Derek had never understood Jeff and Craig’s friendship. They’d never made love. Hell, they’d never even Frenched. Craig never seemed to want more with Jeff, although it was probably because Jeff was always after the man, and Craig was always after an easy, hot piece of ass. Their friendship wouldn’t have survived an hour if they’d ever had sex.
“Too bad, Craig. It’s your loss.” Jeff shrugged, moving into the kitchen to set a kettle of water on the stove to heat up for tea. “We could be great together.” He pulled out a tea strainer and filled it with green tea. He knew where everything was in Craig’s apartment. Jeff had been there so often, he was probably just as comfortable there as Craig himself.
While he was waiting for the water to boil, Jeff went into the bathroom. He looked at his face. There were puffy bags under his eyes. “God! It looks like I’m wearing suitcases. I didn’t even have time to take my makeup with me.” He turned on the cold water and splashed his face several times, focusing on shocking his droopy lower lids into submission.
“Hey, you.”
“Oh fucking hell!” Jeff literally jumped, splashing water all over the top of his T-shirt. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Craig snorted. “No kidding.” Craig handed Jeff the towel hanging on the bar opposite the sink. “I see you didn’t get to put your face on before he kicked you out this time. So how long is it going to be? A day, a week?”
“Try forever.” Jeff buried his face in the soft terry cloth.
“I’ve heard that one before.”
Folding the towel neatly in thirds, Jeff hung it back up. He turned to face his friend. Before he could utter a single word of explanation the kettle started to whistle.
“Glad you still feel at home here.” Craig grinned. “Care for a cup of tea?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Jeff buzzed past Craig and hurried to the stove to remove the pot of boiling water and stifle the awful sound. Without saying a word, he pulled a second cup and saucer out of the cabinet and poured out two piping hot servings.
“Smells great.” Craig and Jeff each took a seat at opposite sides of the small faux Formica table with dropped sides that could be raised, making it large enough to accommodate four people.
“Why aren’t you still at work?” Jeff took a sip of steaming brew. It nearly burned his tongue, but the aroma was so inviting he couldn’t resist. “I didn’t ask you to take the day off.”
Craig chuckled. “You didn’t have to. I got myself fired.”
“What!” Jeff knew his friend hated the job at the bank, but it was still a consistent salary that allowed him to continue living in Brighton. Craig had made it clear on many occasions that he didn’t want to live far from the center of Boston, and without a certain level of income he’d end up at least thirty minutes outside the city. “How did that happen? I only spoke with you a little over an hour ago.”
“That’s right.” Craig sipped his beverage. “The tea’s perfect. Thanks.”
“My pleasure, now open your mouth and talk, and not about the weather.”
“Well, it does happen to be pretty damn nice outside.”
“I’m sure it’s just peachy. Now dish and do it fast.”
“You always know how to get to the point when it’s someone else’s story. How about giving me the short, or long if you prefer, version of Derek the Deranged.”
“Nice title. You have a way with words.”
“I just call it as I see it. How about you dishing first since you’re the one in my apartment.”
Jeff ran a finger around the rim of his cup. “He came close.”
Craig remained silent.
“He got really angry about me looking at another guy.”
“Just looking?”
Jeff nodded, biting his lip. “He flipped the table.”
“That extremely expensive glass table you bought just a couple of weeks ago? The one that looks like it belongs in a palace?”
“Yes.” Sighing, Jeff continued. “He got angry and flipped it over. It shattered.”
“That fucking prick. He could have hurt you this time. I’m not letting him come back for you again, even if it’s on his fucking hands and knees.”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. He’s having someone bring my things here later today. Before dinner.”
“Good.”
“Craig, it’s over. I have nothing.”
Craig rubbed his soft palm up and down Jeff’s arm and squeezed his shoulder. Jeff watched as the muscles in Craig’s arm pulsed. His friend sure was cut. Jeff remembered the last time they’d been at the gym together. Every guy, gay or straight, had been captivated by Craig’s six-pack. The man was the model of a perfect physique at an even six feet tall, all his muscles formed right where they should be, and not a blemish in sight. His wavy blond hair was the perfect icing on the cake, especially when it rested across his tanned forehead.
Everyone wanted to look like Craig. It was a wonder some magazine hadn’t grabbed him for their Model of the Year. He was the picture of a Mr. Everybody with a bod and looks that everyone wanted.
“Hey, I’m trying to be supportive, but you seem a million miles away. What’d you put in the tea?”
Jeff snickered. “Sorry. Just daydreaming.” Jeff sat back as Craig dropped his hand. “I’m not going back, don’t worry. He scared me this time, really scared me.”
“Did he lay one finger on you? If he did—”
“No, no.” Jeff waved his hands back and forth. “He didn’t touch me. I think he knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, if he ever laid a hand on me in that way, you’d probably kill him.”
Craig winked. “Or severely maim him at the very least.”
“You take such good care of me.” Jeff rested his hand over Craig’s relishing the warmth they shared.
“You’re probably the
