ask why you're moving?”
I gulped down half the soda. “I can't stay where I'm at. I've gotta be out in a week.”
“Doesn't leave you much time.”
“Yeah. I'll figure something out.”
A timer on the stove chimed. “Bread's up.” Richard gestured to the table behind us. “Have a seat.” He dished out heaping plates of garlic bread and penne pasta covered in a thick tomato sauce before he spoke again. “I realized the other night I don't know your last names. Since we aren't at the club anymore, I'd like us to come clean. My name's Richard Marshall.”
Matthew smiled at Richard. “Matthew Stewart.”
They turned my way.
I hadn't given my last name to any man I'd fucked in years. Couldn't we have started with something like my favorite brand of beer or action flick? But this wasn't a make-some-small-talk-till-you-get-in-his-pants conversation. This was a date. “Luke Moore.”
“Well, Matthew Stewart and Luke Moore, dig in. I hope you like the pasta.” He took a bite and groaned in approval of his own effort. “So, tell me about yourselves.”
No matter what, there were things I wouldn't tell them. Hell, I couldn't think of one thing to say. I stuffed a large forkful of the pasta in my mouth and gave Richard a favorable nod.
Matthew hadn't eaten yet. He looked between me and Richard as if waiting for me to answer or for Richard to encourage me in some way.
“Matthew, where do you work?” Richard asked.
Matthew settled an elbow on each side of his plate. “I work part-time at Champion Music. It's in the Southview mall. I manage the inventory and cover the register when I'm needed. I don't make a lot but enough for now, I guess.”
As each word passed over his lips, I relaxed into the chair.
“I'm thinking about going back to college,” he said, “but I need to save the cash first. I sorta got into some trouble my first semester and I, uh... I had to move back home. I never went back to school.” He shifted in his seat.
“Where do you live?” Richard asked.
Matthew ran a hand through his dark hair. “On the south side near Chesterfield Park.”
“You go pretty far to get to the Haven.”
“Yeah. It works for me. I make the time to get there.”
“I'm glad.”
Matthew ducked his head.
Richard watched him for a moment more, then looked my way. “What do you do?”
I drew in a shaky breath. They had to have heard it, but I couldn't have prevented it. I breathed deep again and did what I had when I was seven years old and went swimming for the first time at my parents’ country club. I squeezed my eyes shut and jumped in before the fear stopped me.
“I'm a developer at Knox Consulting. It's an IT consulting firm.” I shoved the food around on my plate. A solitary piece of pasta stuck to the end of the fork as I twirled the utensil around in the thick sauce. I shook the fork to free the pasta from its prison. It wouldn't budge.
“A rather prestigious firm,” Richard said.
I lifted my head. “Huh? Oh, yeah, they are. It keeps me busy.”
“Not too busy, I hope.” He smirked and took another bite. His tongue snaked out and caught a bead of sauce that lingered on his bottom lip. He winked.
I shook my head. The man never let up.
“Are you a programmer?” Matthew asked.
“Yeah. Mostly Web-based applications for corporations.”
“Cool. The Internet rocks.” He smirked. “I mean, it's how I learned a lot of stuff. I can't imagine what you all did for gay porn when you were teenagers.”
Richard about choked on his food. He downed most of his soda and laughed out loud once he could breathe.
“Well, kid, back in the Stone Age, we had to carve dirty pictures on the cave walls and hope our parents were too busy hunting and gathering to notice.”
Matthew giggled. “You really have your own business?”
Richard wiped his mouth and laid his napkin across his lap. “I do. I started it ten years ago. I own and manage a number of investments, mostly development and real
I gulped down half the soda. “I can't stay where I'm at. I've gotta be out in a week.”
“Doesn't leave you much time.”
“Yeah. I'll figure something out.”
A timer on the stove chimed. “Bread's up.” Richard gestured to the table behind us. “Have a seat.” He dished out heaping plates of garlic bread and penne pasta covered in a thick tomato sauce before he spoke again. “I realized the other night I don't know your last names. Since we aren't at the club anymore, I'd like us to come clean. My name's Richard Marshall.”
Matthew smiled at Richard. “Matthew Stewart.”
They turned my way.
I hadn't given my last name to any man I'd fucked in years. Couldn't we have started with something like my favorite brand of beer or action flick? But this wasn't a make-some-small-talk-till-you-get-in-his-pants conversation. This was a date. “Luke Moore.”
“Well, Matthew Stewart and Luke Moore, dig in. I hope you like the pasta.” He took a bite and groaned in approval of his own effort. “So, tell me about yourselves.”
No matter what, there were things I wouldn't tell them. Hell, I couldn't think of one thing to say. I stuffed a large forkful of the pasta in my mouth and gave Richard a favorable nod.
Matthew hadn't eaten yet. He looked between me and Richard as if waiting for me to answer or for Richard to encourage me in some way.
“Matthew, where do you work?” Richard asked.
Matthew settled an elbow on each side of his plate. “I work part-time at Champion Music. It's in the Southview mall. I manage the inventory and cover the register when I'm needed. I don't make a lot but enough for now, I guess.”
As each word passed over his lips, I relaxed into the chair.
“I'm thinking about going back to college,” he said, “but I need to save the cash first. I sorta got into some trouble my first semester and I, uh... I had to move back home. I never went back to school.” He shifted in his seat.
“Where do you live?” Richard asked.
Matthew ran a hand through his dark hair. “On the south side near Chesterfield Park.”
“You go pretty far to get to the Haven.”
“Yeah. It works for me. I make the time to get there.”
“I'm glad.”
Matthew ducked his head.
Richard watched him for a moment more, then looked my way. “What do you do?”
I drew in a shaky breath. They had to have heard it, but I couldn't have prevented it. I breathed deep again and did what I had when I was seven years old and went swimming for the first time at my parents’ country club. I squeezed my eyes shut and jumped in before the fear stopped me.
“I'm a developer at Knox Consulting. It's an IT consulting firm.” I shoved the food around on my plate. A solitary piece of pasta stuck to the end of the fork as I twirled the utensil around in the thick sauce. I shook the fork to free the pasta from its prison. It wouldn't budge.
“A rather prestigious firm,” Richard said.
I lifted my head. “Huh? Oh, yeah, they are. It keeps me busy.”
“Not too busy, I hope.” He smirked and took another bite. His tongue snaked out and caught a bead of sauce that lingered on his bottom lip. He winked.
I shook my head. The man never let up.
“Are you a programmer?” Matthew asked.
“Yeah. Mostly Web-based applications for corporations.”
“Cool. The Internet rocks.” He smirked. “I mean, it's how I learned a lot of stuff. I can't imagine what you all did for gay porn when you were teenagers.”
Richard about choked on his food. He downed most of his soda and laughed out loud once he could breathe.
“Well, kid, back in the Stone Age, we had to carve dirty pictures on the cave walls and hope our parents were too busy hunting and gathering to notice.”
Matthew giggled. “You really have your own business?”
Richard wiped his mouth and laid his napkin across his lap. “I do. I started it ten years ago. I own and manage a number of investments, mostly development and real
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