Page 34 of Cool for the Summer

“Okay.” He smiles hesitantly at me. “Good night, Beck.”

I say goodnight, and he turns to go upstairs. I’m still standing in the kitchen, thinking, when the hallway light goes out a minute later.

FOURTEEN

DONOVAN

I sleep in;the combination of the late hour when Kingston and Sergio left last night and the quantity of beer I drank keeping me in bed until almost eleven.

I feel guilty about letting Beck get up with Cleo this morning. He’s definitely what I would call a morning person, but he was up just as late as me last night. I should offer to take care of her tomorrow—even if I’m planning another late night tonight.

I’m looking forward to hitting up Sparkle and seeing if there’s anyone remotely interesting in this corner of rural New England. Maybe getting laid will get my mind off Beck, and how every day I spend near him, I find him more attractive, not less. And I found him pretty attractive to begin with.

But even if I like the guy and find his Martha Stewart-meets-Michael Phelps vibe weirdly hot, nothing’s changed. We live together, and neither of us wants to mess up the good thing we have going. Hence, finding someone else to work out my physical needs with.

Part of me can’t help imagining what it might be like with Beck, though. Would he be shy, the way he unexpectedly is sometimes, or would he be as passionately all-in as he is when he’s trying a new recipe or trouncing me in a hand of poker? I’ve seen him nearly naked in his ridiculously small excuse for a bathing suit a handful of times at the pool, but I don’t know how sensitive his tight little nipples are, or how his more-than-adequate package, from the looks of things, would feel in my hand.

And now I’m hard in the shower, washing my hair and thinking about my roommate, of all people. Right, roommate, that’s why we’re not ending our swimming sessions by making out on the deck chairs, jerking each other off poolside. Pete and Jack would probably appreciate it if they knew we weren’t fucking all over their house.

Pete and Jack. Their likely disapproval is another reason to keep my hands to myself, even as right now in the shower I can’t keep from stroking my cock, wondering if Beck would be mad if I just bent him over the kitchen counter in the middle of one of his cookie baking marathons.

Before I know it, I’m coming as I imagine it’s Beck bringing me off, tasting my come on his fingers and declaring it better than his last batch of batter.

I feel strange after I finish washing and turn off the shower tap. There are so many reasons not to hook up with Beck, but that doesn’t seem to matter much to my libido, which doesn’t feel sated at all.

There better be some passably hot, willing guys at Sparkle tonight, or I’m going to explode.

When I finally drag myself downstairs, Beck’s seated at the island, hunched over his laptop. Cleo trots up to me and sniffs my hand.

“Good morning,” Beck calls absently. “I fed her, but she could probably use some exercise.”

“I’m on it. Any coffee left?”

“Actually, no. But I made muffins.”

I snag one and bite into it, cranberry and lemon bursting tangy sweet on my tongue. “Yum,” I say with my mouth full. “What did you do, drink the whole pot?” I ask after I swallow and Beck still hasn’t looked up from his screen.

He winces. “Yeah. I’ve been up for a while. Sorry.”

“No worries.” I remember what Pete said about taking Cleo on the walk in the woods and figure today’s a good day to try it. I can get something at Hot Brew on the way. “Wanna take Cleo for a walk? I thought we could try out the loop in the woods Pete mentioned.”

He looks up at that. “No, you go ahead. I have a call with Sergio’s real estate agent in a bit. Oh, I was thinking fajitas for dinner.”

I finish the muffin in two bites. “Fajitas sound amazing. Why do you have a call with Sergio’s real estate agent?”

His sky-blue eyes gleam with excitement. “I’m taking your advice. Taking my first step toward what I want. I’m going to get some information on retail spaces in Rosedale and on that abandoned house on Turner Street.”

“Wait—what?” I’m not really following the logic. “This sounds more like a huge leap than a step, Beck.”

The excitement in his eyes dims and I immediately curse myself for doing anything to dampen his enthusiasm. Just because the things he’s talking about seem wildly unattainable doesn’t mean I should throw cold water on him. How many of my friends thought me being an actor was an impossible dream?

“I’m just gathering information,” he says with a trace of defensiveness in his voice.

“No—no, that’s great,” I say, backpedaling awkwardly. “Really. I know you love that house. Might as well see what the deal is, right?” Privately, I can’t imagine that even if it was for sale that a guy who isn’t employed and basically lives out of his car could buy it, but I don’t say anything.

“Why do you want to know about retail spaces?” I ask, grabbing a second muffin. These things are delicious—fluffy and light. I wish I had some coffee to go with them, but I’m too lazy to start the machine.

“Oh. Well. I saw this empty storefront on Main Street yesterday and it just…got me thinking,” Beck says. He stands up and away from his computer, runs a hand through his hair, which makes the blond strands stick up like a baby chick’s fluffy feathers. He seems so young sometimes, but he’s not a kid. I repress the urge to pat down his hair. Touching him seems like a bad idea, given what I’ve just been fantasizing about in the shower.

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