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“Of course I know you didn’t mean it, but you have a point. Not about the hitting, but yeah, I had an emotional affair with your father.”
Jay shook his head and chuckled. “I gotta say, Scott. I would never have thought you were capable of doing something like that. Writing love letters to a prisoner? Scandalous!”
I slapped my hands to my cheek to cover how red they must have gotten at his teasing. “They weren’t love letters!”
“Uh-huh.”
“Jay!” Thank god our conversation had taken a lighter turn. Maybe someday it would be just like before.
32
GRIFF
“Scottie, aren’t you ready yet?”
I pushed on the bedroom door but encountered resistance. “Don’t come in!” Scottie cried. “I’m almost ready.”
I chuckled. “Seriously? I’ve seen and eaten every part of you already. What do you have to hide?”
“Just five more minutes, please.”
“All right. Take all the time you need. I’ll be in the living room.”
Five minutes might not be such a bad idea after all. I slipped out of the apartment to the one next door and rapped a few times. The lock spun, and the door opened. I blinked several times at the guy who’d answered the door. He was tall and slender, with long hair caught on top of his head in a messy bun, his face made up, though subtly, with blush, mascara, and lipstick.
What the hell! I hadn’t known Jarrod for long, but we’d talked enough, and the guy in front of me didn’t seem to suit the image I had of my boss/friend. Especially not after he’d emphatically said he was straight the morning I woke up in his bed.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Jarrod’s friend.” He swept his gaze over me.
“Tyler, who’re you talking to?” Jarrod came up behind the guy, wearing jeans, but the buttons of his shirt were undone. Crimson tinted his cheeks when he saw me. “Griff.” He took the boy by his arms as if I hadn’t already seen him and shoved him behind him. “What are you doing here?”
“I was double-checking whether the rooftop’s ready. Didn’t know you were busy entertaining.”
Jarrod was the one who’d suggested I use the rooftop for my dinner date with Scottie. Since we went out last week, I’d been determined to make more time for him, so we had a date tonight as well. Scottie thought we were going to a restaurant, but the second Jarrod had mentioned the rooftop, I’d jumped on the idea of having privacy.
“Who? Tyler?” He laughed, but the sound was forced. “He’s just a friend stopping by for a nightcap before I drive him home. And yeah, I let the caterer up, and everything’s set up just the way you wanted it. I also did you a solid and slipped the cleaner an extra hundred bucks to clean up for you when you’re done.”
“Thanks, man, I appreciate it.” A better friend I couldn’t have asked for. “Anyway, have a good night. It was nice to meet you, Tyler.”
“Err, same to you.”
The door closed behind me, and I grinned. Friend, my foot. If that guy was just a friend to Jarrod, Scottie and I weren’t having an actual date tonight but seeing a priest to take vows of celibacy. Not likely.
I returned to the apartment, still chuckling.
“I’m ready.” Scottie smoothed his palms down his pant legs. “Griff, please don’t stare.”
How could I not? I’d never seen Scottie dressed like this. His pants were the same nude pink that formed the base of the striped vest-like corset he wore over a white long-sleeved dress shirt. The vertical stripes of the vest outlined his slender figure, while the pants fit so snugly his junk made an imprint on the fabric. I’d heard the blow dryer running earlier but wasn’t prepared for the tousled, shiny, blond hair that framed his pixie-like face.
“Griff,” he whispered. “Say something.”
“I’ve never been more aware of how limited my vocabulary is. I can’t find the words to describe how stunning you look.”
His eyes softened, and a shy smile played on his lips. Scottie had grown so much since we started going out together. He no longer stuttered with every word, and he was getting bolder about his choices. I loved that he was experimenting with different outfits. Not that I gave a damn about fashion. Jeans and a t-shirt were good enough for me any day, but even I had tried tonight. I’d traded my jeans for a pair of khakis, and I’d sprung for a dress shirt.
I shook my head, trying to find the words he was waiting for. “You look…amazing,” I ended lamely. I didn’t possess the words that did him justice. He was a beautiful boy, and my heart swelled with pride and love over how well he put himself together for our date.
