far away.

“No kiss,” he said, voice sounding rocky. “Not now. Wait until I’m clean, okay?”

And Reg stopped there, right in the hallway, and let Bobby pass, realizing what it meant, for him to be clean.

Somebody else’s mark was on Bobby’s skin. Somebody else’scomewas drying there. Maybe his voice sounded funny because he’d swallowed too much jizz and it had gone down the wrong tube—happened to Reg all the time.