Page 11 of Good Friends
Porter was probably still asleep in his room at the Toucan after having donewhoknows what overnight. Emphasis on thewho.
Oh, I canguesswho he did.
Because Jayce had marked that he was going on the Facebook event, too. Gavin had looked.
Jayce can have him.
If only it didn’t sting so fucking much.
Then the bastard has the audacity to call me a couple of weeks ago and ask me if there was something wrong?
For a moment, Kent’s advice to talk to Porter came to mind, and doubts flittered in.
No.Fuckthat. He wasn’t going to drive himself crazy trying to decipher Porter’s motivation here. Porter was the one who always made a big deal about honesty, accountability, not playing mind-games.
About being an adult and acting like one.
He knew Porter was still in some ways mourning Dane, even though that’d been almost nine years ago, and a couple of years before the two of them had moved from best friends to friends with bennies. But whether or not Porter consciously saw it in himself, Gavin did.
Porter’s need to be afixer. It wasn’t just something Porter did as a job repairing airplanes.
He had a tendency to want to step in and fix those he cared about.
Maybe he thinks he can help Jayce or something.
Except it’d be nice ifhewas the one Porter would think about focusing on, for a change.
Why didn’t I just confront him?
Because he’d been down in Costa Rica, that’s why. What good was it being lied to on the phone and assured nothing was going on, just to get home to find out no, he was a gullible jerk? Again?
Because that’sexactlywhat would’ve happened, right?
That’s what he consoled himself with.
He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes to try to go back to sleep but realized that likely wasn’t going to happen.
All he could think about were the times they’d gone to the Toucan together for weekend fun. In the early days it was frequently sexy fun with each other and with others, but had gradually morphed into play and sometimes blowjobs with others but only sex with each other. Then, in the months before Gavin decided to take the job and leave, it’d been play with others occasionally, and only sex with each other.
Gavin didn’t give a shit about play with others. That didn’t bother him. Hell, blow jobs really didn’t bother him, either, especially if they happened during a scene.
Unless it’s a walking petri dish like Jayce.
After a while, he smelled coffee brewing and opted to get up and shower. There was supposed to be another party tonight at Kent’s, and he’d been invited to spend the whole weekend with the men, but he knew he couldn’t.
He wouldn’t be in any better mood tonight than he was last night.
Once he was dressed and had packed his shit, he headed out to the kitchen to find the three men there, Kent and Paul at the table, and Tim, naked except for an apron and leather collar, cooking breakfast.
“There he is,” Kent said. “Feeling any better?”
He headed over to the coffeemaker, where Tim handed him an empty mug. “Not really, no.”
“You up for some unsolicited advice?” Paul asked.
“Sure. Hit me.”
“Call the guy and talk to him. Ask him what the fuck? If nothing else, to bitch him the fuck out and give yourself closure.”
