I suppose I should be fair and mention that the house was my idea. We’d been living in an apartment that was pretty cheap. But, at the time, it seemed if we didn’t buy a house soon we’d never be able to. So I pushed for it. Then I pushed for the second mortgage to rehab the kitchen and the bathroom. That doesn’t make his taking the money okay, but it does indicate it wasn’t a plot from the start. To be honest, I like to think of him as the bad guy. Which is easy enough to do when he’s a couple miles away with his pathetic loser boyfriend. It becomes a lot harder when he’s standing right in front of me.
When he arrived that morning, I could tell he’d gone to some trouble with his appearance. He wore a shirt I’d bought him a couple years before and cologne that I’d originally bought for myself but allowed him to co-opt when I liked it better on him. He held two large paper cups full of coffee. I took mine gratefully.
“Where did it happen?” he asked.
“In the garage.”
Without asking permission, he marched through the torn-up kitchen to the back door, which opened into the garage. I followed him tentatively. When we got to the garage he looked around. He took in the now destroyed track Eddie had hung himself from. Jeremy looked at it a moment, then checked out the rest of the garage. Things had been moved. There were footprints in the dust that had drifted in from the street. A few pieces of crime scene tape were stuck inside the garage door. But other than that, it didn’t look like much had happened.
“Do you think it was a sex thing?” Jeremy asked, while studying the cement floor -- as though he might come across a semen stain that would answer his question.
“He was wearing his clothes.”
“How’d you meet him?”
I hesitated. Part of me knew I should just go ahead and lie to Jeremy. But I’d never been able to lie to him. I knew if I tried I’d just bungle it. “I ordered up a massage to celebrate the anniversary of our breakup.”
Jeremy frowned a little. He always frowned when he was thinking hard, and out of character actions on my part always made him think hard. “So he was a hustler?”
I shrugged. I didn’t feel like making a distinction between guys who threw in a little sex after a massage and guys who skipped the massage all together.
“I thought you were broke,” Jeremy said. “How were paying for a hustler?”
“I only paid him once. And I had to skip the electric bill to do it.”
“So you hired him once and afterwards he wanted to date you?” The way he said it made me feel like something wasn’t right about my relationship with Eddie -- and not just the fact that he’d never given me his right name. I might have given it more thought right then and there if Jeremy hadn’t said, “I’m impressed.”
He looked me up and down, re-assessing me. It made me uncomfortable, so I walked back into the house. Jeremy trailed behind me. I regretted not lying about the situation.
“So how was it?” he asked.
“Awful. Someone killing themselves in your garage isn’t all that fun.”
“No, I meant the massage.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is so my business. According to the state of California we’re still partnered.”
I could have countered by asking about his sex life with Skye, but I was afraid he’d tell me. I kept my mouth shut. Jeremy put a hand on my shoulder and said, “Look, I’m just trying to keep it light. I know this must have been terrible for you.”
He seemed sincere when he said it, and without thinking I stepped forward and put my arms around him. I buried my head into his neck, and I nearly started crying. I managed not to by biting down on my lip and taking a few deep breaths. It’s too humiliating to cry in front of your ex. When I caught my breath, I tried to pull away, but Jeremy pulled me closer. He kissed my neck, then turned my chin with a finger and began to kiss me. Kissing Jeremy was like sliding into a warm bath. It was familiar and comfortable and incredibly sexy all at once. His tongue was in my mouth, and we were pushing ourselves together so hard I was afraid we’d each walk away with bruised lips. My hands roamed his body. He wasn’t as angular as he’d been when we first met, but he was still tall and lean. Almost immediately, I could feel his erection straining against the waistband of his jeans.
I pulled away from him and walked into the living room. I sat down on the sofa, a bit uncomfortably because my jeans grabbed at my hard on. Jeremy sat next to me. He was close enough that I knew what he was thinking.
“This is a bad idea,” I said.
“Yeah. It is,” he agreed. Then he leaned over and kissed me again. His lips were so hot I wondered if he was running a fever. I pulled away and ran a hand over his face, feeling the familiar shape of him. Looking into each other’s eyes, it felt like some kind of deep communication, though I couldn’t tell you what we were communicating. Other than I’m here. You’re here.
Jeremy pulled my T-shirt over my head. He ran the ends of his fingers down my shoulders, across my ribs, over my nipples. Pulling me closer, he wrapped his arms around me and slid one hand into my shorts. He slipped his other hand into my hair and kissed me again.
“God, you smell incredible,” he said.
I slipped my hand into his jeans and took hold of his stiff prick. There’s something to be said for the excitement of a
