Bad Boyfriend (22 page)

Quinn must have been coming too, because his hand was tight around Eli’s cock and his voice turned into hoarse wordless sounds against Eli’s wet skin, his hipbones jerking against Eli’s ass.

Quinn rolled away for a second but was back before Eli’s skin could start to cool, wrapping him up in a tangle of sweaty arms and legs.

As Eli drifted in a post-come, almost-asleep haze, he decided a glacier would meet its match in Mount Quinn. No matter what kind of storm Eli threw at him, Quinn was solid enough to wait him out.

Chapter Fifteen

Like the mountain Eli sometimes thought of him as, Quinn wasn’t particularly subtle. But that was okay, because Eli wasn’t either. On Monday, Eli made two trips down to the apartment to rescue clothes in his laundry bag and backpack. He didn’t have any furniture apart from the mattress on the floor and a lamp that was enough of a fire hazard that he was glad to leave it behind. The only reason he had so many clothes was that he’d lived in that apartment longer than any place else since the breeders had kicked him out. He already had his phone and his camera.

On the second trip on Monday, a cute gym bunny on the bus cruised him all the way up to Park Heights Avenue. Eli pretended not to notice. It wasn’t too hard sticking to one flavor of man when that flavor was Quinn.

He put the stuff in the spare room Quinn had upstairs, but he had to be aware of the appearance of more and more clothes around the bedroom they were sharing. Eli couldn’t miss the appearance of local college brochures either, brochures that had really crappy photos on them. He wasn’t thinking about going back to school, but maybe they’d give him a little cash if he took some pictures that made the campus look like someplace rational people would be willing to send their kids—and that rational kids born in the nineties would consider attending.

He was flicking through some digital images on Quinn’s very nice laptop when his phone rang with Nate’s ringtone.

“If you’re not too busy playing naughty nursing-home aid with the old man, I’ve got something for you down at the office.”

“A job?” Pointing out that Nate was only five years younger than Quinn wouldn’t do anything but encourage him.

“Better. Money. The check from the article on the summer homeless we sold to
Time
finally showed up. Your share is twelve hundred.”

Twelve hundred dollars. Eli knew what the contract had said, but it had taken so long for all the accounting to go through, Eli had stopped waiting for it. He could have made rent after all—last month’s too.

“I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

A week later, Eli was still staring at the check. The check that had come with a letter from the editor, from the fucking editor of
Time
, saying he’d be interested in considering other pieces of Eli’s work. And if that wasn’t enough to convince Eli that if nothing else he’d be able to pay his cell phone bills for a year, he got a return email from the PR guy at the local college. The first one Eli had contacted, because based on the brochure the place had been marketing itself as a teen convent. The email was an offer of thirty dollars each for five of his photos. Where the fuck were all these offers the last miserable five months of his life?

Over thirteen hundred wasn’t really anything to wave around, but it beat his previous checking balance of twenty-eight dollars—and that was only because a careful search of Quinn’s couch cushions had turned up enough bus fare to save Eli from having to make a trip to the bank. The ATM wouldn’t give him cash anymore.

Quinn had said he’d be home late, so Eli spent the rest of the afternoon window-shopping online. Not that he was able to buy anything—like a scooter that would make it so much easier to get downtown than the long walk and really long bus ride—but independent transportation didn’t seem that far away anymore.

Quinn had put this off too long. Not that he needed closure. Watching Peter put the ring on Chrissy’s finger had been closure enough. Quinn knew Eli had been right about Peter cheating. He’d tried to forget about it, knew he didn’t owe either of them anything, but the very real threat of Peter passing something like HIV to his unsuspecting wife—who could pass it to the baby—stirred some obligation to at least tell Peter the game was over.

It wasn’t hard to find a time when Peter would be home alone. If it was possible, Claire would have the calendar of everyone she knew merged on her Facebook page so she could keep tabs on her kingdom. Peter wasn’t working, Chrissy and Gabe were at Mommy and Me Yoga.

Quinn found Peter on a ladder in the back, stapling plastic sheeting over the screened-in deck to winter-proof it.

“Hold that for me.” Peter pointed with the staple gun at the side edge where the plastic was trying to twist. No
hi
, no
what are you doing here
. Like Quinn was still an everyday part of Peter’s life. How had Quinn let this happen?

“No. Get off the ladder.”

“What the fuck, Quinn? I’m busy.”

He was only up three feet. Quinn kicked a rung. “Get down.”

“You’re fucking nuts.” Peter climbed down. “What’s going on?” He threw the staple gun on the roll of plastic and ran a hand through his hair. “This is because of that kid you’re fucking. He told you some bullshit about me and you actually believe him.”

“Christ, Peter, why would you even think that if it wasn’t true? How the fuck do you manage to fool everyone when you’re such a moron?”

Peter kicked the plastic down the slope of the yard then stood facing away for a few minutes. When he spoke, his voice was flat. “Come into the house.”

Quinn ignored Peter’s effort to move them to the living room and stood in the kitchen while Peter paced around.

“This isn’t easy. Don’t fucking think I’ve got it easy,” Peter burst out.

Quinn folded his arms and leaned back against the counter.

“I was jealous, okay? At first I thought it had to be some kind of joke, but then when I saw you with him here—I thought if I pissed him off or put him off you, I wouldn’t have to see that anymore.”

“You think watching you get married was easy? Lying all this time?” Damn, Peter was too good at twisting things around. This wasn’t about what Peter had done to him, it was about what he was doing to risk the health and safety of his wife and baby. “Besides your bullshit excuse only works if you hadn’t been slutting around Grand Central. Christ, you pretended all those years to not even know where the bars were. Swore you’d never set foot in one.”

Peter came to a stop in front of him and grabbed on to Quinn’s arms so suddenly he didn’t try to stop him. “Because I miss you. I didn’t think—” Peter swallowed hard. “I thought if I did it right, had a family I wouldn’t still—”

“Be gay?”

“I’m not gay.” Peter’s fingers dug in tighter. Quinn didn’t move. “I like sex with guys sometimes. But you—it wasn’t—” Peter released his grip and walked away.

Quinn watched in silence. His chest was empty. Even pity felt a long way away.

“I’m not a total bastard. I know I’ve fucked everything up. There’s got to be a way to work this out.”

“What? Have your cake and eat it too? Live with your wife and child and come see me when you need a little something extra?”

The sudden look of hope on Peter’s face made Quinn laugh. “No. Never. Not the slightest bit interested.”

“Because of that piece of ass you picked up? Are you thinking of going straight? God, he’s practically a girl, Quinn.”

“Not at all. He’s all man.” Quinn smiled.

“You’d be a bitch for something like that?”

Quinn pushed away from the counter and shoved Peter into the table. “Call him a thing again and I will punch the words out of your mouth along with your teeth. Is that really what you thought of what we did? Being a bitch for each other?”

“No.” Peter tried a smile. It made Quinn’s skin crawl. “Can’t you see how jealous I am? Doesn’t that prove how much I miss you?”

“I don’t care what you prove, Peter. And I don’t care how much of a whore you want to be to prove how not gay you are. But it’s not just you. It’s Gabe. I made a promise to God and that child and it wasn’t only to see him confirmed.”

“What does this have to do with Gabe?”

“Besides the possibility of having divorced parents? Trust me, I see what parents can do to a kid. But if you pick up the wrong guy and pass HIV on to Chrissy, she could pass it to Gabe—or the next kid.”

“I’m not stupid enough to take that kind of risk.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“It wouldn’t even be an issue if you’d—”

“If I’d go back to fucking you instead? Do you even hear yourself?” This was too much. Quinn started for the door.

“Quinn. Please.” Peter’s voice held more emotion than at anytime Quinn could remember since he’d met him. A raw desperation on the edge of tears. Grabbing Quinn’s arm, Peter blurted, “I miss you. I want—”

Before Quinn could shake him off, Peter pulled him in tight and kissed him. Quinn let him. Maybe he was curious, or maybe he was the one with something to prove. It was like kissing a piece of bread. Nothing. Not even an unwanted spark of desire.

“Don’t you feel anything?”

Quinn shook his head. He felt something all right. But it had nothing to do with Peter.

“Because of him?”

“Because this is over, Peter. It’s been over. You’re Dennis’s brother, the father of my godson, but that’s it. Those are the reasons I’m bothering to tell you to get your head out of your ass before you lose what you do have.”

Quinn should have done that months ago. He stretched his neck, free of a tension he knew he’d been carrying for years. Not only was he done with that bastard, but he’d moved on to someone better. Nothing he’d ever felt when he kissed Peter could compare to what happened when he watched Eli smile. When he wondered what comments Eli would be making about some TV show, or something in the paper. Every time Quinn thought he’d figured Eli out, he’d surprise him. Quinn loved that about him. Loved him.

Quinn was in love with Eli.

Eli, the man who’d just made himself at home in Quinn’s life, taking over the bottom drawer and the back of the closet. Quinn wasn’t sure he was supposed to notice. It wasn’t a problem. Simply one of Eli’s survival skills.

Quinn’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. So what did that mean for a guy who’d fallen for Eli? Quinn couldn’t blame Eli for being good at staying off the streets, but had Quinn put himself in the same situation he’d had with Peter? Peter had used Quinn while planning the new direction in his life. It wasn’t that Quinn thought Eli would lie and cheat like Peter had. But Quinn didn’t want to be nothing more than a way station while Eli figured out the next stage of his life.

He couldn’t go through that again. He and Peter had never made any kind of formal commitment, never used words to describe what they were to each other. Quinn hadn’t thought
I love yous
were necessary. The fact that they’d decided to make a life together said it all. Except he had been making a life and Peter had been keeping his options open. Hell, Peter had been gone a long time before he’d packed a box.

Ready or not, Eli, you and I are putting words to this right now
.

When Eli heard Quinn come in the front door, the laptop clock showed 8:45. Halloween was three days away. Eli’s favorite holiday. It could get a little wild, but he was looking forward to hitting the bars with Quinn. Quinn could wear one of those T-shirts that said “This is my costume,” if he didn’t want to get dressed up. Before Eli could mention it, Quinn stuck his head in the living room.

“Hey. Did you eat already?”

“Yeah, sorry. I made spaghetti and meatballs. It’s in the fridge.”

With both of his genetic donors working until six or seven, Eli had been making his own meals since he could reach the fridge door. But he hadn’t had a regular dining companion since he’d left his best friend’s house. This was the first time he’d sat alone at Quinn’s kitchen table. After a few minutes of feeling weird, he’d gotten up to eat by the sink.

Quinn came in from the hall, rubbing the back of his neck. Eli’s stomach tensed. He hadn’t done anything to be guilty about, hadn’t so much as left a dish in the sink, but some instinct warned him that whatever Quinn had to say, Eli wasn’t going to like it. He mentally started packing.

Quinn sat on the couch next to him and the tension turned to a complicated macramé knot design.

Quinn finally stopped squeezing the back of his neck. “I’ll bet you don’t miss those house meetings with your roommates.” Clunky intro as always. That was Quinn.

“Except I have the feeling this is about to turn into one.” Eli closed the computer and slid it between them.

Quinn didn’t offer a denial. “I know they told you to move out.” He turned enough to watch Eli. “The note you got. It fell out of your pocket and I read it.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t anything to get upset about, and maybe Quinn knowing that was why he hadn’t said anything about the way more of Eli’s stuff kept appearing in the house. But Eli felt like a cartoon character with a ten-ton weight dangling on a string over his head; he had to fight the urge to look up.