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“We definitely had a lot in common, but we had our differences, too.”
“Like what?”
He followed me across the apartment, and I thought about that as I took the bag from him and stuck it in the fridge. Then I turned to Lark and said, “There was some superficial stuff, like the fact that he loved sports and I could take them or leave them. He also had the worst taste in movies, and we could never agree on what to watch. But the main thing was that he was an only child from a very wealthy family, and that shaped the way he looked at the world. He tried really hard not to be a spoiled rich kid, though. I think that’s actually why he became a firefighter, because he felt he had something to prove.”
Lark seemed to mull that over before saying, “Thanks for telling me all of that. I didn’t know if it was okay to ask about him.”
“You can ask me about anything, Lark. Nothing’s off limits.”
“It doesn’t hurt to talk about him?”
“A little,” I admitted. “It probably always will. But talking about him brings up good memories too, and that’s important. It reminds me to be grateful for the years he lived, instead of just focusing on the fact that he died.”
Lark looked up at me with a lot of emotion in those big doe eyes. “I think I understand.”
I brushed a lock of hair out of his face and told him, “If these questions are coming from a place of insecurity, let me say this. I didn’t let you into my life because I wanted another Travis. I let you in because you’re an amazing individual, and there’s no one in the world like you. You make me happy, and you shake things up, and wow, did I need that. I’d let my world sort of fold in on itself and become really small these last few years. But meeting you has felt like throwing open the windows after a long winter and letting in a burst of fresh air.”
He gave me the most beautiful smile and said, “I like that.”
“Come on.” I took his hand and led him toward the door. “Let’s get out of here and go to that sex shop, before the couch tempts both of us into flopping down on it and staying there all night.”
I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t Buckingham Phallus. It wasn’t just the puntastic name that took me by surprise. The sex shop was big, clean, well-lit, and more than a little kitschy—not at all the dank, dimly lit, and regrettably sticky pit of depravity some part of me had been picturing.
Just inside the clear glass front door—no tinted windows here—were two male mannequins dressed like British palace guards…kind of. They wore the tall, traditional black hats, but their uniforms consisted of black patent leather thigh-high boots, along with jock straps depicting the Union Jack in sequins. One mannequin held a Pride flag, and the other held a small pink flag with a crown and the saying, “God Save the Queen.” That was all so…festive.
We made it all of five feet into the shop when someone shouted, “Lark!”
A huge, muscle-bound, and strikingly attractive blond guy was rushing toward us, and as soon as he reached my companion, he scooped him up in a bear hug. Okay, so what was with the instant pang of jealousy I felt?
I expected Lark to be all bent and mangled after being crushed in that massive embrace, but he seemed no worse for wear when the blond finally let go of him. “Dylan, meet Seth,” he said. “He’s my housemate Casey’s brother, and he works here. Former housemate, I mean. I have to stop calling him that.”
Seth flashed a toothpaste commercial-perfect smile at me and stuck out his hand as he said, “Good to meet you, Dylan. Or have we met before? You look kind of familiar.” When we shook hands, I tried not to act like an alpha asshole and crush his hand, but I also made sure my grip was nice and firm.
“You know some of the same people,” Lark said, as Seth met my grip with one just a hair firmer. “Nana Dombruso, for one.”
“That must be it,” Seth said, as he released my hand. “Maybe we’ve been to some of the same parties.”
I muttered, “Could be.”
He looked at me curiously before turning his attention to Lark and asking, “So, can I help you find something?”
“No.” That came out louder than I’d intended, and I knew I was being ridiculous. Why did I feel threatened by this guy? He probably meant nothing to Lark. This was just his former roommate’s brother, not my competition. I tried again, softening my tone as I said, “I mean, no thank you. We’d prefer to look around by ourselves.”
Lark took my hand and told his friend, “This is Dylan’s first time in a sex shop, and I think he’s a little nervous.” Oh, great. Why’d he tell him that? It made me sound naïve and sheltered. “I’ll come find you if we have any questions.”
Seth gave Lark’s shoulder a friendly squeeze, which made me feel like stepping between the two of them and puffing out my chest, like a fucking penguin claiming a mate or something. What the hell was wrong with me? Lark wasn’t my property, and I obviously wasn’t the only man he knew in a city of well over eight hundred thousand people.
The blond said, “Sounds good. I’ll be at the register,” and shot me another curious look before walking away.
Lark seemed oblivious to all of that, and he tugged my hand and said, “Come on, let’s start at the sample table.”
On the way to the back of the store, we passed a display labeled “Big Ben,” which featured an alarmingly large dildo on a pedestal with a spotlight on it, surrounded by inch-high plastic royal guards. What a weird place.
The sample table was in three tiers, like a giant, Lucite wedding cake covered in every size, shape, and color of dildo, vibrator, butt plug, and some things I’d never even seen before. Lark picked up a big, hot pink dildo and flipped a switch. Then he started laughing when its top half began buzzing and rotating in a circle. He said, “That seems a little too…”
“Vigorous.”
“Exactly.” He swapped out the pink dildo for a purple, sparkly one with an overall scale pattern and read the label. “Dragon dick,” he said with a grin. “That’s new.”
