Page 87 of The Holy Grail
“What? I’m sorry, but I didn’t have any breakfast, so I’m hungry … and Snickerdoodles are my favorite.” For a second, Evan looked almost boyish as he added, “They make everything better.”
“After we talk, you can have some,” Malcom said, before asking again, “So, did you really think there was a chance I wouldn’t choose you?”
Evan cleared his throat. “No. I mean, maybe a little chance. You know, like really small—”
“Yes, really really small,” Jules added quickly.
Malcom looked from one to the other. “You two obviously talked about this last night after Evan got home from the bar? ”
“Yes,” Jules answered.
Evan glanced at her. “You told him I was in a bar?”
“Yes.”
“What else did you tell him?”
“Just that you were in a bar, and when you got home, we talked a little bit.”
Slightly confused at her not having told Malcom everything, given it was her usual MO, Evan pressed, “Did you say what we talked about?”
“No. I said we’d talk about it in the morning when we got here. So, now that we’re here, feel free to start talking.”
Malcom was beginning to think he wasn’t going to like whatever it was he was going to be told, and watched with trepidation as Evan came around the island and sat down on one of the barstools.
Evan, clearly reluctant, slowly began to speak. “So … after our fight, I did go to a bar for a drink. Anyway—” he broke off for a moment, then continued, his voice low, “while I was there, I ended up talking to another man for a while—”
“Talking? Or flirting?”
“He flirted with me. I didn’t flirt with him.”
“What was his name?”
“His name?”
“Yes, his name. I want to know the name of the man who was flirting with you.”
Looking slightly embarrassed, Evan answered, “It was John or Sean, I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure?”
“It was pretty loud in the bar.”
“Okay, so John or Sean flirts with you for a while, and then what? I assume there’s more?”
Evan paused. “I let him buy me a drink.”
“You let him buy you a drink.”
“Yes.”
“I assume, at some point, his flirting with you turned into hitting on you?”
“Yes.”
Over her coffee cup, Jules watched the two men go back and forth, with Evan looking more and more uncomfortable and Malcom looking more and more upset.
“How hard was John or Sean hitting on you, exactly?” Malcom asked, and even though his tone was conversational, it was obviously taking effort to stay that way. “Was it like, ‘ Hey, we should go out sometime,’ or more like, ‘Hey, why don’t we go back to my place and fuck’?”
Jules set her cup down, then inched her way over to the island and leaned forward, bracing her forearms on the granite countertop.
This male-on-male thing happening was actually kind of turning her on, despite the topic of conversation, but she was helpless to do anything other than get a closer look.
The fact they were both a little battered, was also oddly hot ... which was probably a legitimate red flag.
“It was the latter,” Evan replied. “He wanted to fuck, but I wasn’t interested.”
“You weren’t? Not even a little bit?”
“No. I wasn’t interested when he offered to blow me, either.”
Malcom’s eyes narrowed again. “He offered to suck your cock, too?”
“Yes. He was actually kind of … persistent about it.”
To Jules, this was beginning to feel almost like foreplay, because the sexual energy between the two men was registering around DEFCON 3, at least to her, anyway.
“Was John or Sean attractive?” Malcom wanted to know.
“Yes, he was … although he had terrible taste in cologne.”
“So, shitty cologne aside, were you attracted to John or Sean?”
“I was attracted to the way he made me feel.”
“And how did he make you feel?”
“Like I was wanted.”
“You are wanted. All the time … by me— ”
“And me,” Jules broke in.
“And Jules,” Malcom said.
Evan sighed. “I didn’t feel wanted last night.”
“So, you went looking to get it from someone like John or Sean?”
“I just went to go get a drink, that’s all. That guy wasn’t planned, he just happened.”
Malcom looked contemplative for a moment. “Were you in a gay bar or a regular bar?”
“A regular bar.”
“You get hit on by men in regular bars, too?”
“Yes.”
It was something which hadn’t occurred to Malcom—that he might have to worry about Evan getting hit on anywhere he went—but then realized what a stupid mindset that was. Gay people obviously didn’t just frequent gay establishments .
God, Malcom really had a lot to learn.
“Like I said, it wasn’t planned, but I did let it happen,” Evan told him. “I shouldn’t have, and I regret it.”
Malcom nodded. “The fact you did let it happen, is a problem for me. You know why? Because you belong to me—”
“And to me,” Jules broke in again.
“And to Jules,” Malcom said. “Putting yourself in a position where you let someone other than me or Jules proposition you for sex or offer to give you a blow job is … unacceptable. Understand?”
“Yes. It won’t happen again,” Evan promised.
“That’s right. Because when I say you belong to me—”
“And to me,” Jules broke in a third time.
“And to Jules,” Malcom said, “that especially includes your cock. No one else gets to see it, touch it, suck it, or fuck it, except for me and Jules.”
“I know,” Evan said.
“Do you, really? Because your response to our fight last night was to go to a bar and let yourself get hit on by John or Sean, instead of just going home. I know you have booze at your place, so you didn’t need to go to a bar for a drink.
I needed a drink after our fight, too, but I came home—after getting an Uber, of course, since my ride had already left—and had one.
Well, more like three. Then I baked a couple dozen cookies.
” He paused, before adding dryly, “See the difference between your night and my night?”
“I get it. I truly do, and I’m really sorry. I was being immature, thoughtless, and selfish, and if you’d gone out and let someone hit on you, I’d be hurt, too, not to mention disappointed.” Evan sighed. “And I know you’re both of those right now.”
“I am, but I’ll work through it.”
“You will?”
“Yes. You’re one of the things I can’t live without, so I’ll be working through it.” Malcom then pointed to a large, white ceramic canister with the word ‘COFFEE’ stamped on the front in black letters. “The cookies are in there.”
“You put them in a ‘coffee’ canister? Is that so no one—like me—will find them?”
Malcom almost chuckled at the ridiculous notion he’d go to the trouble of baking cookies, only to hide them. “No. I don’t have an actual cookie jar, so it became my de facto cookie jar once I started keeping my coffee beans in the fridge. ”
Not needing to be told twice, Evan practically sprinted over to the cookie jar.
After removing the lid, he took a moment to just look at all the perfect cookies inside, before taking one and biting it in half.
Then with an appreciative moan, plucked three more out before replacing the lid.
“Jesus, these are fantastic. Soft in the middle, a little bit of crunch on the outside, and the perfect amount of cinnamon bursting on your tongue,” he said.
“Thank you.”
Once Evan had taken his seat again, Malcom went back to the original topic of his father. “So, last night, when I was fucking around in the kitchen, I thought about my father a lot, but not once did it ever cross my mind I wasn’t going to tell him to go fuck himself, but …”
“But what?” Jules prodded.
“I just don’t think I’m ready to do it.” Malcom held up a hand, as if to ward off a barrage of comments.
“What I mean is I want to do it from a position of strength, so when I do tell him to go fuck himself, every word is delivered with weight and force, because I want him to feel each one, and know I’m not a scared little boy. ”
The last part was directed at Evan, who had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m sorry about that. I really can be a dick.”
“You can, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t right. My father really has the ability to make me feel like a scared little boy, and right now, that’s my biggest roadblock.”
Jules came around the island and then half-planted herself on one of Malcom’s legs and took his face in her hands. “Fortunately, we know someone who can help with that.”