Something about his father, I thought to myself. It was just an offhand remark, but I sensed there was more there.
“Stand up,” I said as I rose to my feet.
Asher cocked an eyebrow from the couch. “What? I told you I’m fine.”
“Come on,” I said with a nod. “Stand up.”
Asher glanced at Frankie, who stood to join me. Asher sighed, then pulled the sheet back and rose to his feet.
The sweat had dried on his lithe, muscular body. The soft lighting in the room cast shadows across his tattoos, obscuring the dark shapes. Asher stood with his feet a couple of feet apart and his hands hanging loosely by his side.
“Straighten your back,” I said.
Frankie took in a deep breath, straightening his own back to demonstrate, and Asher followed along.
“Good boy,” I said.
Asher’s cock twitched, half-hard between his legs, but he didn’t lose his composure. His eyes were straight ahead and his chin up, just like I instructed.
Frankie threw his arm around my waist, and I stretched along his shoulders, pulling him close. We both stood like that, drinking Asher in with our eyes while he held his composure.
“Why do you like Asher?” I asked Frankie. “Why does he matter to you?”
Frankie smiled. “Because he makes me laugh, and he makes me do things I never thought I would do. His energy is exciting, but it’s not like he’s unfocused. I always notice him taking care of small details with the jobs we do, treating things better than I would treat them myself.”
“He’s conscientious,” I agreed. “I like that, too.”
Asher’s lip twitched; then he bit down on it. His eyes were alert and clear, like I could feel whatever was brewing inside of him.
“I like how happy he makes you,” I agreed. “He makes me happy, too. And I like that he brings out a side in each of us that we don’t usually see. But I also like him because I trust him.”
A tremble went down Asher’s body, but still, he kept his head up.
“I trust him, too,” Frankie agreed.
“Do you know why I trust you, Asher?”
He shook his head but didn’t say a word.
“I trust you because I know you want to do good,” I told him. “I can see it in your eyes. There’s a world of difference between someone who wants to be good and someone who thinks they’re good but only acts out of self-interest.” I clasped his shoulder and squeezed hard. “I can see that you’re trustworthy, Asher, because I can see that you care.”
He nodded very slowly, the raindrops still tapping softly on the window beside us.
“You’re not your father,” I said. The words came out of me so quickly, I didn’t really think about them. But somehow, they still felt right. Necessary, even. “You are your own man.”
Asher sucked in a breath, then finally fell forward, landing between Frankie and me. We held him from each side while he squeezed back. The tension in his back told me that he was still holding something back, fighting his way from the edge of tears.
But one thing had definitely changed. For once, Asher wasn’t running away.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you both for saying that.”
“Don’t you worry, Asher,” Franklin said, patting his back. “We’re here for you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Asher
Friday afternoon came along, and I was feeling pretty damn good about myself.
It definitely had something to do with my last date with Franklin and Rory. I didn’t know what the hell inspired those guys to give me compliments like they had, but fuck!
Did that ever feel good.
It’s not like it was a total shock. Franklin and Rory saw that I was feeling something, and so they decided to try to help me out. It was totally in-character Franklin and Rory behavior, and I knew they would have done it for just about anyone.
I just happened to be the lucky guy getting their attention that night.
That wasn’t the only reason I was riding a high. I was about to spend the weekend building the display with Franklin and putting a solid few hundred bucks in my pocket, too. It was a far cry from the cash bundles I was pulling in LA, but it felt good to earn some money aboveboard.
And, of course, there was one other reason I was feeling myself that Friday afternoon. Lying on the bed and dripping sweat, I finally pulled my butt plug out, groaning when it slipped out of my grip.
“Oh fuck,” I moaned, rubbing my fingers against my abdomen and the sticky mess of cum I’d made. “Three in a row, hot damn.”
I hopped out of bed and immediately started revisiting my favorite fantasies, like the one where they took me up to their bedroom and had their way with me all night long. After shoving on a pair of jeans and zipping up my black hoodie, I bothered Lilith in the kitchen while I ate a couple peanut butter sandwiches, then drove across town to meet up with Daryl.
With the help of Franklin and Rory, I was starting to understand what real friendship looked like, and it was a hell of a lot different than the way Daryl treated me. Going back to him felt like going back to smoking cigarettes, a vice I should have learned to leave behind. But outside of Lilith, he was my only real link to my past, and I guess I was still scared to let that go.
Scared shitless, if I were honest with myself, that I might end up alone at the end of the day.
It was only six o’clock, but with fall on, it was already getting dark in Seattle. Daryl had texted me the address of another shitty bar on the edge of town, and I knew I was going to end up having to take the bus home again after drinking too much.
Why that asshole can’t just come chill at Lilith’s bar…
I pulled up to the place he was waiting, a little joint tucked behind a diner. Daryl was right by the front entrance to the bar smoking a cigarette, and I spun my car in an eight across the nearly empty lot, just to show him I still had it in me.
“What’s the draw this time?” I asked, gesturing at the run-down bar when I jumped out of the car. “This looks like someone tried to remodel an ancient Burger King.”
He tossed his cigarette on the ground, then blew smoke out the side of his mouth. “What? You want to go to some popular bar? Run into someone we grew up with?”
I held a finger in the air, then laughed.
“Guess not,” he answered, then pulled me into the bar.
A part of me had considered making an excuse that night, telling Daryl I was sick or something. I had new things going for me, after all, and Franklin said there might even be more work building displays with him, assuming things went right.
I wanted to stay on my game and keep focused on what I had here in Seattle. But even though Daryl was bad news, I also knew he’d be leaving back for California soon.
“You fuck me up, man,” I said, staring at him across our booth in the back of the bar after we got our pitcher. “But you’re my best friend, you know that?”
Daryl scoffed, then threw back his whiskey shot, washing it down with the amber beer. “Whatever, man.”
I was being way more sentimental than we ever acted. I couldn’t blame him for changing the subject. I guess I was just in a mood or something.
“You going to stay safe once you get back there?” I said. “Promise me you won’t work with Polly or Maxwell. And never get in a car that Emil is driving. Even if you’re just going to the store. He couldn’t drive his way out of a paper bag.”