all.
Michael scrubbed down the counters and popped the sponge in the washing machine. He was in it now, and there was no turning back. Worst-case scenario, Michael would feel like an idiot and he and Nicky would go back to meeting in secret. Best-case scenario?
His imagination didn’t stretch that far.
After fastening the lid on the baking dish, Michael gathered his backpack, keys and wallet. With a reluctant twitch of his lips, he went to the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush and a few supplies. He had no reason to think he’d sleep over. Nicky hadn’t invited him, and Michael couldn’t guess where he’d sleep, but on the off chance Nicky’s house was bigger than Michael imagined, it was best to plan ahead.
Outside, the rental car sat in innocuous silence among the older and more beat-up student cars. The Mazda hatchback wasn’t fancy. In fact, he’d rented it as an economy car, but Michael had to admit it was nice that when he turned the key in the ignition, the car actually started.
The drive to Beacon Hill was an easy shot, and though Michael could have taken surface streets and been just fine, he got on the highway and let the engine open. Fine, he sped a little, but it had been so long since he’d been able to get on the highway and be certain he wouldn’t break down.
A half hour later, Michael pulled up next to the address Nicky had given him. Paint chipped off the front of the house, and the tattered curtains hung in the picture window. Nicky’s motorcycle was the only thing about the scene that was new and clean and shiny.
Michael texted Nicky, saying he was there. After all, Nicky may have changed his mind or decided he wanted to go somewhere with Michael instead. Maybe they’d head to some park, kiss and suck each other to oblivion without having to cross this uncomfortable step of Michael going inside Nicky’s house.
The oddest thing was if they did that, Michael would be let down. He’d driven across town. Fuck it. They were doing this, even if Michael felt like an idiot after.
The door opened, and Nicky jogged down a set of front steps so rickety Michael wasn’t sure they’d hold Nicky’s weight. When Nicky grinned, Michael forgot his hesitations. All he could feel was happy.
“Hey.” Michael closed the hatchback’s door carefully so he didn’t startle anyone inside. Amazingly, the door shut on his first try.
“Hey.” Nicky came to a stop in front of him, gaze darting all over—down Michael’s body, over Michael’s face, like Nicky couldn’t get enough of looking at him. “You came.”
“Yeah.” Michael wasn’t sure why there was so much hope and fear written in Nicky’s expression. He handed Nicky the casserole. “Uh, this isn’t cooked yet, but if you have an oven…”
God, it was stupid to have brought food.
Nicky took a step closer, landing a grateful kiss on Michael’s cheek. “I really appreciate it.” He gestured with the casserole dish, but Michael was pretty sure he meant he appreciated that Michael had showed up. From the state of Nicky’s browned and overgrown front yard, Michael had the sense that not many people visited.
“No worries. Are we going inside?”
“Sure.” Nicky nodded toward the door, and then led the way up the steps. “Excuse the rotten parts. I was going to fix them, but then my mom came down with pneumonia…”
“It’s okay.” Michael hoped Nicky didn’t spend all night self-conscious about where he lived.
The house was built like an old colonial, more common in this part of town than up by where Michael lived, and the front door led into an entryway with a set of stairs heading up the middle.
Straight ahead, Michael saw the white appliances and brighter lighting of a kitchen, while to the right was a doorway to a dark room with a television blaring.
“Come on.” Nicky frowned, his gaze on the floor, but Michael did as Nicky asked, following him into what seemed to be a living room but had been outfitted with a
Michael scrubbed down the counters and popped the sponge in the washing machine. He was in it now, and there was no turning back. Worst-case scenario, Michael would feel like an idiot and he and Nicky would go back to meeting in secret. Best-case scenario?
His imagination didn’t stretch that far.
After fastening the lid on the baking dish, Michael gathered his backpack, keys and wallet. With a reluctant twitch of his lips, he went to the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush and a few supplies. He had no reason to think he’d sleep over. Nicky hadn’t invited him, and Michael couldn’t guess where he’d sleep, but on the off chance Nicky’s house was bigger than Michael imagined, it was best to plan ahead.
Outside, the rental car sat in innocuous silence among the older and more beat-up student cars. The Mazda hatchback wasn’t fancy. In fact, he’d rented it as an economy car, but Michael had to admit it was nice that when he turned the key in the ignition, the car actually started.
The drive to Beacon Hill was an easy shot, and though Michael could have taken surface streets and been just fine, he got on the highway and let the engine open. Fine, he sped a little, but it had been so long since he’d been able to get on the highway and be certain he wouldn’t break down.
A half hour later, Michael pulled up next to the address Nicky had given him. Paint chipped off the front of the house, and the tattered curtains hung in the picture window. Nicky’s motorcycle was the only thing about the scene that was new and clean and shiny.
Michael texted Nicky, saying he was there. After all, Nicky may have changed his mind or decided he wanted to go somewhere with Michael instead. Maybe they’d head to some park, kiss and suck each other to oblivion without having to cross this uncomfortable step of Michael going inside Nicky’s house.
The oddest thing was if they did that, Michael would be let down. He’d driven across town. Fuck it. They were doing this, even if Michael felt like an idiot after.
The door opened, and Nicky jogged down a set of front steps so rickety Michael wasn’t sure they’d hold Nicky’s weight. When Nicky grinned, Michael forgot his hesitations. All he could feel was happy.
“Hey.” Michael closed the hatchback’s door carefully so he didn’t startle anyone inside. Amazingly, the door shut on his first try.
“Hey.” Nicky came to a stop in front of him, gaze darting all over—down Michael’s body, over Michael’s face, like Nicky couldn’t get enough of looking at him. “You came.”
“Yeah.” Michael wasn’t sure why there was so much hope and fear written in Nicky’s expression. He handed Nicky the casserole. “Uh, this isn’t cooked yet, but if you have an oven…”
God, it was stupid to have brought food.
Nicky took a step closer, landing a grateful kiss on Michael’s cheek. “I really appreciate it.” He gestured with the casserole dish, but Michael was pretty sure he meant he appreciated that Michael had showed up. From the state of Nicky’s browned and overgrown front yard, Michael had the sense that not many people visited.
“No worries. Are we going inside?”
“Sure.” Nicky nodded toward the door, and then led the way up the steps. “Excuse the rotten parts. I was going to fix them, but then my mom came down with pneumonia…”
“It’s okay.” Michael hoped Nicky didn’t spend all night self-conscious about where he lived.
The house was built like an old colonial, more common in this part of town than up by where Michael lived, and the front door led into an entryway with a set of stairs heading up the middle.
Straight ahead, Michael saw the white appliances and brighter lighting of a kitchen, while to the right was a doorway to a dark room with a television blaring.
“Come on.” Nicky frowned, his gaze on the floor, but Michael did as Nicky asked, following him into what seemed to be a living room but had been outfitted with a
Similar Books
