Page 14 of Until the Last Star Fades

“Babe,” Josh groaned, his words slowing down. “Your hair…so soft, so fucking sexy. I wish I could get lost in it, spread out on the pillow beneath me…”

She gave him a wistful smile.

“I’d kiss your neck, suck your boobs…while your hands—” He gasped. “Your hands would play with my hard cock.” He licked his lips. “Baby, remember how good it feels? How wet it makes you? I can’t have you forgetting your MVP, your most valuable…” Josh stared half-lidded into his phone.

Player…

“Penis.” Josh breathed heavily. “MVP, get it?”

Typical guy. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Ahh, babe.” Josh let out a shuddering breath, his eyes needy. “I’m dying here. You should’ve stayed another night. I should’ve made you stay.” He fell into a whisper. “Rye, if I went into my truck, would you…”

She slouched into the cushions. “Josh—”

“Babe, c’mon.” He shivered. “I won’t take long.”

You never do. She exhaled, not budging. “It’s getting late…”

“Oh…right.” He nodded, shoulders slumping. “Rye, I love you.”

“I…” Riley’s stomach pinched. “I love you, too.” The mumbled words slipped through her tight lips without being fully formed, a reflex, a force of habit—a lie, now impossible to pull back. “Night.”

“Night, babe.” He waved and the screen went black. 1:06 A.M. popped up in his place, but sleep would have to wait.

Riley stepped over to the sink, squeezed a green blob of dish detergent into the small basin, and turned on the faucet. The FaceTime conversation replaying in her head, she mindlessly swirled a dish cloth through the water, encouraging bubbles to grow and overtake the dirty stack of plates and utensils. Waiting for the soapy cloud to consume her hands, tears began to sting her eyes. She looked up past the NYU pool schedule tacked to the wall to the Lairds and Liars calendar hanging above the faucet and the appointment circled in blue marker on Monday’s square—11:15 A.M., Brooklyn Health Center.

Seven

Ben jolted awake, his eyes assaulted with a flash of red—a high ceiling coated with an obnoxious slick of scarlet paint. The scent of coffee teased, and childlike voices squealed from afar, chased by a tinny laugh track. Can’t be real kids. TV…cartoons? He rolled to his right and the edge of the lumpy sofa, the coarse but colorful knitted blanket on his bare chest falling toward the floor. Grabbing hold and covering himself, his fingers poked through the blanket’s holes, his blurry eyes focusing, sliding along a black wall to meet two round, tanned—butt cheeks?! What the FUCK? Shifting up on his elbows, his bare heels digging into the sofa, Ben backed into the armrest, creating as much distance as he could between himself and Mr. Rock-Hard Buns crouched in a low squat.

“Hey!” The naked squatter looked over his shoulder. “Sorry, did I wake you? I’m Hunter.” He began to swing around, a musky scent accompanying his arrival.

Oh, good God, don’t! Ben squinted, but it was too late. Mr. Rock-Hard Buns, AKA Hunter, was full-on full frontal, his nine flaccid inches swinging with pride. Ben gulped, his eyes widening. He’s hung like a fucking donkey! He quickly looked away, his eyes scrambling for somewhere safe to land.

“Gotta get my squats done before jogging to the gym.” Hunter held his head high and scratched his head through his close-cropped brown hair. “They warm everything up, ya know?”

No, I don’t know, actually. A stack of men’s fitness magazines on the hardwood floor held Ben’s stare. He cleared his throat and played with the dark hair on his forearm, unsure where to look next.

Hunter leapt into jumping jacks. “Glad you got the keys off my neighbor, let yourself in. I meant to be here when you arrived, but work called. Did you sleep okay? Sorry it’s not big.”

Ben looked up—a big mistake—and got an eyeful of bouncing penis. “Oh, it’s big—”

“What?’ Hunter stopped jumping and scratched his rapidly rising and falling pecs, which were pumped up, hairless, and sculpted to male model perfection.

“Uh, I mean it’s big enough—the sofa, it’s great, thanks.” Ben gave an awkward double thumbs-up and bowed his head, keeping his sightlines PG.

“I know it’s not ideal.” Hunter exhaled heavily, surveying his home. “Most Airbnb guests only stay for a night then go elsewhere.”

Yeah, I wonder why, mate. Ben smiled politely and ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to tame the pieces pointed toward the red ceiling.

“Sorry about…” Hunter casually swept his hand down his naked body. “I usually warm up in my bedroom, but I’m storing stuff in my there for my new business venture. I like to stretch and warm up naked. It lets me see how my body reacts—it’s become a habit.”

“It’s okay, really. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Exactly, dude! Hey, if you don’t mind the sofa, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. Your email said something about a couple weeks?”

“Hopefully, yeah, but I need to find a job, otherwise…” Stomach growling, Ben brushed his hair from his eyes. “I can’t afford to stay on anyone’s sofa. Time’s a-ticking.” He squinted toward the half-tilted window blinds and the gray day peeking in. “Speaking of, what time is it?”