time.”
Ian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just say it.”
“You fucked Sam.”
“Sort of.” Not that Jurgen would care about the gray areas.
“I told you to leave Sam alone.”
“Yes.” He met Jurgen’s eyes. Jurgen didn’t just look angry, he looked disappointed . “I’m sorry,” he said again.
Jurgen threw down the paper and stood up. “Don’t apologize to me.” Ian thought he wanted more coffee, but Jurgen headed toward the hallway instead. “You should probably get the hell out of here. You start that new job on Monday,” he added before he hit the door.
Aw, fuck . They’d never talked about Sherri—Ian’s single failure at a relationship in the past, the one that had pissed Jurgen off so totally—but for the first time Ian felt like he wanted to try. He had a good relationship with his cousin most of the time, except when it came to this.
“Listen, I get that you’re still pissed about Sherri.” Jurgen stopped in the doorway, so Ian kept talking. “But it was seven years ago. I was a fucked-up kid. I wasn’t trying to use her, I really thought . . .”
“Thought you could be straight?”
“I thought it might be a mistake. Maybe I was straight. I liked her, I even loved her, but not—you know—like that.”
Jurgen sighed and turned around, folding his arms across his chest. “You haven’t been serious about anyone since then.”
“You’ve never been serious about anyone until Nik.”
Jurgen stared at him a long time. “So what are you trying to say?”
He wished he knew. “Just, maybe I’m trying to figure some shit out.”
“This is how you figure shit out? Take advantage of a guy like Sam and sneak out before he wakes up?”
“It’s not like he didn’t want it. He wanted to be with me too.”
“So did Sherri.”
Hell . Ian closed his eyes and listened to Jurgen walk out. Seemed like a good idea, so he left too.
Having a job, going to school full time, and being a Graduate Teaching Fellow was a pain in the ass. Sam spent half of his fifteen-minute break at Fatty’s trying to think up things that would suck worse.
Having an incurable disease and no health care. That would suck much worse. Meh. Wasn’t working. He didn’t care how much some hypothetical life would suck, because his real life sucked right now.
Okay, time to think of the positives.
He was going to have a big, fat, juicy (yet cooked to “well done” to avoid any nasty intestinal bugs) cheeseburger for dinner, and it wasn’t going to cost him a thing. The internal happy meter barely wiggled. That thought had held more power six months ago, when he’d started working at Fatty’s. Having a cheeseburger for dinner twice a week for six months—even a Fatty Burger—had somewhat dimmed the simple joy of meat, cheese, Fat Sauce, and no bill.
How about he finally had his own place because of this job? If the happy meter were a penis, it would have blinked with interest, but mostly just lain there like a fat, disinterested slug.
I had the best sex of my life eleven days ago .
Ding ding ding! The happy meter had a stiffy. Sam sighed, smiling.
“Break’s over,” Tineke said, bursting through the kitchen door and making Sam jump. She had an annoying habit of being very present wherever she went. Right now, she began messing with lemons or something, meddling with Juan Miguel’s plating while he scowled. She didn’t seem to care.
“You have a big group just seated in the center,” she said to Sam. “I had to push three tables together.” She stopped harassing Juan Miguel and looked at him. “Are you thinking about that guy again?”
Sam sighed happily. “Yep.”
Juan Miguel snatched his plate away from her while she was distracted. “Stop it,” he grumped, fixing whatever she’d “fixed.” Juan started muttering to himself in Spanish.
Tineke bounced and clapped her hands. “Tell me about him again. Pleeease?”
Sam rolled his eyes and stood up from
Ian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just say it.”
“You fucked Sam.”
“Sort of.” Not that Jurgen would care about the gray areas.
“I told you to leave Sam alone.”
“Yes.” He met Jurgen’s eyes. Jurgen didn’t just look angry, he looked disappointed . “I’m sorry,” he said again.
Jurgen threw down the paper and stood up. “Don’t apologize to me.” Ian thought he wanted more coffee, but Jurgen headed toward the hallway instead. “You should probably get the hell out of here. You start that new job on Monday,” he added before he hit the door.
Aw, fuck . They’d never talked about Sherri—Ian’s single failure at a relationship in the past, the one that had pissed Jurgen off so totally—but for the first time Ian felt like he wanted to try. He had a good relationship with his cousin most of the time, except when it came to this.
“Listen, I get that you’re still pissed about Sherri.” Jurgen stopped in the doorway, so Ian kept talking. “But it was seven years ago. I was a fucked-up kid. I wasn’t trying to use her, I really thought . . .”
“Thought you could be straight?”
“I thought it might be a mistake. Maybe I was straight. I liked her, I even loved her, but not—you know—like that.”
Jurgen sighed and turned around, folding his arms across his chest. “You haven’t been serious about anyone since then.”
“You’ve never been serious about anyone until Nik.”
Jurgen stared at him a long time. “So what are you trying to say?”
He wished he knew. “Just, maybe I’m trying to figure some shit out.”
“This is how you figure shit out? Take advantage of a guy like Sam and sneak out before he wakes up?”
“It’s not like he didn’t want it. He wanted to be with me too.”
“So did Sherri.”
Hell . Ian closed his eyes and listened to Jurgen walk out. Seemed like a good idea, so he left too.
Having a job, going to school full time, and being a Graduate Teaching Fellow was a pain in the ass. Sam spent half of his fifteen-minute break at Fatty’s trying to think up things that would suck worse.
Having an incurable disease and no health care. That would suck much worse. Meh. Wasn’t working. He didn’t care how much some hypothetical life would suck, because his real life sucked right now.
Okay, time to think of the positives.
He was going to have a big, fat, juicy (yet cooked to “well done” to avoid any nasty intestinal bugs) cheeseburger for dinner, and it wasn’t going to cost him a thing. The internal happy meter barely wiggled. That thought had held more power six months ago, when he’d started working at Fatty’s. Having a cheeseburger for dinner twice a week for six months—even a Fatty Burger—had somewhat dimmed the simple joy of meat, cheese, Fat Sauce, and no bill.
How about he finally had his own place because of this job? If the happy meter were a penis, it would have blinked with interest, but mostly just lain there like a fat, disinterested slug.
I had the best sex of my life eleven days ago .
Ding ding ding! The happy meter had a stiffy. Sam sighed, smiling.
“Break’s over,” Tineke said, bursting through the kitchen door and making Sam jump. She had an annoying habit of being very present wherever she went. Right now, she began messing with lemons or something, meddling with Juan Miguel’s plating while he scowled. She didn’t seem to care.
“You have a big group just seated in the center,” she said to Sam. “I had to push three tables together.” She stopped harassing Juan Miguel and looked at him. “Are you thinking about that guy again?”
Sam sighed happily. “Yep.”
Juan Miguel snatched his plate away from her while she was distracted. “Stop it,” he grumped, fixing whatever she’d “fixed.” Juan started muttering to himself in Spanish.
Tineke bounced and clapped her hands. “Tell me about him again. Pleeease?”
Sam rolled his eyes and stood up from
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