Page 23 of The Key Holder

“I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know. Just think of it as therapy.”

“With my stepson?”

“Ex-stepson. Just think of me as one of your bros.”

“I don’t have many bros.”

“Well, now you have me.”

Ford continued, “I was talking about my body. Most guys just want the physical me.”

“So they do want your dick.”

“My dick is part of my body so you’re technically right.”

“I knew it!” I was tempted to savor my micro-victory and continue discussing Ford’s body but that would make me look like all these other dudes, and I couldn’t have that. If Ford was ever going to consider me as a potential partner, I couldn’t be some desperate twink falling all over himself to be the next one to ride the Ford Express.

Wait. Am I seriously considering Ford as more than a fantasy?

I didn’t need to ask because I already knew the answer.

Before I could really wade into the mire of consequences that situation would create, I realized Ford was still talking.

“It just gets old. Everywhere I go, guys only see me for my body. They don’t ask what I’m feeling or thinking, what kind of art I like, what I’m scared of. It gets exhausting when you’re seen by most people as an object instead of a person. Is it too much to ask for someone to see beyond the exterior?”

Whoa.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he added. “I made it awkward.”

“No, I’m glad you told me,” I said. Despite the edible, the reality of Ford’s situation melted all other distractions away. It was easy to focus on him. “I gotta ask though, where’re your bros? You’re the definition of a bro magnet. Aren’t you still close with any Team USA guys?”

Ford rolled onto his back, shielding his face from the sun with his forearm, before answering. It was hard to resist not ogling his package but I did.

“We’re social media close, not confess-your-deepest-fears close.”

“There isn’t anyone?”

“Fuck!” He covered his face with his hands. “This is so depressing,” he mumbled through his fingers. “This makes me sound like I have no friends.”

“I hate to break it to you, but it sounds like you don’t, though I’m at a loss as to why. You’re outgoing, you’re friendly, you’re educated.”

“And I look like Thor.”

“Well, that should only help things!”

“It helps me in all the wrong ways. It only gets me bros that wanna get fucked,” he said, adding a heavy sigh before resting his hands on his stomach. With his eyes now closed, my gaze drifted down. His chest was glistening with sweat and he was absent-mindedly fingering his belly button.

Fuck, that’s hot.

I knew my eyes were probably bulging out of their sockets, but fuck…it seemed his swelling package was trying to make a break for freedom. Suddenly my goose-pimpled penis remembered it was a cock. Either talking about his feelings turned Ford on, or it was just that big.

I watched his chest rise and fall, knowing full well I was being completely and utterly inappropriate with my staring. This was exactly what he was complaining about—being objectified. Only thought of as a body, a thing. But I had been listening to him too. We were connecting, weren’t we?

“Did I say too much?”

6