Page 10 of Saddle Studs
“Oh, Benny, I’m so sorry.”
Sam reached out and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. He squeezed. The warmth returned, this time spreading outward, down my back. God. Sam hadn’t touched me since…
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
“Thanks,” I said. His hand remained on my shoulder. I chose to stay put, even though I knew that taking a step back and breaking the connection was the smarter thing to do. Sam’s touch was dangerous. Intoxicating. And something I had to consider forbidden.
Unless…
Could things have changed? It had been eight years since I last saw him. A lot could have happened during that time. A couple of dicks could have found their way between Sam’s lipsand helped him come out of the closet. I glanced down at his left hand, not seeing a ring. At least he was still single.
Not that it mattered.
Forbidden. Off-limits.
“Your room is going to be this one,” I said, finally finding the willpower to step away from his touch. I moved down the hall toward a closed door. Directly next to it was another, this one with a saddle hanging on the front. Each of the siblings had something on their bedroom doors.
A saddle was mine.
“Next to yours, huh?” Sam said.
“You remembered.” Not that I should have been surprised, we had spent many summer afternoons in my room playing video games, board games, talking shit, and hanging out.
“I didn’t just wake up from a coma, you know.”
“So, the glassy look in your eyes is just because?”
“Shut up, I don’t have glassy eyes.” Sam craned his neck and looked at his reflection in the glass of a framed painting of a rainbow-bright field of wildflowers. “Do I?”
I laughed, glad I could still get a little rise out of Sam. That was always fun. He could take a joke just as well as he could volley them back. “No,” I reassured him. “Your eyes are as bright blue and sharp as always.”
“Bright blue, huh?”
“Sorry, I meant cloudy blue.”
“That’s…” He narrowed those beautiful golden-brown orbs of his. “I’m going with bright blue. You said that first.”
I chuckled and opened the door to his bedroom. Of course it would be the one directly next to mine, so that only a thin wall would separate us. What could possibly go wrong?
“Cozy,” Sam said. He pushed his busted suitcase into the room. “I love it.”
“I also decorated this room. Chose the paint and bed frame. That lamp is an antique, used to belong to a famous French artist. I know that because there was a note written by his lover and kept in that little pull-out piece at the base. Oh, and those two ottomans are custom made.”
“Damn, Benny, you really do have a talent for design. I’m going to have to hire you to redo my apartment back in the city.” He walked to the window and spread the white curtains. Sunlight dappled the bedroom, filtered by the leaves of a tall oak tree that provided near-permanent shade. Sam took a moment to look out the window, hands resting on the scuffed windowsill. His blue jeans cupped his ass just right, making my mouth water.
Fucking hell. Why did it have to be the straight guys who always had the biggest asses?
“Where are you living now?” I asked, pulling my attention from his peaches as he turned to face me.
“I’m in Jersey. Moved there after college. I got a job in New York—hada job in New York.” He shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. I cocked my head, sensing something heavy settle into the room.
I sat at the edge of the bed, the fluffy white comforter sinking underneath my weight. “What happened?”.
“I’d rather not talk about it right now.”
Damn. Whatever it was had clearly rocked him. I flashed back to being in high school together, to having this protective instinct over Sam. I was usually the one who was more confrontational, more ready to tussle if it meant putting some jackass bully in their place. It was a way of protecting myself. I always knew I was gay, and I did little to hide that fact once I actually accepted it. It wasn’t an easy road, and there were a few fist fights and meetings with parents to sort things out at school, but it taught me how to fight for myself.
And fight for others, too.
