Friends and Lovers by Tinnean

‘I’ll see you later.’”
    “It’s the same thing.”
    “It isn’t. Anyway, I’ve made plans.” He went to his dresser and pulled out clean clothes.
    “Okay. Let me put this stuff away while you’re getting dressed, and then we can go out.”
    “You hate going out to dinner during the week.” Tom felt oddly uncomfortable dropping the towel, so he tried to do it casually. He turned his back, and where yesterday he would have made a slow production of drawing the silk boxers up his legs, now he had to battle not to scramble to get into them.
    “I don’t mind…”
    “Look, don’t do me any favors, okay? Besides, you always spend Mondays with your kids.”
    “I told Reba I couldn’t tonight.” Jack pulled a face. “She was some pissed, let me tell you.”
    Tom couldn’t help grinning. He’d met Reba Sweet, nee Benoit, on the same day he’d met Jack. Jack had tackled him in a game of shirts and skins, practically burying the younger teen under his big body. Tom had gotten hard in spite of himself.
    The grin faded from his face. Afterwards, apologizing profusely for causing scraped elbows, Jack had brought him over to the sidelines and introduced him to his fiancée. The aversion had been mutual and instantaneous, but Jack had been oblivious. He insisted that once they got cleaned up, his new-found friend join them for ice cream.
    Tom had taken pains to conceal the antipathy from Jack, but Reba, ostensibly such a good Christian, had felt no such compunction. Eventually, she’d given Jack an ultimatum – his queer Jew friend, or her and Jesus and the certainty of eternity in his bosom.
    He hadn’t been surprised when Jack, the preacher’s son, had chosen the side of god and the angels.
    It had hurt, but he’d let him go.
    The fact that he’d transferred to Florida State U shortly afterwards had nothing to do with it.
    “My purpose in life isn’t to help you score points off Reba, Jack, but never mind her. You always spend Mondays with Theodore and Catherine. How are they going to feel?”
    “They’ll be okay for one night.” To Tom, Jack sounded uneasy, though. “It’s just for tonight.”
    The way what happened over the weekend was only supposed to just be for one night?
    “I… I wanted to see you again.” Jack offered a hopeful smile. “I told you…” 
    “You’re choosing me over them?” And how soon would it be before Jack began to hate him for that? He dropped down on the neatly made bed and put on black dress socks.
    “Tom? What are you doing?”
    “Dressing. Obviously.”
    “Yeah, but those are dress clothes.”
    “Give the man a cigar. I’m going out. Alone.” Some demon made him continue, “Although I won’t be alone when I come home.”
    “Tommy?” Jack was pale now, and Tom felt a perverse sense of triumph. “What’s going on, babe?”
    “Nothing’s going on. I’m going out to dinner, and then I’m going clubbing, and if a tasty twink with a bubble-butt catches my eye, I’m bringing him home and fucking him through the mattress.”
    “This mattress? On… on this bed?”
    “Do you see any other bed in here?” Tom dragged the white Ralph Lauren polo shirt over his head and smoothed it over his torso. This shirt always drew attention. It was certainly drawing Jack’s eyes. However, that hadn’t been why Tom had chosen it.
    “But…”
    “But what?”
    “The last few days…”
    “What about them?”
    “They were so great! We had such a good time. At least…” His voice dropped. “I did.”
    “You fucked me. So fucking what?” Tom stepped into his black trousers and yanked them up his legs.
    “But…”
    “You’re repeating yourself, and it’s getting old. Go home, Jack.” He zipped his fly and went to the closet to take a pair of loafers from a shoe tree. It wasn’t an excuse to avoid the desperation in his friend’s eyes.
    “No. You’re my… we’re best friends. I know you liked what we did.”
    “I repeat. So. Fucking. What?” Tom