I went into the living room. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Motherfucker!” Elias said, and his buddy snatched the game controller from him.
“My turn,” his friend said.
“Hey, big bro. What’s up?” He wheeled himself over to me. Elias had been young when it happened. Mom had been at work, and I’d been watching him. This guy I’d been crushing on, the guy who made me actually acknowledge the things I felt, had a trampoline. He’d said we could come over. Elias and I didn’t have shit like that, and I’d told myself I was going for my brother so he could have some fun, but it wasn’t true. We’d gone because the boy had pretty eyes and a nice smile. I’d been looking at those eyes and that smile instead of watching my brother. He’d jumped, fell wrong, and everything changed. He’d injured his spinal cord and lost the use of his legs. I would never forgive myself for letting it happen. Wanting to look at a cute boy had ended in Elias’s accident. That was on me.
Elias always said he wouldn’t change his injury, even without knowing why I held on to my guilt over it. He said it was supposed to happen, that no one should feel sorry for him, and just because he couldn’t walk didn’t mean he couldn’t live a fulfilling life—and he did. He had a large group of friends, a part-time job, and was working on his doctorate in political science. Sometimes I wondered how he did it all. I helped out where I could and paid for his schooling. He never let anything hold him back. I had no doubt that if my brother were gay, he’d be braver than me. He wouldn’t want to change who he was.
“I just want to collapse into bed,” I finally replied.
“And that’s different from every other day because…? You’re the most boring millionaire I know.”
“Jesus Christ. What the fuck is up with everyone today? Darren was giving me shit too.”
Elias shrugged. “We know you.”
“I don’t like you,” I replied. “Now let me in on the game rotation before I take my old ass to bed. I’ll show you all how it’s done.”
I joined Elias and his friends, and we played a few rounds of Call of Duty. Really, I’d wanted to go to my room and pass out, but hell, both Elias and Darren in one day? I was stuck in a rut I’d never get out of. It would always be my life.
We played games for a couple of hours until Elias’s friends left. Then he said he was tired, that he’d done too much today, so we said our good-nights and I made my way to my room. I locked the door, stripped out of my clothes, and dug deep in my bedside table drawer for the lube I kept there. Then I got into bed and logged in to the porn site I’d had a membership to for years.
Two guys entered the frame and kissed. I lubed up, took my cock in hand, and pretended I was one of them.
Chapter Two
Weston
“Your town hall went well today.” Jeremy leaned back against my couch and looked over at me.
“Did it, though?” I asked, because from where I was sitting, it hadn’t. No matter what I wanted to do, no matter how many changes I wanted to make, my hands were always tied. As a United States senator, constituents didn’t get that, and why should they? All they knew was I’d made plans and promises I hadn’t been able to keep. Their day-to-day lives were affected by a hundred things they wanted me to fix, and I couldn’t—I fucking couldn’t—and I hated that. I didn’t like not being able to do something, anything.
“You can only do what you can do,” Jeremy replied.
“I know.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose. “It just pisses me off sometimes. I got into politics to make changes, but I’m not.”
“You are. Just not as quickly as you’d like,” Jeremy countered, but I waved him off. I was done with the conversation. It sucked to feel like a failure. “You were all over the internet again with your boy toy of the night.”
I rolled my eyes. “So? Am I not supposed to date? I’m a thirty-six-year-old, single man. The youngest senator in the country, thank you very much. Don’t I at least deserve to fuck?” I liked fucking. A lot. I’d spent the first eighteen years of my life ashamed of who I was—denying it, wishing it away, fearing I’d lose my future, my family. Agreeing to let religious groups try to change me when I now knew I didn’t need to be changed. Fuck that noise. I damn sure planned to live my life.
“You deserve to fuck,” Jeremy replied. “But you know you specifically enjoy it when you gain attention for it.”
He was right. I probably did. I didn’t want there to be any doubt that I wasn’t ashamed of who I was. I wanted queer kids to see you could be queer and succeed. Not that I had to flaunt my hookups for that, but I wouldn’t stop living my life for anyone.
I took a drink, looked over at the golden boy with the nice smile. He’d caught my attention right away in college. Jeremy was beautiful—blond hair, great body, that boy-next-door charm. Little did the world know how freaking sweet Jeremy was on top of the looks. “I’m very, very good at fucking. One might say the best.”
He laughed, rolling his eyes at my playfulness. But really, it was the truth too. “You’re okay,” he teased. “My husband is better, but it’s also really good when I have both of you.”
Jeremy’s husband, Bobby, was a filthy-rich investor. He was always traveling for work. They had homes in both LA and San Francisco, but Jeremy spent most of his time in San Francisco, where I lived. Bobby adored Jeremy, they loved each other, but they weren’t monogamous. They had rules in place and checked in with each other, and were very careful about who they chose to play with as they didn’t want it to get out. Oftentimes it ended up being me because I kept their secret. I’d been with Jeremy both with and without Bobby.
“You’re okay,” I said, echoing what he’d said to me.
We chatted some more about life and work—Jeremy was one of the top lawyers in California—and a little while later, he headed home to Bobby, who was in town for the night.
I grabbed myself a glass of water and went over to the large windows overlooking the San Francisco skyline. It was beautiful. I didn’t think there was a freer place in the world. I’d fallen in love immediately. It had been the first time in my life I’d felt comfortable in my skin, where I’d found my place. There was no one saying people like me were wrong or unnatural. I wasn’t whisked away to a secret conversion camp and told I was going to hell. Here I could go out with men and end up on the internet. I’d gotten a degree in political science, then gone to law school, and I was now a senator—all things my father had done too, only I’d done them gay. That meant something to me.
Forcing myself away from the windows, I made my way toward my office. It was late, but I’d always been more of a night owl. I worked for a couple of hours before getting online. I was a glutton for punishment. One would think by now I’d stop looking myself up, but the truth was, I got a laugh out of what people said. It gave me strength because I just didn’t give a fuck anymore. The headlines, the clickbait. It was ridiculous.
United States Senator Weston Calloway enjoys a night on the town with a mystery man.