Page 11 of Best Friends, Tennessee

“Finn,” Ori said. “He’s started posting about his massage therapy online. He has one follower who comments on every video.”

I ran my hand through my hair. “She’s nice, but a bit cuckoo.”

“Ooh, Finn,” Max said. “You’ve got yourself an e-girl, huh?”

“She’s 82 and she said I remind her of her ex-husband,” I told him. “Not exactly a ‘love is in the air’ situation.”

I’d worked as a professional massage therapist for a few years now after getting my license. I was freelance, and I did in-home massages all around the area.

Some clients were just looking for a relaxing afternoon massage, but lots of them were people with serious injuries from working on local farms, former construction workers with intense strain, or truck drivers with screwed-up posture. I only recorded portions of sessions when clients were okay with it. I was trying to make educational videos about technique, but Ori thought they would make me famous.

I’d never been able to convince him that not everyone wanted to fuck me.

“So are there any eligible gay guys in Bestens yet, other than Mason?” he asked, scanning the room. “I need my dick sucked. I’d even be happy to justsucksomeone’s dick.”

“You want to suck someone’s dick, huh?” I asked. “Any ol’ dick?”

“Maybe notanydick,” he said, a slight smile tugging at his mouth.

I clicked my tongue. “Like I said. You’ll be sicking mine, to thank me for the guest room.”

“I wouldn’t suck your dick if someone held a gun to my head,” Ori said.

I leaned back a little on my chair. “Yeah, that’s a usual occurrence in Bestens now. Someone’s going to come into my house, force me into your room, andkill youif you don’t suck me off.”

Ori stared at me. “You’d put the gun to your own head at the prospect of my mouth around you.”

I ran my thumb through the cold condensation on the outside of my beer glass.

Don’t start saying weird shit.

He just got back to town.

Just fuckin’ chill, hold your horses, and let things simmer.

“Back in town for less than a few hours and you’re already looking for a hookup,” I said, taking a swig of citrusy beer.

“Damn right,” he told me.

God, I fuckin’ envied that.

One thing had been true about Ori forever: he didn’t look for long-term commitment. I wished I could be more like him—wild, free, and up for anything.

He said I was rigid, but really, I was just too…

Fine. Fuck it.

Maybe Iwastoo nice.

Anytime I hooked up with a woman, I felt like I had to give her the full boyfriend treatment, even ifshewas the casual type. I was too old-school, and Ori was anything but.

I got the impression that Ori hooked up with alotof hot guys back in LA. He seemed like he could get action whenever he wanted.

Not surprising. Finally, once we’d left high school, he’d realized how attractive he could be.

A minute later, a Dolly song came on the jukebox, and at last, I had an excuse to get up and blow off some steam.

“Fuck, Ilovethis song,” I said.

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