Dirty Dining (28 page)

And to finally tell Brice he loved him too.

Doug drove Jeremy to the bike shop so he could get his bike repaired, then dropped him off at Springer Gateway on the far west edge of campus so he had a short walk to his office.

On the way to the LSB, Jeremy spotted a man in a suit and tie with the same sprinkling of silver at his temples as Brice. He was too far to make out any of the man’s features, but he shook his head. He was only seeing things. Brice was so much on his mind, soon everyone older than thirty would look like Brice to him.

For the next six hours, he was able to focus on work, including brainstorming topics for journal articles. He was pleased with the progress and getting a little hungry. Maybe he’d stop by the diner near Brice’s place and bring him dinner. He liked that plan.

He grabbed a quick snack of a fruit cup at a food cart on the way to BART so he wouldn’t be starving by the time he got into the city. It was seven thirty when he arrived at Brice’s building with bags of meatloaf sandwiches—one of Brice’s guilty pleasures—and fresh peach cobbler. Everything smelled so good he’d wanted to scarf down the sandwich right there in the diner. But he restrained himself. It would be more fun to share with Brice after Jeremy’s apology.

The sandwiches reheated well, just in case they got sidetracked with makeup sex.

From the doorstep, he buzzed Brice’s apartment. No answer. He was probably stuck at work or decided to stop for a drink with a friend. Jeremy knew his colleague Ron was an old friend from college days.

By eight thirty, Brice hadn’t arrived. A neighbor let him into the building so he wouldn’t freeze to death on the step. He went up to Brice’s flat and from outside the door called Brice. So much for surprising him. He only got voice mail, so he left a brief message to call back.

At nine fifteen, Jeremy ate his sandwich. It was cold and not very good, but he was starving.

At ten thirty, he ate a piece of cobbler.

He knew he should go home, but he really wanted to see Brice and knew he’d come home soon. In the months they’d been together, the only time Brice stayed out was with Jeremy—either at the club or at Jeremy’s place in Berkeley.

At midnight, he decided to go home. He’d tortured himself with imagined scenes of Brice at the Dinner Club with Kit or Law or some other guy in his lap, naked, as Brice played with his hot, hard cock.

He ended up on the second to last BART train to the East Bay, surrounded by couples making out—or much more—on their way home. He could swear back in the far corner of the car a girl was giving a guy a blowjob. Was Brice doing the same thing to someone else right now?

Jeremy squeezed his eyes shut, just in case the tears welling up there had any intention of escaping.

At home he put the rest of the leftovers in the fridge before throwing himself into bed and wrapping his arms around the pillows. He pressed his face into them and shouted. He called himself every name in the book at least twice. He raged into the pillow until his throat hurt from shouting.

S
ATURDAY
MORNING
Brice woke up on the couch in Ron’s office. His clothes were wrinkled, and his neck hurt like fuck. Ron was still asleep, slouched in the chair three feet away. The office smelled like stale Chinese food and feet. Ron had taken his shoes off. It brought back college memories. Bad ones.

When Brice came back from the bathroom, Ron was eating cold beef chow fun from a red-and-white paper container. “This stuff is not as good the next day,” he said with his mouth full.

“It’s marginally better if you heat it up some.”

Ron held out the container of garlic beef, and the aroma made Brice’s eyes water as he waved it away. “God, there has to be a place that delivers breakfast nearby.”

“No time. But I promise you a nice lunch if we can just finish the last two sections of the proposal. Bob Bartlet and Trevor Dane will be here at noon to go over what we’ve got.”

“Yeah. I need to read over what we wrote at 3:00 a.m. I have a feeling it’s going to sound like a Dick and Jane book.” Brice opened his laptop and glanced at the offending section. “Oh, coffee should be ready in the break room. Be a pal and get me cup?”

Ron grumbled but went to get coffee. It was only fair, since Brice had made it.

Two hours later they were satisfied with the presentation and grabbed quick showers in Christie’s private bathroom. He never showed up on weekends. Brice had the overnight bag he used to take to the club with him and found clean underwear, socks and a shirt that didn’t smell like he’d slept in it. It did smell a little like Jeremy. An invisible hand reached into his chest and squeezed his heart at the memories.

He hadn’t heard from Jeremy since he’d asked Brice to leave a few days earlier. No replies to the texts or voice mails. Then Brice’s heart skipped a beat when he spotted a missed call from Jeremy, from around eight the night before. His finger hovered over the button to dial him when Ron poked his head into Brice’s office.

“Dude, they’re here. Get your butt back into my office.”

“Gimme a minute.”

“Zip up and let’s do this.”

Brice glanced down and realized he hadn’t finished dressing, and his belt was flapping from his open pants. He pulled himself together and shoved the phone in his pocket. He’d call Jeremy when they took a break.

S
ATURDAY
, J
EREMY
stayed in bed till noon, debating whether to change the sheets. On one hand, they still smelled like Brice, and he didn’t want to think about him anymore. On the other hand, they smelled like Brice, and Jeremy didn’t want to forget him.

In the end, inertia won, and he left the sheets on. He ate half a leftover meatloaf sandwich for lunch. Doug was working at the pizza place and would be back with a fresh double crust delicacy by nine.

Jeremy killed the next eight hours by binge watching
White Collar
and fantasizing about what he’d do if he could spend the night with Matt Bomer. He had slipped the
Magic Mike
DVD into the player when Doug came in.

They ate pizza and watched the film, with Jeremy fast-forwarding over the places where the female lead was talking and rewatching the ones where the guys had any of their clothes off. Frustrated, Doug grabbed the remote from Jeremy.

“That’s no way to watch a film.”

“It is if you’re gay.” He grabbed the remote back and watched one of Channing Tatum’s dance numbers three times in a row.

Doug shook his head and concentrated on pizza. “We’re watching
anything
with Angelina Jolie next.”

Jeremy’s phone rang every hour on the hour starting at eight o’clock, and he hit Ignore every time. The third time, Doug grabbed the phone and looked at the caller ID.

“It’s Brice. Why aren’t you answering? I thought you were going to apologize.”

“Well, I was going to. I tried to. Only he never came home. I don’t think he’s sitting home right now missing me.”

“Wherever he is, he’s
calling
you. Talk to him.”

Jeremy stared at the phone and at the images of Channing Tatum on the screen and at the crusts of the four huge pieces of pizza he’d eaten. He ran into his room and hit dial on the phone.

“Jeremy! I’m so glad you finally returned my call. I’ve been really worried about you.” Brice sounded exhausted, like someone had drained all the energy out of him.
Well, that’s what happens when you stay out too late,
Jeremy gloated.

“Really?” Jeremy wanted to believe it, but the memory of sitting outside Brice’s door for five hours dampened his enthusiasm.

“Yes. Can we talk? I want to see you. Or we can just talk on the phone. Whatever’s okay with you.”

“We’re talking now.”

“I’m sorry, Jeremy. Just tell me how I can prove it to you, or make it up to you, or whatever you need or want. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.”

“There’s nothing you can do, Brice.”

“Nothing? Jeremy. Please.” His voice sounded strangled and tight. It made Jeremy’s chest hurt to hear it.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who owes you an apology. I’m sorry for the way I reacted. It was childish. You deserve better.”

“Are you done with me? Or can we….” He didn’t finish the sentence.

In his head, Jeremy’s brain was playing that Barbra Streisand song, “The Way We Were.” Hearing it made his throat close up, it was so sad. He didn’t want to
be
that song.

“Brice, I’m in love with you. I’m not done with you by a long shot.”

“Good. Now tell me that in person.”

“I don’t think I have time to catch the last BART, unless Doug—”

“Look out the window.”

Jeremy looked down onto the street. Brice was standing on the sidewalk in front of his building. Jeremy raced outside without bothering to put on his shoes or take his keys. He threw himself into Brice’s arms, and Brice swept him up and spun him like something from a sappy movie. Jeremy didn’t think people did that in real life, till now. He let himself melt against Brice and got the second best kiss of his life. Number one was still the first time Brice kissed him, even though he’d been dressed as a slutty cop at the time.

“I love you,” Jeremy said against Brice’s cheek when their mouths parted minutes later. “I kind of hated you a little, and that’s when I knew for sure I loved you.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“I love you,
love
you, love
you
!” Jeremy tried the words out in different ways, enjoying the way Brice’s arms still crushed him tightly, chest to chest.

“I love you, Jeremy, and I really want to show you in a way that wouldn’t be appropriate on the sidewalk, even in Berkeley.” He paused. “Would you stay over in the city with me?”

“I don’t know….”

Brice let go of him and turned toward the street. “Well, I know where I can find some other company.”

“Oh no you won’t!” Jeremy raced up and embraced Brice. “Let’s go.”

“You want to get anything from upstairs, like shoes or pants? Not that I don’t love the look on you.”

It hit Jeremy he was only wearing boxers and anyone who looked would notice just how much he’d missed Brice. They went inside together, and Brice sat with Doug on the couch watching the end of
Magic Mike
while Jeremy collected his stuff and put on shoes.

“No pants?” Brice asked.

Jeremy gave a coy shrug. “Saves time later.”

“Get out of here, both of you!” Doug said, putting his hands over his ears.

Downstairs in the car, Brice turned to Jeremy for another kiss, and even in just a T-shirt and boxers, Jeremy’s temperature rose to the boiling point.

“Interested in having the first course in the backseat right now?” Jeremy glanced back at the tiny area that pretended to be a backseat in Brice’s Audi Roadster.

“No. As much as I want you right now, that’s not how I want to be with you tonight.” He planted a kiss on Jeremy’s lips and then started the car.

Jeremy asked Brice to put the top down as they got on the Bay Bridge and watched the lights flicker overhead. San Francisco came into focus ahead of them as they zoomed out of the Treasure Island tunnel. Brice kept his hand on Jeremy’s thigh the whole trip, keeping him in a low but constant state of arousal.

Outside his building Brice pushed the button on the gate to the underground parking garage. Before they got out of the car, Brice turned to Jeremy. “I know you want to get upstairs, but I’m starving. I didn’t get much dinner. Just a quick stop to bring something back from the diner? You can wait for me upstairs.”

“I’ll go.”

Brice stared at Jeremy’s boxers, slightly tented. “Put on my jacket.”

It covered Jeremy’s underwear, but gave the impression he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “It is what it is,” Brice said and put an arm around Jeremy’s waist and steered him toward the street.

Inside the diner the one waitress on duty in the middle of the night took Brice’s order. While he paid, she glanced at Jeremy.

“Two nights in a row? Keep eating like this, and you’ll lose that girlish figure.”

Jeremy shrugged and hoped Brice wasn’t paying attention. As they headed out with their food, Brice said, “You do have nice legs….”

They held hands in the elevator and kissed for far too long when they got inside Brice’s apartment.

“Want a cognac or something?” It was one of Brice’s rituals.

“Sure. I’ll put the pie on a plate.”

“Okay.”

In the kitchen Jeremy slipped the coat off and quickly shed the boxers and T-shirt before putting the coat on again. Working at the Dinner Club had taught him how to get out of his clothes quickly. He put the chocolate cheesecake on one plate and the key lime pie on another, grabbed forks, and headed into the living room to join Brice on the couch.

They sipped cognac for a few minutes while Brice took a bite of cheesecake. “Yum. Want some?”

Jeremy shook his head.

“What’s up with the coat? You can take that off; it’s warm enough in here.”

Jeremy stood up and unbuttoned the coat. He held it open wide, then slipped it off his shoulders. He loved the way Brice’s smile widened and he put the pie down without taking his gaze from Jeremy’s naked, aroused body. Before he could settle onto Brice’s lap, Brice picked him up and carried him into the bedroom.

And in Brice’s huge bed, they made soft, slow love. Brice held Jeremy so carefully, almost too carefully. For some reason, Brice held back, not letting himself go. Seeing Brice a little out of control was always a turn-on for Jeremy.

He looked up into Brice’s eyes. “Brice?”

Brice stopped moving inside Jeremy. “What? You okay?”

“Yeah. Does loving each other mean we won’t fuck anymore?”

“What? I don’t want to fuck you. I want us to take our time. We have a long time. There’s no reason to rush.” He covered Jeremy’s mouth with a kiss and pushed in again.

“Deeper?”

For the next few strokes, Brice pushed in farther, and the sensations went down to his toes. Jeremy’s breath caught in his throat.