I open my front door and am met with the sound of a blaring TV. I find Dad passed out in his old, worn out recliner. He’s got the remote in his hand and he’s snoring. The man works harder than anyone I’ve ever met. I pry the clicker from his hand and turn the TV off. I shake his shoulder until he startles awake.
“What time is it?” he asks.
“Almost nine.”
“Where have you been?” He uses the lever on the side of the recliner to lower his feet to the ground.
“A friend’s house.” I plop down on the sofa.
“What friend?”
“Pops, I’m thirty-five years old and you still treat me like I’m a teenager.”
“No matter how grown you are, you’ll always be my kid.”
“Speaking of teenagers, where’s ours?”
“In his room doing homework. Can’t you hear?”
I listen and hear the tell-tale sound of loud music. I stand up. “I’m going to see how his English test went today and then head to bed. Need anything?”
“I’m good. You’re really not going to tell me who you were with?”
“Nope,” I call over my shoulder as I walk down the hallway. Coming out to Dad at twenty was hard and he didn’t accept it at first. He didn’t want me to have to deal with any more discrimination I was already going to face as a black man. Even if we live in a gay friendly town. Brigs Ferry Bay has become a mecca for gay men.
Eventually Dad came around, but only in a very abstract way. He knows I’m gay, but he doesn’t want to talk about it or acknowledge it. It’s a very don’t ask, don’t tell relationship.
It’s not an issue since I don’t see myself ever settling down. I haven’t found anyone I want to be with for longer than a week, let alone a lifetime. While it would be nice to not feel like I have to check my sexual orientation at the door, I can deal with it. I have a good life. I have friends, my job, my family, and occasionally I find someone to fuck. Not nearly as often as I’d like, but that’s on living in a small town.
I knock twice and open Eli’s door. He doesn’t hear any of it, because the damn music is too loud. I walk over to his Bluetooth speaker and press the power button. His head flips around and he scowls from where he’s sitting in front of his laptop.
“What the fuck?” he snarls.
“Watch your mouth. You’re too young to talk like that.”
“Whatever.” His teenage angst is comical.
“How’d your test go?” I ask.
“Fine.” He clicks a few buttons and pulls up his grades.
“A B is more than fine. Proud of you, E.” I give his shoulder a squeeze.
“Thanks. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be.”
“No, you were prepared. There’s a difference.”
“I guess.” He shrugs.
“Need anything before I go to bed?”
“Nah. I’m good.”
I take a quick shower and climb under the covers. It was a long ass day and I’m beat. I wonder how Lance’s night is going. It’s that thought that has me snagging my phone from the nightstand and shooting a text to him.
Me: Little miss go to bed?
I click on his contact info and program his name into my phone. On impulse, I assign him the name of Dr. Daddy.
Dr. Daddy: Apparently, she’s a night owl.
Me: Shitty.
Dr. Daddy: Thankfully a friend stopped by and let me take a power nap.
Me: That’s a real good friend.
Dr. Daddy: He is.
Me: I could come over tomorrow after my shift to help you out again.
Dr. Daddy: You don’t need to do that. I’m sure you have much better things to do on a Saturday night.
Me: Would I sound like a loser if I said no?
Dr. Daddy: Not to me. The only fun I’ve had in over a week is earlier when I took a piss without a baby in my arms.
Me: You win. That’s just sad.
Dr. Daddy: To be honest, I wasn’t much more fun before Lane came.
Me: Well, let’s change that. I’ll bring over dinner tomorrow and if the babe cooperates, we can play Xbox. I saw your Series X earlier.
Dr. Daddy: It’s a plan.
I grin at my phone. I have no business fucking with a man who hasn’t come out to anyone except me and is a new father, but I push aside all rational thoughts. This is innocent enough. Just a couple guys hanging out.
After work, I pick up my favorite fried clams and a couple lobster rolls from Martha Joy’s seafood restaurant. I drove to work today so the food didn’t get cold on the walk to Lance’s place. After I park, I text to let him know I’m here. If Lane’s sleeping, I don’t want to knock and wake her up. He tells me the door’s unlocked.
I take the elevator up and am happy when I don’t hear crying from the other side of his door. I walk in and am surprised to see the place is still clean.
“Hey,” Lance whispers from where he’s spread out on the sofa. Never in my life has the image of a half-naked man with a sleeping baby on his chest been a turn on. But seeing Lance shirtless with Lane on his chest does something to me.
“Hey.” I set the bags of food on the counter. Lance slowly gets up and disappears into his room. He returns seconds later empty handed.
“She go down okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. She’s been up most of the day, so I’m hoping for a couple hours before she wakes for her next feeding.” He shakes his head. “Fuck it’s weird hearing myself say things like that.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Oh my God. Did you get Martha Joy’s?” He opens one of the bags and inhales deeply.
“Hope it’s okay. Didn’t ask if you had a fish allergy.”
“I don’t, and this is my favorite. Thank you.” He beams at me and my fucking heart skips a beat. I’ve spent a year lusting after this man and here I am, in his house, with him standing inches from me with no shirt on. “Mind if we eat in the living room?”
“Nope.”
I close the gap between us and we stand shoulder to shoulder, divvying up the food. When we each have what we want, we take our places on his couch. I could sit in one of the high back chairs, but fuck that. I want to be close to him.
“This is so fucking good,” he says around a mouthful of lobster roll. The way he wraps his lips around it, has my horny brain making the leap to other things I want to see his lips wrapped around. I should’ve jacked off last night.
“I think you’re just sick of Chinese and pizza. I’m assuming that’s all you’ve had in a week since they’re the only two places that deliver.”
“True,” he agrees, shoving more food into his sexy as sin mouth. “But it really is my favorite.”