Page 7 of Good Friends
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The house had finally gone quiet around three a.m., but Gavin still lay there in bed, wide awake with his brain stuck in fifth gear.
Had he said he wouldn’t want to fuck Porter now?
That was only half true.
He still wanted Porter.Thatwas his problem.
Now that he was back in the States and settled in his new apartment, he couldn’t put off the inevitable thoughts about this whole situation the way he could before.
Before, he could lie to himself and say he had too much going on, had to find a new job, a place to live, get moved—all of that was now done and settled, leaving him with this last unfinished business hanging over his head.
How much of a masochist did he have to be to move back to Florida, anyway?
Less than two hours from where Porter lived and worked.
Wasn’t like he had family here. But this was where one of the jobs was located, and he hadn’t felt like moving to Washington state, Kentucky, or New York, where the other highest-paid job listings were located. He could have gone several other places for far less pay, or for rougher working conditions. Like fricking Alaska.
No thanks.
He’d been lucky to get this job. He loved Florida and didn’t want to live anywhere else. All his friends lived here.
He couldn’t even blame Jayce for this because Jayce had asked if Gavin minded if he slept with Porter, and he hadn’t told him not to.
Mostly because heneverthought Porterwouldsleep with him.
Ew.
The thought of that truly rolled his stomach. In fact, he’d literally been a little sadistic in giving Jayce the green-light, thinking he would come whining back to him that Porter had turned him down.
I thought I knew the guy.
Porter, not Jayce.
Obviously, he didn’t know Porter as well as he thought he had.
It also made him wonder what else he’d missed throughout the years, if there was more to it than just this. Because if he’d calledthatonesofucking wrong…
He’d even got a round of testing a couple of days after landing back in the States, he now felt so paranoid.
How am I supposed to ever trustanyoneagain?
He thought he could trust Porter.
Ofanyone,aboveanyone, he thought he could trust Porter.
So much for trusting myself, too.
Chapter Three
Just after dawn Saturday morning, Porter lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Normally on these weekends he was up until the wee hours of the morning having fun, and then would sleep until late morning, at least.
Especially if Gavin was with him.
Fuck.
He hadn’t slept well at all. Not even angrily flopping onto his back around midnight and pounding out an orgasm to hopefully chill his body the fuck out had helped. He’d still tossed and turned, restless all night.
