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Once I’m no longer under attack, I pull myself up so I’m leaning on my elbow. “Babe, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She throws her hands in frustration. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Logan, you’re in love with Evander. Seeing his attention so focused on someone else, even if it’s someone he’s never met, is affecting you. You’re used to being the most important thing in his life, and somehow, this stranger is starting to upstage you. Of course you’re going to be distracted.”
I blink at Kayla, trying to process everything she just said. Leave it to her to just drop bomb after bomb with no fucking warning.
I couldn’t even make sense of her words. I’m in love with Ev? Like, in love? He’s my best friend, and honestly more than that, almost like a brother. Of course I love him. But I’m notinlove. The woman is fucking insane. First off, I’m straight. I don’t like dick; I’ve never liked dick. I’ve gone to gay bars with Ev before, and even watched a gay porn or two, and it never ever did anything for me. And thinking of Ev like that. Just, no. Right?
I mean, yeah, he’s a good-looking guy. I’m not blind. And he’s so fucking smart. And sure, there’s times I crash at his place and I like to watch him curl up in his oversized chair and read as I play video games. But that’s just because he always looks so at peace with a book, and I like seeing him happy. And the jealousy part? That’s insane. Ev has had both girlfriends and boyfriends before. Hell, I’ve fucking wingmanned for him at bars, and I’ve never been jealous. Why would this guy he never met, a guy we have no idea if he’s gay, straight, in a relationship, whatever, make me jealous?
But Kayla’s just sitting there calm as fuck, the little shit, waiting for me to come to terms with her words. Which I won’t. Because she’s wrong and the whole thing is dumb. Maybe I am distracted by the whole situation, but none of those are the reasons why.
“You’re out of your mind,” I tell her.
Kayla just shrugs, unbothered. “Maybe. But I know what I see. Maybe one day the two of you will see it too.”
She’s just pissing me off and confusing me now. I have the sudden urge to kick her out of my apartment and go to Ev’s place, which would only confirm her stupid ass opinion, so I will not do that. So instead, like a little kid, I just pout at her. “Can we please just drop it?”
She shrugs. “Sure.” Kayla looks down at me and my now obviously soft cock. Fuck. I didn’t even get an orgasm out of this shit night, and I’m not in the mood anymore.
“Wanna watch a movie?” she asks me.
Needing the distraction, and happy to move off the topic of Ev and me, I hand her the remote off my nightstand. “Sure, you pick.”
I scoot up the bed and arrange the pillows so that we can be propped up a bit. My apartment is pretty basic. I never really understood spending money on things like decorations or pictures. I need a bed, a couch, a couple TVs, a coffee table to eat on, and I’m good. Ev forced me to get a small dinette table as well because, and I quote, “I can’t live like a barbarian.” But I only use it the rare times Ev or Mr. C come over.
But pillows, for some fucking reason, are my weakness. I have way too many on my bed, and the fancy shit too, the orthopedic ones that are always cool and take forever to lose shape. I also keep super comfortable throw pillows on the couch for anyone who crashes or if I fall asleep there watching TV. Maybe it comes from the fact that I didn’t have one for like eight years of my childhood, but that’s my one splurge.
I rearrange them so we’re basically in our own little movie pit. Once I’m settled, I open my arm so that Kayla can snuggle in with me. We might not be more than friends and fuck buddies, but I fucking love to cuddle. She’s so small and compact, she fits perfectly into my massive side.
Kayla flips around the channels for a while before she finds something that works and puts the remote to the side. We lie there, cuddled up to each other, laughing and making fun of the movie, and little bit of intimacy is doing someting that sex wasn’t able to do. It takes my mind off of Ev. At least for a while.
EIGHT
LAKE
Ilean my head against the headrest and my eyes start closing on their own volition. Thank gods my Uber driver isn’t a talker. He has a low-key alternative playlist playing softly through speakers, and honestly, it’s perfect right now. It’s exactly the type of music I play when I’m having issues sleeping. Of course, I don’t actually want to go to sleep right now. Falling asleep in a stranger’s car is not acceptable.
I was supposed to be in Columbia for two weeks. It’s been nearly four. The whole operation was a disaster, and of course, the organization didn’t have half of the things I needed. Due to the circumstances and location, I only had minimal communication with my family back home. When I realized I’d be longer than two weeks, I managed to send out one text to River, letting him know I was safe but temporarily delayed and to let Dad know. I told him I’d try to keep him updated as best I could. I received a return text telling me to be careful and that they all loved me, and that was it.
It’s shocking how much I missed them. There’s no doubt now that I’m going through some kind of change, though I still have no idea why. I can’t bring myself to go back to my empty home now, even if it’s the most logical thing. After all, it’s nearly 11 at night, and no one knows I’m back. I know Dad is definitely asleep, and no doubt River and Cooper are as well.
It doesn’t stop me from giving my Uber driver River’s address instead of mine. If everyone is asleep, I’ll just peek in on them, see my niece, and then leave.
As we near the townhouses, I pull out my cell phone. It’s still off, but it’s time to face the music and see what I missed in the last few weeks. It’ll at least keep me from falling asleep for the last ten minutes of the drive.
Once my phone is booted on and off airplane mode, I’m bombarded with missed calls, unread emails, and text messages. Most of the calls are spam, though there is a phone call from Albert Rooke, the lead doctor with the Omega Project. They are the ones handling most of the testing and researching regarding the gene. I called them before my trip to hear their thoughts on a possible surrogacy. It seems that Dr. Rooke has some information he wants to share with me. I quickly put an alarm in my calendar to call him tomorrow when it isn’t so late.
I also have a message from Zoe asking if the three of us can meet up when I’m home. It’s 11 pm on a Friday, so I know Zoe is up since she bartends. I quickly send her a text letting her know I’m back and to see if they want to meet up for coffee tomorrow. I get a thumbs up emoji back and11am good?
I shudder at the thought of getting such a late start to the day, but I realize most people don’t want to be up at 7 on a Saturday. Since I’m just returning, I get tomorrow off, so it’s not like I have to go into the office. I reluctantly agree to the time. At least I’ll be able to get my mocha latte from Dream Beans Cafe tomorrow. I missed my treat I typically indulge in three times a week while away. I know the whole thing is absurd. The place is such a cliché hipster coffee shop with its overpriced drinks, decor, and even the baristas, but I love it. The place is my guilty pleasure.
Finally, my driver turns into my neighborhood. At the last minute, I change the address and tell the driver to go to my house instead. He doesn’t bat an eye. I tell myself it makes more sense. I know that River checked on things a few times and hopefully watered my plants, but I should unpack, take a shower in my own bathroom, sleep in my own bed, and make sure everything is good with my own eyes. Since I’m not meeting Avery and Zoe until 11, I have plenty of time to stop by my brother’s for breakfast to see him and my niece. I quickly put in another reminder to call Dad first thing, to let him know I made it home safely. He’s always up early, even on the weekends.
The Uber driver pulls up in front of my unit. I paid and tipped through the app, so I thank him for being the perfect driver and automatically give him a five-star rating. I turn off the alarm at the keypad and enter my home. Of course, it looks exactly like it did when I was here last. River knows how particular I am. And while he’s not especially neat or organized, he knows to keep my space the way I prefer it. After a quick glance to make sure everything looks good on the first floor, I make my way upstairs, dragging my suitcase with me. My office is still locked, which is expected.
Like the rest of the house, my room looks untouched. I know River opened my windows daily to air it out, which I appreciate so the house doesn’t have the closed-off smell. I leave my suitcase by the door and immediately start stripping. By the time I have my travel clothes off and in my hamper, the exhaustion is finally starting to hit me, and I’m happy I decided to go home instead of going to my brother’s. I eye my suitcase but decide to take a quick shower before even considering tackling that. Maybe it could wait till morning? Though I know in reality I’ll never be able to sleep knowing I still have tasks to complete.
I keep my shower short, just long enough to get the sweat and stink of a long day of travel off. As I’m washing my cock and balls, I consider how long it’s been since I last masturbated. Did I do it once during my trip? I can’t remember, which disturbs me. It’s not something I ever get much pleasure from, more a necessary task, like cutting my fingernails or brushing my teeth, but still, I usually try to orgasm at least once a week.
