Page 140 of The Best Men
Which means I should just make the most of this weekend in New York.
I glance around the shop. The woman is busy with another customer. The music is just the right volume. I step into the dressing room, close the door quietly, and dip my face to his ear. “Don’t make a sound.”
“Actually, I was going to say that to you.”
Then he gets down on his knees and gives me the rest of my shopping fantasy.
* * *
After dinner that night, we walk past a bank. A clock flashes the time in red digits in the ATM lobby.
I look away from the reminder of passing days. So many more months till next summer. Are we doing this for that long? And what isthiseven? I have no idea if he’s going to miss me in the same big way I’ll miss him.
Except, he told me as much last night. He took that risk, and he’s been taking risks left and right with me from the start. “Funny, when I first met you, I thought you weren’t a guy who took risks, but I was wrong about you.”
“You think I take risks?” Mark’s eyes twinkle.
I give him a pointed stare. “You’re here with me. I’d say yes.”
He smiles, like that pleases him. “Maybe I’m learning things about myself with you. But I think you’re wrong about yourself.”
My brow creases. “In what way?”
“You seem to think you’re bad at . . .” He stops, waves a hand from him to me. Maybe he doesn't want to define us either.
“Right.”
“But really, you’re not, Asher. I mean, I’m no expert at . . .” He trails off again. Neither one of us is using labels. “But you rented that hot car, you took me clubbing in Florida, and you stole me away to the beach, and you made a fun thing out of everything. I think you’re pretty good at this . . .”
Fuck labels.
I just want Mark, whatever we are.
But I have no idea how to have him. And we’re both shit at discussing it. So we don’t.
Instead, I handcuff him to the bed later that night and torture him with my tongue until he’s begging for release. And I still want more. More than handcuffs. More than sex.
Just more Mark.
47
MY LIFE IS A FRENCH FILM
MARK
We trudge up the steps to my building on Sunday afternoon.
“Thank you for taking me to the Statue of Liberty, and the Empire State building. But I’d have to say my favorite part of my forty-eight hours in New York has got to be the M&M shop in Times Square. It was a lifelong dream to go there,” Asher replies as we reach the top step.
“Had a feeling you’d love all the tourist traps.”
We did none of those things today. Which made this Sunday another perfect day?filled with sleep, sex, coffee, walking around Manhattan, and Asher.
My . . .
As I unlock the door to my building I wonder once again?what is Asher to me after this weekend? Becauseloveris a weird fucking word to use in any situation except for a French film.
As I wander down the hallway, my chest hollows. Tomorrow, I won’t see him. Or the next day or the next. But I want this life. Hell, I want a weeknight life with him too?seeing him after work, or after Rosie goes to bed. I never thought I’d want that at all.
