Jeff lowered his head. “I’ll head into the bathroom to freshen up, and then we can visit the Music Box. Maybe letting off some steam on the dance floor will do us both some good.”
Craig nodded, rushing off to his bedroom to change. Taking off the cargo pants he wore when hanging around the apartment, Craig sat on the bed, his eyes wide as he stared at his tented briefs. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Craig whispered to himself in the solitude of his own room, listening to the faucet running in the bathroom. “How can you have the goddamn hots for your best buddy? Damn, it’s practically incest.”
In an attempt to change his focus, Craig thought back to the early days with Jeff, the first day they’d met at track practice. There were six long-distance runners on their high school track team. The coach paired them for running safety, and they were off. Most of the time they ran alongside the Charles River. The atmosphere was great, and it was an easy path to follow. On occasion, if Jeff took a slight lead, he loved to steer them down the streets surrounding the Massachusetts Institute of Technology on one side of the river or Boston University on the other.
They would run for miles and never get bored with, or tired of, either the running or each other. Several of the guys on the team were gay. It seemed to be the nature of the sport. Craig wondered if others had been as influenced as he had been by the book The Front Runner. It was almost like he wanted to make up for the ending by being a great, long-distance running success.
His first hook-up was with… what the hell was his name? It didn’t matter. He had a tight ass, great legs, and no zits. Better than most in high school. He was the first guy to give Craig a blow job and the first he’d met who was so firmly locked in his closet he’d tried to beat the crap out of Craig for trying to touch his arm in front of the rest of the team.
It was then that Craig had learned sex and love didn’t have to be associated. He could get off, get blown, and fuck anyone without getting involved. He wouldn’t get hurt physically or emotionally. It had seemed to work for him ever since, and Craig planned to get some more practice at the Music Box. A club full of hot, eager dicks and asses, and no one encouraging or insisting on an attachment that might lead to pain.
“Craig,” Jeff yelled from outside the locked bedroom door, “are you ready yet? And why’s your door locked? Since when are you so modest with me?”
Shaking his head and blinking, Craig looked down. Memories of high school and what’s-his-name with the strong left jab had certainly helped calm him. The question was, why hadn’t thoughts of Jeff, and why had he felt the need to lock the door? Craig shook his head, refusing to even marginally address the subject. “Be right there. I’m just picking out something that’ll attract the hottest guys.”
Craig heard Jeff snicker. “Then don’t wear anything. They all adore your six-pack, and your cock would certainly get my attention.”
“It’s not your attention I’m looking for.” Craig wanted to take back the words the minute they flew out of his mouth.
No more conversation was exchanged through the door. Craig tossed on a pair of tight fitting, dark wash jeans and a black T-shirt. He looked in the mirror. “Definitely hot.” He combed his fingers through his hair and left it at that. “Now, if you keep your mouth shut, you may not alienate anyone else.”
Stepping out of the room he spotted Jeff by the door. He wasn’t wearing anything special, but leaning against the wall, he looked so thoughtful, his eyes looking toward the ceiling and his long neck—shit! Craig couldn’t imagine where all these crazy ideas were coming from. It must have something to do with being fired.
“Let’s get out of here. We’re both suffering from cabin fever and need to head out into the world.”
“You mean we need to get laid, or at least you do.” Jeff opened the door to the apartment and slipped out ahead of Craig.
“About that remark before, I didn’t—”
Jeff cut him off, his lips a tight, thin line. “What remark? Nothing to discuss. Let’s go dance, preferably not with each other.”
Craig winced. He detected an uncomfortable edge in the tone of his friend’s voice. It was a sound Craig wasn’t familiar with at all. He’d heard Jeff angry, distraught, even in pain, but this sounded like some sort of hurt resignation he hadn’t come across, and yet, somehow, he felt the same way.
THE Music Box was practically filled to capacity by the time Jeff and Craig arrived. The ride on the T and subsequent walk seemed to have relaxed both men.
Jeff looked around the room. “It amazes me how many of these guys think this is the place to find love and romance.”
Craig grinned. “Boy, did they make a wrong choice if that’s what they’re after.”
“Do you think there’s any place out there for a gay man who wants to find the love of his life?” Jeff knew he sounded like a starry-eyed kid, but he didn’t want to settle for an eternity of tricks or dead-end relationships.
“I have no idea.” Craig could feel his body responding to the loud rhythms pumping through the sound system. “It’s never been a priority for me.”
Jeff squeezed Craig’s arm and mumbled to himself knowing his hunky friend was focused on finding the perfect conquest for the night. “More’s the pity.”
“Come on. I’ll buy you your first drink. We’ll toast to your new-found freedom.” Craig led the
