Page 13 of Tagging Bases

He runs a hand through his damp hair, breathing heavily. “That was…”

“Yeah.”

I stare up at the exposed beams of my loft’s ceiling and try to catch my breath. The sounds of Bushwick’s nightlife seep through the brick walls, mixing with the hum of my ancient refrigerator and the occasional creak of the building’s old pipes.

“You’re something else, Harrison.”

“I know.”

“I mean, the mouth on you? Damn. Who knew you had that in you?”

“I did. But only when I’m getting drilled.”

Willy’s laugh is a light, tinkling sound that’s almost too delicate for someone who, just moments ago, had been?—

“Can I stay the night?”

Ugh. Why do they always ask this? Every guy wants to stay over, cuddle, and make it more than it needs to be.

My answer isalwaysno. “I have work in the morning.”

His hopeful expression falls.

“We’re hosting a poetry slam tomorrow night,” I explain, even though I don’t have to. “It’s a big deal for my boss.”

A small smile appears on his face as the wheels turn in his head, no doubt calculating his next move. Perhaps if he stays, we can have breakfast together. Then he can walk me to work like a doting boyfriend would.

But we’re not boyfriends. We’re not even friends. We’re a fling, and so my answer is still no.

“I understand.”No, he doesn’t.

Of course, I’m not heartless. “Before you go…” I grab his cock and lower my head, taking him all the way down my throat.

Willy finally leaves,two additional orgasms later. I should be tucking myself in for the longest sleep of my life now, but it’s two in the morning, and I’m wired as fuck.

Turning on the stereo, “Mr. Jones” by Counting Crows fills the room. I walk over to the wide window that spans the entire wall and peer down at the street below. A group of hipsters chain-smokes outside of a dive bar. A food truck dishes out late-night tacos to a line of drunk and hungry patrons. A couple of police officers sit in a police car, idling beneath a streetlamp.

I’ve always had a soft spot for Bushwick at night. The chaos of the neighborhood takes on a different hue afterdark. The murmur of conversations, the clinks of glasses, and the occasional shout all form a soundtrack that makes me feel less alone.

I’ve been living here since I graduated from high school a few years ago. Struggling. Living paycheck to paycheck. Finding fleeting happiness with the Willys of the world.

My phone buzzes on the floor next to the mattress. There’s no bed frame because the instructions were too damn confusing to figure out. I scoop up the phone and glance at the lock screen, even though I already know who’s texting me.

Danielle Nichols, my boss. She’s letting me know when I need to be at work tomorrow because I’ve been late every day for the past two weeks. And even though she’s my best friend, her patience is wearing thin.

I choose to ignore her and hop into the shower. The hot water pounds against my sore muscles, washing away the scent of Willy and the memories of all the other guys that have come before him.

It’s always so easy with them—straightforward, no strings attached—just physical release, and then they’re gone. It’s everything I need to fill the void that’s been expanding inside me since New Year’s Eve. Since that night in the drunk tank.

Since I met…them.

The memory of Charlie and Daniel has been a splinter in my mind, sharp and persistent. Their kisses were a spark of dangerous promise that I’d never experienced before. The suggestion that we all kiss was meant to be a joke, but they took me up on it. Surprising me.

And if I’m not mistaken…surprising them too.

Every time I close my eyes, I feel the ghost of their lips against mine. The taste of cheap beer on my tongue. The heat of their bodies.

The water from my shower runs cold, shocking my skin. I linger for a moment longer, letting the icy cascade numb me before stepping out and dripping onto the concrete floor.

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