Page 18 of Curious

When Owen sat down on the bed and kissed him, it hadn’t felt like a goodbye, and he’d let himself fantasize that it wasn’t. But his absence and the light of day had brought Jeremy’s doubts and fears to the surface, and reaffirmed his decision. There were so many reasons there couldn’t be a repeat performance. Good reasons why he couldn’t let things get sexual again. Their friendship, his close ties with the Finn family...

Those damn suspenders.

He’d never allowed himself to be restrained before. He’d told Owen he didn’t judge, but he couldn’t help wondering what it was that people enjoyed about being on the receiving end of that type of relationship. Being powerless.

Jeremy was always in control. He’d had to be. He’d never had the family life Owen enjoyed. His parents had always been too caught up in their own brawling to express anything but disappointment in their introvert son, who’d spent all his time drawing at the park or buried in a comic book. They’d finally found something they agreed on enough to stop fighting when they caught him in the bathroom with a magazine of male nudes. No son of ours… Insert cliché here.

At fourteen, he’d found himself kicked out of his own house—not that he’d ever felt like he belonged there. The heroes in his favorite stories were usually switched at birth or alien babies from another planet, and he’d spent a lot of time imagining he was too. In fact, the scenarios he dreamed up for his real family were the basis for those first amateurish comics he’d drawn after he moved in with his aunt, a woman who preferred cuddling a bottle to raising a fourteen-year-old boy with sexuality issues.

His dad had shoved him out the door with just enough money to pay part of her rent for a month, and she’d let him stay as long as he worked a part-time job after school and paid enough rent to keep her in wine boxes and forties. But her grungy little studio had never been his home any more than his parents’ house had, which was just one more reason why he’d spent as much time as he could at the Finns’.

That was his life, and Jeremy had dealt with it. He’d worked hard, and with Mr. Finn’s help, he’d won a scholarship for college, majoring in art. Then he’d created the popular series of comic books about a demon on his own in the big city, trying to make amends for his past, and it had taken off right before graduation. Now he owned his own house, had money in savings and didn’t owe anyone a damn thing. Didn’t depend on anyone for his security and well-being.

Except the Finns. He owed them. He depended on them and didn’t know what he’d do without them.

He shook off his guilt and took another drink. For the most part he was independent and in control. And it was the same with sex. He chose his partners and he was always the one to walk away. Tasha was his only exception, but even she respected his tastes when it came to men. He wasn’t one of those submissive males who liked to have his will taken away. He didn’t change himself—shave his fucking beard—just to please his lover.

Until now.

Owen got to him. Made him want to give in to him in a way he never had with anyone before. Jeremy didn’t like it. Didn’t like how close he’d been to begging for that paddle. For Owen’s dick.

And he hated how uncertain he felt the next day. That was new too. The neediness. The self-doubt. It was just sex. He didn’t need comforting after sex, damn it.

So he’d taken the necessary steps. He’d changed the outgoing message on his phone, saying he was drawing on deadline and he’d call back when he could. A few days, maybe a week should be enough, he’d thought. Long enough that it wasn’t so fresh in their minds, and they could put it aside and move on. Tasha’s messages were concerned. Owen’s were frustratingly short and enigmatic. He hadn’t answered either of them, and he’d made sure he was out running errands or grabbing dinner whenever Owen could be driving home from his construction site.

He’d tried to get some work done so he wouldn’t be a liar as well as a coward, but he hadn’t been able to draw a straight line. He also hadn’t come up with any epiphanies or reasonable explanations for what they’d experienced together. If anything, spending the last two days alone had made him feel more vulnerable. More out of control. Owen was all he could think about. Every hour was spent reliving their one night. The things Owen had said. The things he’d done.

When he’d gotten that text a few hours ago telling him to meet here or face the consequences, Jeremy was at the end of his rope. Ignoring Owen wasn’t working, and that message was clear—he wasn’t going to take no for an answer this time.

Maybe he just wanted to assure himself they were still friends, though Owen had never been insecure. Maybe he wouldn’t talk about it at all. It would be better if he didn’t, Jeremy told himself. He could show Owen he was fine, that they could still hang out like they used to and that their friendship hadn’t been irrevocably damaged. That had to be what Owen wanted. For all their sakes.

And then he would go home and find a way to forget how it felt to be with him. How right.

He’d just taken another drink when the man from the end of the bar appeared beside him, leaning his elbow casually on the counter. “I know you saw me and I can feel the ‘stay away’ vibes you’re throwing down, but you look like you could use someone to talk to and you’re too attractive to be sitting alone. Can I buy you another beer?”

He studied the stranger. “Does that line usually work for you?”

The man laughed. “Would I sound arrogant if I said yes?”

Jen was right. He was hot. Young and handsome, with dark eyes that sparkled with interest and an honest, open approach that appealed to Jeremy. He knew instinctively that he could get this man home and out of his clothes in under an hour. Hell, maybe he should. Maybe a one-night stand with someone who knew what they were asking for and could take what Jeremy needed to give was just what the doctor ordered to get his mind off Owen.

He waited for the hum of arousal and excitement that usually came with a potential new conquest, but there was nothing. Jeremy sighed, knowing it wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight. Not for a while. “I appreciate it, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”

“Are you sure?” The stranger lowered his voice and leaned closer. “I am arrogant, but from the look of you I think you’d know exactly how to put me in my place.”

Jeremy chuckled and started to refuse again, but before he had a chance, Owen arrived beside them and beat him to the punch.

“He passed. Weren’t you paying attention?”

The man’s eyes widened slightly and he turned around to see Owen towering over him, his blond hair mussed from the wind, his blue eyes icy and threatening. “You should leave now.”

“I didn’t know this seat was taken,” the man mumbled, throwing money on the bar and walking out of the pub without another word. Jeremy watched Owen glare at his back until he disappeared, more than a little surprised at his reaction.

“Bad day?”

Owen turned back to him and Jeremy actually felt a knot of anxiety forming in his stomach. He did not look happy.

“We need to talk.”

---