Chapter 3

Three

OLIVER

I wake several hours later to the sun shining through the bedroom curtain and blink, then jolt when I feel a warm, very naked body against mine and hard cock pressing against my arse. Memories from the previous night flood my mind and I slide out of my companion’s embrace as carefully as I can so as not to wake him. In the light of day, the realization of what I have done crashes into me and I start to panic. It’s not just the fact that I slept with another person when I have a girlfriend waiting for me in Scarsdale that terrifies me. It’s the fact that that other person was a man.

So why did I do it? I wish I could blame it on the alcohol, but I can’t. The truth is, I did it because I wanted to. And maybe because if sleeping with a man didn’t turn out to be everything I’d ever imagined it to be, I could move on. Move on from these ideas and dreams of finding another man to share my life with. Marry Amanda and forget that I ever wanted something different.

But that backfired so horrifically because it wasn’t terrible at all. It was incredible. It was everything.

Christ, I can’t stay here. I have to get home and cleaned up and changed before I start work. Before I see Amanda again.

Christ, Amanda. I dig through the pile of clothes on the floor and find my phone in my trouser pocket, pulling it out. Looking at the screen, I have twelve missed texts and calls from her and another six from my father. I groan quietly and run a hand through my hair.

Fuck. What have I done? I’ve always considered myself a decent man. I’ve never cheated on any of my previous girlfriends. Not that there were many. I certainly didn’t enter that bar last night with the intention of cheating, but I did.

I look back at the sleeping man who fucked me so good I can still feel his cock inside me. My body shudders remembering the words he spoke, how he praised me. I’d never had someone talk to me like that before and I loved it, more than I care to admit. Loved the feeling of being filled, of submitting. It was freeing, to let go.

I know I told him I would stay and shower, and have breakfast with him, but one look at him rumpled and dozing under the sheets and I know I can’t. I’ve already fucked up so much in the last twenty-four hours, I can’t do it again.

So what if it was the best sex I’ve ever had. It was just an experiment. Nothing more. A way to relieve stress.

So why is it so hard to leave, knowing I will probably never see him again? Shouldn’t see him again. I ache to touch him, to run my fingers through his golden hair, to see those beautiful blue eyes looking back at me, that smile on his handsome face.

But I don’t touch him. I don’t speak. I stand and pull my briefs on, then my trousers. Telling myself I am doing the right thing, even though it feels very much like leaving him is the biggest mistake of my life.

God, my clothes reek of sex. I have to get home and cleaned up before someone sees me. I should never have been here. I can’t be here.

I’m shaking as I button my shirt and tuck it in, then buckle my belt. I grab my phone and even though I want to leave my number and a note, telling him where he can find me or asking him if he wants to do this again, because I would gladly drive an hour to be with him a second time, I don’t do that either. I slip out of the room and close the door behind me. The apartment is silent as I make my way towards the front door. I slide my shoes on, make sure I have my keys and wallet, and then make my way out of the building, my chest aching the entire three flights of stairs down to my car.

When I get inside I close the door, and hands shaking, I pick up my phone, then take a deep breath and press call. Amanda’s sunny voice greets me on the other end and I have to rub my chest as the ache inside deepens.

“Oliver?” she says. “Oh my God, are you okay? I called you a dozen times and texted you and you didn’t answer. I was getting worried.”

“I’m alright, love,” I tell her. “Just tired. I had a long day at work yesterday and went to bed early.”

“You sound a little funny,” she says, and I chuckle. It’s not humorous, at all, really, the situation, but I don't know what else to do. It’s either that or scream.

“I’m okay,” I say again. “Listen, would you want to get dinner tonight? Someplace special?”

“Ooh, I would love that. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Absolutely,” I lie. “Pick you up at eight?”

“Okay,” she says, a smile evident in her voice. I hang up and feel tears sliding down my cheeks as I pull out of the lot.

I pull myself together before I ring Father.

“It’s about time,” he snarls. “Where do you and your sister get off, treating your mother like that? We raised you to respect your elders, and I will not tolerate?—”

“Father, I’ve decided to ask Amanda to marry me,” I interrupt.

There’s silence for a beat before he replies. “Well, I see you took to heart what your mother and I said last night. Glad to hear it. You’ll be bringing her around for dinner soon, then, I take it. I’ll have your mother tell Hannah to prepare something special for the occasion.”

“That would be nice, Father, thank you.”

“In light of the good news I suppose we can put last night’s behavior behind us. You really ought to have a talk with your sister, though, Oliver. I fear she’s becoming too autonomous, now that she is on her own, with no man to guide her.”

“Of course, Father.”

“We’ll see you and Amanda in a month, then.”

“Yes, Father.” I hang up my phone and wipe more tears from my cheeks.

It’s shortly after I arrive back at my apartment that my phone rings again. I answer when I see it’s my sister calling.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Oliver, I hear congratulations are in order.” Her tone is more reserved than congratulatory, though.

“Christ, has Mother been spreading the word already? I only just told Father an hour ago. And I haven’t even popped the bloody question yet.”

“But you’re planning to, soon?” she asks.

“Very soon, in fact,” I tell her, shutting the door behind me and setting my keys on the hook inside, before toeing off my dress shoes. Why does the thought of washing these clothes make my chest ache? My trousers have precum on them that leaked through when that beautiful boy was touching me, kissing me, kissing my cock through them, and it made me so unbelievably hard I thought I might come before he’d even gotten them off. Everything I’m wearing smells of his apartment, his room. I don’t even want to shower because this is a scent I want to remember for the rest of my life. Christ, that sounds insane, but it’s true.

“And this is what you really want?” she says.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I reply.

“No reason. I just want you to be happy, Oliver. If Amanda makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. Though I’m not even certain she’ll say yes.”

“I guess you’ll find out.”

I manage a small smile. “I guess I will.”

HUNTER

Three months later

“Hey, you heading out soon?”

I turn to see my friend and roommate, Matt standing outside my door, his hand on the frame. He’s tall. Taller than me, with curly brown hair and deep brown eyes.

“Yeah.” I turn back to my empty suitcase and sigh, and a minute later jump when I hear his voice next to mine.

“You do realize that in order to pack, you actually have to put things in your suitcase.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You can go back where you came from,” I reply, and he laughs.

“Seriously, dude, you’ve been in a funk for weeks. Months. Going home, getting a change of scenery, taking that trip, it’ll be good for you. You and your mom get along well enough, don’t you?”

I nod. We’re relatively close, since we’ve only ever had each other, and she’s always been accepting of me being gay. She had me when she was only eighteen and worked her butt off, even with a toddler, to put herself through college and law school. She’s been a lawyer in Scarsdale for twelve years. She’s kind of a badass, actually.

She got engaged to her boyfriend almost three months ago now and she wants me to come home and meet him before the wedding. They have a road trip planned that I’m supposed to join them on so we can bond before the big day. I’m not opposed to it necessarily, I just think it seems a little fast.

“Yeah, we do,” I say, “I’m just feeling kinda weird about everything. Don’t you think it’s a bit soon to get engaged when you’ve only dated for four months? And the wedding is in two months. Isn’t that fast?”

Matt shrugs. “Beats the hell out of me. My parents were engaged after six months. I don’t think there’s a timeline for these things. Just whatever works for the couple.”

I sigh. “Maybe you’re right,” I admit. I’ve been stuck in my head ever since I woke up to find that the sexy British man from the bar had left without saying goodbye, or even leaving a note, or his number. He was just gone. I told myself it wasn’t a big deal. It was just sex, but that didn’t explain how I’d found myself lying in bed with tears sliding down my cheeks at the realization that I would never see him again, and that apparently, he had no desire to see me again.

Fuck, my eyes are tearing up at the memory and I wipe at them quickly before Matt can see. It’s been three fucking months and I still can’t get him out of my head.

“Hey,” he says, placing his hand on my shoulder, “that guy was a douche, okay? He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Yeah,” I say. So why can’t I move on from him? Why is he in my every waking thought? Why have I had to convince myself that driving to Scarsdale to search for him isn’t a good idea? I’ll be close enough now that I’m going back home, but what are the chances of me running into him there? It’s not a huge town but it’s not a tiny one, either. And I have no idea where to start looking, or what I’d even say if I found him. I’d look so pathetic. He let me fuck him once, for Christ’s sake, and he doesn’t owe me anything.

I’ve never been so hung up on someone before. It’s pissing me off. I’ve tried fucking other people the last few months, and all it’s done is make me want him more, because no one else compared to what it was like with him.

“Here, I’ll get you started,” Matt says, and moves over to my nightstand. He opens it and takes out the box of condoms, a couple of different dildos, a prostate massager, and a bottle of lube, and then moves back over to the suitcase and drops them inside. “There, that’s the essentials. You can do the rest.” He grins at me and I can’t help smiling.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll be back in thirty minutes to make sure you’re actually packed.” He pats my shoulder and walks away.

I take a deep breath and let it out, then move to my dresser. Besides the fact that Mom wants me to meet her fiancé, Oliver, I also don’t have a job right now since the bar I work at, Dave's , is having some renovations done and is closed for the next month. Honestly it’s the perfect time for me to go home. Fortunately, even with the lack of a job I’m still getting paid.

“Time’s up!” Matt calls twenty five minutes later, as he wanders into my room for the second time.

I turn to him and gesture to my fully packed suitcase, even managing a smile. Then tuck the hair that has slid out of my messy bun behind my ear. He grins at me.

“Good, now get lost. Scram, skedaddle, and don’t come back without having used all the supplies in that suitcase.”

I roll my eyes as I head towards the front door. “Tell Sam I say goodbye and I’ll see you guys in a month?”

“Sure thing, man,” Matt says, and waves as I close the door behind me.

An hour later, I’m pulling into the driveway of my childhood home. A two story with light blue siding and white brick, and a wood burning fireplace and hardwood floors throughout. It’s not huge, but it was perfect for Mom and me. Three bedrooms and two and half bathrooms. Cozy and quaint. The bedroom downstairs is used as an office, while the Master bedroom and my bedroom are on the second floor.

I take a deep breath as I prepare myself to meet this Oliver guy, who apparently swept Mom off her feet in a short amount of time. We don’t talk on the phone a ton, but when we do she gushes over him, and I know they’ve been living together since they got engaged, maybe even before that, so I’m expecting him to be here.

I’m trying to stay positive, to put on a good face and give this guy a chance. If Mom likes him he must be decent. And she hasn’t been married before. My sperm donor father knocked her up and disappeared, so it’s just been the two of us since, and while she’s dated, she never found a guy who actually appreciated her intelligence and hard work. Until now, I guess.

The last thing I want to do is rain on their parade, no matter how miserable I feel. It’s not about me. So I climb out of my car, determined to be happy for them, and grab my suitcase from the trunk.

Trudging up the driveway in the thousand degree July heat, I make my way up the steps and turn the doorknob. “Mom!” I call, stopping just inside the doorway and closing the door behind me.

“Hunter?” Mom says from in the kitchen, then races in to throw her arms around me in a tight hug. I smile and hug her back, drinking in the scent of her lemon and raspberry body wash. I hug her tighter. I didn’t realize how much I needed a hug until I got one. “It’s so good to see you,” she coos.

“You, too,” I say, pulling away.

“Thank you for coming. It really means a lot to both of us. Come meet Oliver. He’s in the kitchen.” I nod and follow her through the living room and towards the back of the house.

When I stop in the doorway to the kitchen I halt and my heart rate skyrockets. I must be seeing things, but from the back he looks just like?—

“Amanda, love, where’s the basil for the sauce?” I hear in a voice that sounds scarily familiar. My heart is pounding now as blood rushes to my ears.

“Oliver,” Mom says, and he turns. The blood drains from my face as I stare at cobalt eyes, auburn hair, and a freckle-scattered face. He’s staring back at me with the same bewilderment on his face that I’m sure is present on mine, before he steels himself and holds out his hand.

“Hello,” he greets me like we’ve never met before. Like he wasn’t moaning underneath me three fucking months ago. Like he didn’t beg me to fuck him and then fucking leave my aparment without a word the next morning. Rage ignites inside me, quickly followed by terror and disgust as I realize there’s no way he wasn’t cheating on Mom that night.

The fucking bastard. Mom is crazy about this guy and he’s a two timing son of a bitch, who lied to me, and fuck, I slept with my mother’s boyfriend.

“Nice to meet you, Oliver ,” I say, enunciating his name harshly, and he flinches as I shake his hand, squeezing hard enough that hopefully it hurts, before I turn back to Mom. “I’m not feeling so well all of a sudden. I think I’m going to go lay down for a while.”

“Oh, okay,” she says. “We’ll save you some dinner. Oliver is a wonderful cook.”

“Oh, I bet he is,” I say under my breath, before heading around the hall and up the stairs to my old room, shutting the door behind me. I grip a pillow off the bed and hold it to my face before I fucking scream.