It’s masochistic to wish I was in her shoes and want him to stare at me with that same longing and knowingly sensual gaze. It hurts to know I will never have that with him.
Redirecting my attention elsewhere, I ruffle Caleb’s hair playfully when he shows me what he’s put together, as I hear Garrett whisper something to Brooklyn that makes her giggle.
Fuck, just kill me now.
“Hey, man.”
The weight of Garrett’s hands presses into my scapula, the heat radiating through my skin and burning into my soul, elicits a shiver that runs down my spine. “Looks like Caleb’s brilliance is once again outshining his uncle’s lack of competence in this department.”
Garrett chuckles low, the vibrations skimming down the length of my arms until he finally removes his hands and leans down to kiss his son on the top of his head. Caleb turns his face up with a huge grin for his father and everything about this moment lights my heart with love and envy.
One day, I want this same scene in my own life. With my own partner. My own child.
Will that ever happen? Would I reconsider getting married to a woman just so I can have a family of my own? Or to make my grandmother happy? Marry someone of the opposite sex just because it’s what conventions have established for centuries just to have a child of my own?
Garrett’s instructions knock me out of my contemplations.
“He’s already had his bath, so you can put him to bed around eight. He’ll probably want you to read him a few stories at least three times.” He shifts his gaze back to Caleb, admonishing him gently. “Only two times, buddy. No more than that. Don’t think you can pull a fast one over on Uncle Luc.”
“Nah-ah. Twee.” Caleb obstinately holds up three fingers and I have to turn my head away and stifle my snicker.
“There are times I wish he wasn’t so good at math,” Garrett concedes, shaking his head at his son. “Just be good and do what uncle Luc tells you to do tonight, okay, buddy?”
Garrett gives a resigned sigh and once again pats me on the shoulder before he stands and claps his hands together.
“We have reservations at eight and then we’re catching a late movie. I’ll text you on our way home, but it’ll probably be after midnight. You’re free to sleep in the guestroom if you want. Just make yourself at home.”
“Of course, not a problem. Just enjoy your alone time together. I’ve got a castle wall to build.” I point down at the current structure I have in place with the Legos.
I glance over my shoulder and watch longingly as Garrett takes Brooklyn’s hand in his and they head out the garage door. I let out a giant breath of air as it shuts behind them, shutting out any and all possibilities of me and Garrett.
There is nothing in this world that makes me happier than to see Garrett finding joy in his life again after all that he’s been through. His wife’s untimely, tragic death. Retiring from the NBA. Dealing with a challenging diagnosis of his son’s development. A move to a new state and starting a new coaching job. A legal battle of custody with Caleb’s biological mother. And now, falling in love again with someone who has literally changed his life and his heart.
The only tragedy I can see is that it wasn’t me who helped turn his life around.
Sure, I was there by his side when he needed my support.
But it was as his best friend and not even close to the same thing that he shares with Brooklyn.
The realization hits me hard and leaves a hole in my heart. I’ll never have that with Garrett and it’s my own damn fault that I’m a lonely, empty shell of a man.
8
Kyler
“Damn, kid. You were on fire tonight.”
I turn from my spot in the dressing room, which isn’t more than a 10x10 closet, to see a guy named Atlas that I work with pop his head in through the cracked doorway. He’s wearing a long pink wig and sparkly boy shorts that clearly advertise his very full package.
Not too unlike the slingshot G-string thong I wore earlier on stage, with the red-hot chili pepper displayed prominently on my package, which seemed to do the trick with my audience tonight. It brought in a ton of tips.
The crowd was on fire. Chanting, singing, and swaying along to the EDM music blaring out of the club’s speakers. Drinks were flowing and sex was in the air at every corner of Hot Knights.
I’ve just changed out of my dance gear and into a black mesh tank and shorts, removing the make-up and glitter I had painted on my face with a wet towelette. I’d been sad to lose the face painting I did of the chili peppers on both cheeks, as well as the arrow and words “Fire down below” I’d painted on my abs.
“Thanks, Atlas. I appreciate that. You were great, too.”
I shove all my stuff into my bag and slip on my slides, ready to head home for the night. I step by him, squeezing through the door, but our chests brush together in the small passage. He seems to like this idea and doesn’t back away, adding his hand to the mix by sliding it down my bare shoulder and arm, seductively grinding his half-hard cock against mine.
“You got plans tonight, baby? I’d love to have a stiff drink and then a taste of your stiff cock.” He emphasizes this with a squeeze of my dick with his palm.
I smile tightly and shake my head. “Tempting offer, Atlas, but I can’t tonight. Maybe some other time?”
He pouts out his bottom lip as I firmly pry away his hand. He flicks a lock of the pink-colored hair away from his face and sighs with dejection. Maybe under different circumstances, I’d take him up on his offer.
We’ve flirted for ages, circling each other like fresh meat to a hungry lion, but I’ve made the decision not to sleep with anyone I work with. It’s never a good idea, even if it was just for a night. Too many complications, feelings, and jealous irritation can arise when you see a partner of yours dancing half-naked around other men trying to gain their attention.
My avoidance of commitment has grown to historic proportions. Dare I say I’ve worked really hard to put on the act of a fuck boy who’s always up for a quick hookup? In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s what everyone calls me around here because I’m down to fuck and have a good time.
Since breaking up with Max, I’ve had fling after fling with an outrageous amount of men, my tallies growing longer by the day.
But lately, it’s become an annoyance of how my body and brain have seemed to derail like a speeding train off the tracks by the existence of one very hot and off-limits sexy professor.
Even the tame — and grossly academic – emails Lucas and I exchanged throughout the week have done a number on me, increasing my heightened awareness of just how attractive and sexy he is, and how much I enjoy being in my professor’s company.
After the third email discussing the topic of sex in art, I couldn’t help but lean toward naughty and flirtatious innuendo. And Lord help me, but Lucas responded in kind with just the right amount of insinuation and inference with every reply back to me. Including the one that had me jerking off in the shower to his words later that night.
Dear Kyler,
While I appreciate your suggestion that the line between pornography and erotic art is slim, I think you’d have a hard time discerning the difference, as both are material meant to create an arousal and reaction within the human brain, and therefore physical response.