Page 56 of Ctrl+Alt Submit

AARYN

S aturday morning dawns bright and breezy. It seems like a good omen for the fundraiser event. Errol yawns and scrubs a hand over his eyes when he comes into the bedroom after his shower, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“What time did you get in last night?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I didn’t even look, but the birds were already chirping.”

I feel guilty. “Do you want me to come with you this morning to help out?”

When he lets out a hmm and gnaws his lower lip in thought, I can’t help myself. I tug the towel off him as I pull his naked body against mine, sliding my hands down to palm his ass. “Which panties are you wearing today? Going with the lucky ones?”

The amber flecks in Errol’s eyes glow. “Guess I ought to, huh? And if you don’t mind coming with me, I’m sure I can find some way to put you to work.

I think you do still owe me for the time you’ve lived here.

” He leans in and traces a line up the side of my neck with his tongue.

“You’ve run up quite a tab, Stud,” he says in my ear.

The way his voice drops at the end sends a shiver down my spine.

I release him reluctantly and try to focus on the busy day ahead.

I n the parking lot behind Finn’s a couple hours later, I blow out a hard sigh and brush damp hair off my forehead.

So far, I’ve helped Errol unload an unfathomable amount of ice and nestle it into a bank of coolers, and assembled folding tables into a giant U around the barbecue grills.

My arms already ache. Errol hasn’t so much as let out a grunt or broken a sweat. I feel like a wimp.

As if he could hear my mental griping, he glances up. “How’re you holding up?”

“I’m good! What’s next?” I say with forced enthusiasm.

Errol raises an eyebrow and smirks. Dammit. This is definitely a drawback of dating somebody who knows all your mannerisms and can read you like a book. “Would you rather go inside and organize all of the utensils?” he asks. “Everything’s on top of the bar; I just haven’t gotten to it yet.”

My shoulders slump with relief. “Yeah, I’ll tackle that.

” I hover in the doorway for a minute, watching Errol’s shirt grow tight across his shoulders as he picks up one of those coolers, now full of ice, and walks it underneath the tent two of AJ’s biker buddies just assembled.

He gives them both a fist bump and says something I’m too far away to hear that makes them laugh.

My dick stirs in my pants. Errol lets me pretend to be the boss, but in reality, he nails conventional masculinity way better than me.

Between the two of us, he’s the one who can lift heavy shit, fix broken shit and all that.

The sense of raw power I get from dominating him is made even hotter by that unspoken truth, by the strength that lies beneath his submission.

I never would have admitted it to Errol, but initially, I wasn’t holding out a hell of a lot of hope that they’d raise enough money to keep Finn’s out of tax foreclosure. I’d been trying to figure out if there was any way I could come up with the money, but there weren’t a lot of good options.

Most of the money I’m going to make from selling my company is still in escrow until all of the regulatory shit is filed and approved, which apparently takes for-fucking-ever.

I thought about a loan, but banks aren’t wild about lending to unemployed guys, and almost-millionaire status doesn’t mean shit.

When I asked my finance guy if I should liquidate my investment account, he texted me back immediately: DON’T FUCKIN DO IT brO .

I felt helpless, but right now, standing in the sun with a plastic cup of beer in my hand and a decent rendition of some mid-teens hard rock in my ears, I start to feel optimistic. Maybe the burly biker and the kid with the white hair can pull off the impossible. I smile at the thought.

A hard shove in the middle of my back makes me stumble forward.

Half a second later, I flinch as a cold shock cascades from my scalp all the way down my body.

I realize I wasn’t just bumped into by somebody holding a drink even before I hear the hooting laugh that summons back a sickening surge of long-buried memories.

Fletcher motherfucking Bundy. One-time star high-school quarterback, full-time dickhead bully — now apparently with a grudge he’s been nursing for more than a decade and a willingness to waste an eight-dollar beer by dumping it over somebody’s head.

But I’m not a scared, skinny kid anymore. What I am is pissed-off as hell. We’re all goddamn grownups here, for the love of God. Who the fuck does this snickering asshole with his juvenile prank think he is?

I whip around. “The fuck ?” I yell. “What the hell is your issue, Bundy? Stuck in the past because you peaked in high school?”

“Still a mouthy little shit, I see,” he sneers. “You got off easy back then! I’ve been hoping to run into you for years now. You deserved way worse for what you did to me!”

“What I did to you ? Good thing you got kicked off the team — sounds like you can’t afford to lose any more brain cells!” I fire back.

Bundy aims a black scowl in my direction. “Fuck you, twerp. You ruined my life! Instead of working a shit job for my old man, I could’ve gone to college and done something with myself.”

Seething, I bark out a bitter laugh. If Errol had a parent willing to step up and support him, never mind employ him, who knows where he’d be today?

“College isn’t how you do something with your life.

Being motivated is how you do something with your life,” I snap.

“Grow the fuck up, already. I’m done with this shit. ”

I make an attempt to get around him, but Bundy steps towards me, blocking my escape.

He’s still bigger than I am, even if he is soggier now.

He cracks his knuckles. My anger at this entitled dickhead is still white-hot, but it’s being rapidly supplanted by an icy squiggle of fear in my guts as he draws closer.

I was at the edge of the audience watching the band before, and I can tell he’s trying to force me out of the crowd’s sight line —which would put me in deep shit.

The band starts up its next set. Fuck me.

Any prayer I might have had of someone hearing a shout for help just evaporated.

And fuck me again , because Bundy nods at a couple of guys who peel themselves off the crowd and join him.

I recognize one from high school. He played football, too, but now he’s drawn and unshaven with darting, pinprick eyes.

The second guy is unfamiliar, built like a brick shithouse with a nose that’s definitely been broken.

“What the fuck?” It doesn’t slow down my quickening heartbeat, but relief sweeps over me when I hear Errol’s voice. All four of us turn to see him storming over. A deeper dread stabs into my guts when I realize he’s alone.

“I heard you yelling,” he says, taking in at a glance my soaked appearance and the three guys ringing me.

Bundy gets in his face. “Stay the hell out of this, dude! I’ve got some unfinished business with this guy, and it’s none of your fucking concern.”

I realize Bundy doesn’t recognize Errol as his eyes snap back to me. “It’s fucking payback time, Knight.” He punches into his palm. “By the time I’m through taking that football scholarship you cost me out of your skinny ass, you’ll be the one missing brain cells.”

Errol turns on Bundy in a fury. “This is my business. Get the hell out of here, and get the hell over yourself — it’s not like you were ever going to do more than warm the bench playing ball in college.” He throws me a quick glance. “You OK, babe?”

Bundy blinks at him in stupefaction for a moment before his expression turns incredulous. “ Skunk ?”

Errol’s eyes darken with anger until they’re nearly black. Honestly, I’m not sure I recognize him right now. “It’s Errol, asshole,” he snaps.

Bundy’s eyes narrow as his eyes dart between Errol and I. “Ohhh…” He smirks. “I got it. You fucking dweebs always were a couple of —”

With one stride, Errol inserts himself between the two of us, a split-second before my sweet, submissive Babydoll hauls off and punches Bundy’s insult straight back into his fucking face.

Bundy staggers back, cursing as blood streams from his nose.

My stomach turns a little when I realize it definitely wasn’t at that angle seconds ago.

Errol brings the hand that’s not still balled into a fist to his mouth and blows an ear-piercing whistle around two fingers.

“Get the fuck out of here, lowlife,” he snarls.

The goon with the busted-up nose charges at Errol.

With panic and adrenaline fueling me, I do the unthinkable: I launch myself at him.

I jump high enough to throw an arm around his neck as I slam into his back.

He shoves my arm away and, predictably, shakes me off with relatively little effort, sending me and my ego alike tumbling onto the pavement.

Fuck , I suck at this. My heart sinks as Bundy rushes back into the fray, face bloodied and fists up. And then —thank God — the fucking cavalry shows up in a blur of ponytails and leather vests and tattooed arms.

Washed-up high school jocks don’t stand a chance. As soon as Bundy’s within reach, AJ grabs him by the collar of his shirt and the waistband of his jeans. He lifts him as easily as he’s been picking up serving trays all day and launches him at his former teammate.

AJ and his biker buddies make short work of all three dickheads as Errol races to my side. He takes me by the elbow, guiding me out of the fray to a couple of folding chairs near the back door of Finn’s.

“Sit,” he says. I’m embarrassed to feel my knees trembling as I do. Errol scoots the second chair closer until we’re nearly touching. “Are you OK?”

I nod, shamefaced. I am OK, technically —a fact for which I can take exactly zero credit.

The fact that Errol had to come to my rescue is both mortifying and disorienting.

It was always the other way around before: When we were kids, I was the one inserting myself between Errol and whoever wanted to hurt him.

“Thank you for bailing me out of getting my ass kicked,” I mumble. “Sorry I dragged you into that mess.”

Errol looks indignant. “Don’t be sorry! Nothing about that shitshow was your fault. That immature asshole obviously wanted to pick a fight, and he wasn’t going to leave you alone until he got one. What would you expect me to do —stand there and watch? I wouldn’t let him hurt you!”

Seeing this new, unfamiliar side of Errol gives me a different perspective and a whole new appreciation for the grit that lies within him. I think back to this morning. Watching his strong shoulders and his easy rapport with the bikers, I felt… not humiliated, but sure as fuck humbled.

“I really admire you,” I blurt out. Errol blows out a pfft and I feel myself frown.

“No, really. I know you might not always feel like it, but you carry yourself with a confidence that I envy. Maybe you look at yourself and see what you’re not , but I see what you are .

You’re strong, you’re loyal, you’re handsome.

” I huff out a sound that’s not really a laugh. “You’re so much tougher than me.”

Errol lowers his forearms to his thighs, drops his head and starts shaking it slowly without saying a word. I hope he’s not pissed-off at me. I’m confused when he suddenly snickers, then breaks into a full-throated gale of laughter as he straightens back up.

“What’s so funny?”

“Fletcher fucking Bundy just got his nose broken by a guy wearing red satin panties.”

I snort. “Don’t forget the lace.”

When AJ comes over a minute later, the two of us are still howling with laughter. “What’s so funny, dudes?” he asks.

“It’s kind of a long story,” I gasp, wiping tears from my eyes.

“Here, why don’t you sit down.” Errol gets up.

“I don’t want to make you stand,” he says, but he’s already sitting down on the chair Errol just vacated with a whoosh of a sigh.

“He won’t,” I say, patting my lap. Since most of the beer went down my back, the front of my jeans are more or less dry. “Have a seat, baby.”

AJ kind of laughs. “You guys are funny.” He studies Errol. “I didn’t expect you to have a fighting side in you. Who were those douchebags, anyway?”

“I didn’t really expect it, either,” Errol mumbles.

He looks uncomfortable at being complimented on his ass-kicking ability.

“Bunch of high school assholes that never grew the fuck up. Thanks for bringing the muscle. I think that whole mess would have ended up differently if it was just me and Ran.”

AJ gives me a look that says clear as day he doesn’t expect me to be any kind of help in a fight. “No sweat, bro. They were disrespecting me with their shit, too.”

“Thanks, man,” I pipe up. “I owe you one. You got BVE going on there —big Viking energy,” I tell him, which makes AJ grin.

“I guess I better start putting it to use breaking down those grills,” he says as he stands up. Making a fist, he gives Errol a tap on the upper arm. “Just be gentle with this guy tonight,” he says, pointing his thumb at me with a smirk as he walks back to the grill station.

Luckily, his implication doesn’t filter through to my overloaded brain until a minute later when he’s out of earshot, because I can’t hold back my laughter again. “You hear that, baby? You’re supposed to go easy on me .”

“ Pfft .” Errol just rolls his eyes, but I can see the smile he’s trying to hide.