Drawing his lip between his teeth, his nerves threatened to choke him. Landon sank his teeth into the flesh, hoping the move would inhibit his excitement. Landon might say he had wished the email there with all the thinking he’d been doing about Robert, but he’d been wishing for thirty damn days.
Landon gripped the laptop carefully, as if he were handling precious fine china, and scooted back to the headboard. His heart rate sped up as he touched the screen to open the message.
Landon,
I’ll be back in DC in a few days. Are you free for dinner?
Robert
Landon only thought his heart had been beating fast before he read the words. Now, it stampeded like he’d come in first in an Iron Man Triathlon and the excitement had released an endorphin overload in his brain. He took a deep breath then read the email again. What did it mean? Asking him to dinner… Like a date? Why would Robert ask him on…shit.
Not a date. It was probably a polite way to give an eviction notice, a way to gently let him know he had overstayed his welcome.
Crap. His chin hit his chest in shame. With two simple sentences, his emotions had run the gamut, from one extreme to the next. He should get whatever it was he had hoped to happen between the two of them out of his head. Of course he had overstayed. Robert had offered his home for a short stay not a permanent move in.
“Dammit!” He hadn’t found a place to live because he fucking liked being among Robert’s things. Even though Robert wasn’t physically in the house with him, the connection to the doctor remained strong. Was he fucking crazy? He seriously needed to get on with his life. This wasn’t healthy behavior. Even the damn feather coincidences Robert had mentioned screwed with Landon’s head. Several times he’d walked into this house to find a feather haphazardly placed between the front door and the guest bedroom. The first time it happened, he’d shrugged it off even though he couldn’t figure out where the feather had come from, but he hadn’t given it much thought until it happened more than once.
Landon dropped his head back until it hit the headboard where he wanted to bang it over and over to knock some sense into all his weird actions and continuous lusting. He knew how this would work. Dinner would be a place for Robert to ease into a polite conversation as to Landon’s exit plans.
The pain in his heart made him frantic. He’d known this day was coming, but he hadn’t known it would feel so final.
If he didn’t answer, would that give him a few extra days?
“Fuck no!” he growled. He should reply to this email and say he’d be out of here tomorrow. He nodded to affirm his thought, but both his head and his heart played a part in his refusal to say those words to Robert.
Be honest. Tell him you have feelings. Tell him you want a date, not an eviction.
In the end, his and Robert’s vastly different places in life held him at a distance. Begging wasn’t his thing, and he made his fingers move to type those words. The sooner he did this, the sooner he could get on with his life.
I can be out of here tomorrow, if that’s what you need.
Sadness and a deep sense of loss overtook him as he pushed send. What the hell had he thought would happen here? Think toward the future, Landon. You need a new game plan. His heart hurt, and it made it hard to think straight.
Okay, so he could get a hotel room for a couple of days until he figured shit out. The ding of a message in the inbox drew his eyes down to the screen. If he didn’t open the email, maybe his heart wouldn’t shatter into a million pieces when Robert thanked him for moving out.
Did this make him one of those weird squatters who parked themselves in someone’s home while they were gone?
Wait, was he a squatter or a stalker?
Shit. Landon again touched the screen to open the message. All the self-doubt and self-reprimand didn’t matter. His heart was in his throat as he read each word.
There’s no reason for you to leave. Stay as long as you like. I’ve booked a room downtown within walking distance to several meetings I have planned—it’s easier access for me. If you’re not free Monday evening, then perhaps Tuesday or Wednesday? Let me know your schedule.
What? Robert had booked a room when he owned this place, his home, that happened to be a few miles from anywhere in downtown DC? What was up with that? Was it believable to book a hotel room to be closer to planned meetings?
Landon didn’t know what to make of it. The doctor was very health conscious, seemed environmentally aware, and the traffic was a motherfucker to deal with. Still, was it worth staying in a hotel instead of his own home?
Landon started to ask that very question, going as far as typing the words, but stopped himself from pushing send. The doctor was a direct guy. If Robert wanted him to leave, he’d say it. Right?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
This newfound insecurity was a fucking killer, and he didn’t know what to say in reply.
As he warred with himself, another email message came through.
If you’re busy,
