“Of course I have.I’ve had loads of them.I meant what does it feel like togivesomeone a blow job?”
He went back to applying glue.“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On the situation.On my mood at the time.”
“Do you like giving them?”
He shrugged.“They can be hard work.If you want to do it right.”
“It feels likework?”
“Sometimes.Except I’m not getting paid.”
“Sometimes you like to, though, right?”
“Sometimes.”
“I think I’d really like doing it.”I’d wanted to say that for a long time, and I felt safe telling him now.
“Some people do,” he said.
“Do you likegettingblow jobs?”
“Fuck yeah,” he said.
“Noted.”I tried not to grin.But I was also scared he’d call my bluff.
He didn’t, though.
––––––––
One night, a week afterhe finished his acting job, when neither of us had to work the next day, we went to Deep Ice again.We got on the dance floor, and it was so packed we could hardly move, and we were pressed against each other for a second.I wouldn’t have had the balls to touch him like that otherwise, but it was heaven while it lasted.It was way too loud and crowded to stay, so we left early.The weather was mild, so we walked back to my place.I walked so close that I kept jostling him and saying sorry and then doing it again, and he pushed me playfully, and we laughed.I wanted him, like I had last time we’d gone to the club.But I was sober, so I didn’t tell him.I hadn’t had a drink since the day he’d moved in.I guess I’d quit drinking for him.
Then, at the end of the month, just after he started a new acting job, he came home, took out his wallet, counted out a bunch of cash, and put it on the table in front of me.
“That’s my half of last month’s rent,” he said.
A couple weeks earlier, he’d asked me how much rent I was paying.I’d thought he was just curious.
“You don’t have to—”
“I just got paid for my last job,” he said.“I can afford it, and I’ve been living here for almost a month.Take the money.”
And because he looked like he wouldn’t let me refuse, I took it.
Then he opened his wallet again and took out some more money.“And unless you’re planning to kick me out, here’s half of next month’s rent too.”
I stared at it on the table.That was probably all the money he had.I didn’t want to take it from him.
“I owe you,” he said.
“You don’t.”How could I explain that just having him here was worth more than any money?
“Take it,” he said.
I took it.Then I went to my bedroom to put it away.I sat on my bed, thinking.He was paying half the rent.Like we were roommates.Which we were.But I didn’t think of him as a roommate, and I didn’t want to think of him that way.
