I groaned feeling like a total heel.
“That won’t happen again. I have Libe a lot, but I will talk to Maxwell about respecting my space.” Camilo’s silence was not exactly reassuring, but I had called ready to grovel, and I would continue to do so as long as he let me. “Listen, I don’t want to be a pushy asshole, and I’m completely fine with you being done for the night. But before we were interrupted, I was hoping to order something to eat and spend more time with you. I’d still like to do that.”
Camilo started to say something, hesitated, then tried again.
“I’m already home, Tom.”
My usual tactic when I encountered resistance was to retreat and try again later when the odds were more in my favor, but when it came to Camilo Briggs, I had zero chill. The only thing I wanted right now was to see him, touch him, get back the connection we’d had this afternoon.
“I can come to you. I’ll pick something up on the way over there. If you’re up for it, of course.”
More silence.
I was starting to think it really might be best to give up before I made him uncomfortable, when I heard him speak in a very low voice.
“My place isreallysmall. Like your bedroom might be bigger than my whole apartment.”
Shit.
I hadn’t even thought of that. God, my head was so far up my ass sometimes.
“That’s fine.” I went out on a limb and tried to get us back to flirting. “I can get cozy. The more up close and personal the better.”
He chuckled at that. “That’s pretty corny, but I appreciate the effort.” He let out a long breath and when he spoke again, he sounded a little more at ease. “I’m trying to not second-guess myself anymore tonight. Dinner would be nice. I’ll text you my address.”
The relief I felt was almost debilitating.
“Okay, I’m going to head out right now.”
“Just buzz when you get here and I’ll let you in.” As soon as we hung up, I got my ass in gear. I ran downstairs and walked over to the Ethiopian place down the street to pick up some food. We ate there all the time, so I could get them to rush my order. Camilo only lived like twenty blocks from me, so I would be able to get there fast. I had the food and was in a Lyft within twenty minutes.
As the driver navigated the busy streets of Harlem, I tried to think about what I was feeling. I couldn’t remember this much urgency to be with someone, to make things right. With Maxwell, I had just let the current pull me. Let him decide for us what the next step was. When he said it made sense to get married, I went with it, same with the surrogacy. So much of my personal life felt like that.
In business, I wasn’t afraid to work hard or be competitive. But with my personal life, I never felt the urge to get in there, to push.
Not with Camilo. With him, I wanted everything,right now.
Once again I thought of my mother’s words. That once I found the right person, I would know what to do. I really hoped she was right.
I stepped out of the Lyft and rang the bell for Camilo’s apartment. It was a red brick building with a bodega next door. People on the sidewalk were speaking in Spanish, bodies moving in every direction.
Such a New York City corner.
He let me in without asking who it was, and I walked up to his second-floor apartment. I got up to the landing and saw him standing in the doorway. His hair was in a thick braid and he looked like he’d taken a shower. He was wearing an oversized Fordham sweatshirt and seemingly nothing else. My dick throbbed from the sight and I wanted to drop the food on the floor and just go right back to where we’d been when our night got derailed. Instead I tried to keep my shit together before I scared him off.
“I hope you like Ethiopian,” I said, holding up the bag. “I should have texted to ask.”
He shook his head and pushed up for a kiss when I bent down for one. I couldn’t help running my hand over his ass, which was clad in very small briefs.
“Thank you for bringing dinner. I love Ethiopian.”
“How am I supposed to keep it together when you’re waiting for me like this?” His laugh was hoarse and just on this side of filthy; there was just enough brattiness in there that I had to grit my teeth so I didn’t maul him. I nuzzled his neck as he pulled me into the apartment and closed the door. He smelled like coconut and limes.
“Not fair, you had time to shower. I smell like come, sweat, and the patchouli from the Lyft I took up here.” He grinned as he took the bag from me and started pulling containers onto his small counter.
“You smell fine, but you’re welcome to take a shower if you can squeeze into my tiny bathroom. I don’t think my clothes would fit you, but you’d at least wash the sweat off.”
I looked around his place. Itwassmall, like a biggish studio. Right by the door was a little kitchen area with a tall table and two chairs. He had a small love seat against one wall, next to a bookshelf packed with books. His bed was tucked behind a sliding door. It was open right now so I could see into his private space.
