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Phillip’s behavior had begun to change after Charles began his affair with John. Phillip idolized Charles so much that he’d begun to emulate the fabulous life Charles led. We’d spent more and more time with those two than with Charles and his wife, Julia, our dearest friend. That was the reason for me begging out of the last dinner. Phillip had become the gay man he claimed he despised. He used to believe that overt gay men acting handsy and filthy was beneath him, but his behavior as of late undermined his previous stance.
“Please, Hayes. I did not grind on Michael,” he argued. “And if I had, you know I’m only like that after I drink.”
I almost wanted to buy the excuse but I was so focused on something odd, perhaps familiar, about the two of them when they were near each other, that I couldn’t let it go. “But you didn’t grind on anyone else,” I reminded him. “Least of all your partner.”
“But everyone else was up in your grill all night,” he countered. “What about that? How about you calm the fuck down with the accusations.”
I gave him my best death glare.
He knew better than that. He knew I didn’t allow peopleup in my grill,as he said. He continued with his denial defense. “You’re seeing shit. You’re just mad at Charles.”
“And you suddenly sound defensive, Phillip.”
“Maybe you should have begged off of this weekend as well,” he snarked.
I slid out of bed and glared at him. “You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you?”
“What I’d fucking like is to have some fun with my friends.”
He’d hit the wrong nerve. His words suddenly dawned on me. He was beginning to see me as a liability. These werehisfriends, not mine. “Yourfriends?” I asked. “The kind who fuck around on their wives and have open relationships?Those friends?”
Phillip sat up and scooted so his back was against the headboard, letting out a long and annoyed exhale. “I didn’t meanmyfriends. You know what I meant, Hayes. You’ve just become so . . . so . . .?”
I interrupted him. “In the way?”
He slammed his fist on his outstretched thigh. “Jesus!This is getting so old,” he stated. “When did you become so un-fun?”
He’d disparaged my personality once again. In his opinion I’d becomeun-funand it seemed I was dimming his shine as they say.Or killing his vibe?Whatever I’d become in the past few months, which coincidentally matched the timeframe of Charles attaining a side-piece, was no longer enough for Phillip. I walked to the head and ignored the hurtful comment. Being referred to as a downer sounded like being called yesterday’s news, or an anchor around someone’s neck. It didn’t make me feel secure or loved, that was for sure.
At twenty six years of age, Phillip was starting to convince me I was a bummer to be around. I didn’t see myself that way but he continued to bring it up, so was it true? I’d obsessed over getting married and sharing an authentic life with him, but he seemed to be looking in the opposite direction. Perhaps looking at a different future? Was he also looking for a different man to join him on his journey offun-ness?
I couldn’t spend the balance of the weekend feeling sad and undermined by my partner, so I decided to bite my lip and came back to the end of the bed. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. He looked at me with disdain like he didn’t believe me. “I’ll try to have more fun the rest of the weekend. I promise.”
“So you agree you’re kind of a downer around our friends?”
I held my tongue and an overwhelming need to tell him to fuck off. An apology wasn’t enough for Phillip. He always enjoyed being right or winning an argument. I guess I’d never noticed. Or maybe because we argued more regularly? And if he was right, that was on me, wasn’t it?
“Yes,” I agreed. “And I’ll do better the rest of the trip.”
“And you’ll be nicer to Michael while you’re at it? Give him a chance?”
I turned my back and hid the pain ripping across my face. I forced myself to swallow my pride and stepped toward the built-in dresser in our room. The matching piece of furniture had a giant mirror above it so I steeled myself before Phillip’s face came into view behind me. “Sure. Why not.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Bo
Iwiped the mirror to clear the fog from my shower, tugging on pieces of hair and assessing its length. I usually get a haircut twice a year. Mr. Toller, the onlytruebarber in Beaufort, would buzz it completely off and then I’d let it grow until it drove me crazy once it touched my ears. I was at that point now with a mop of blond hair that would become brighter and more bleached during the summer. Between fishing in salt water and swimming in the river, I was basking in the sun most days. My hair hung halfway over my eyes and I was constantly whipping my head to the side to keep it out of my face, tucking the lengthening sides behind an ear. Jamie was always jealous of my beach-bum hair because he loved the color. He’d said many times that besides my killer blue eyes, it was my best quality.
After running a dab of gel through my thick hair, I stood naked looking at the narrow mirror I’d attached to the back of my bathroom door. The workouts in town were paying off. My chest was fuller and my shoulders were rounding with muscle, assisting with their broad appearance. I could count a four pack, but if I sucked in my gut and leaned a particularly uncomfortable way, two more would appear. I didn’t think I could possibly do any more sit-ups to achieve my goal of a true six-pack, but I knew I’d keep trying.
My hands ran down my flat stomach and I outlined my obliques with my fingers. When I stared at myself like this I thought I looked pretty good, but I still felt inferior to the other guys at the gym.
There was one thing about me when showering at the gym that didn’t intimidate me. I was above average in the cock department and there were many instances where I caught other dudes checking me out. On occasion there’d be a glance and an eyebrow of interest raised, but I had zero clue if it was an invitation to explore or if I was imagining things. In a town as small as Beaufort, there were limited chances of meeting other gay men so I figured they were just comparing their own dicks to mine.
The past two years had been a bust on the sex side of things and I missed it. Lucas said he knew a couple of guys who’d be interested in meeting me but I always bailed, figuring who’d want to be with a kid who lived in a shack on a river?“Dude, you’re fucking crazy hot,”he’d said.“Who wouldn’t want to date you?”I assumed he was just being nice but I did appreciate the kind words about his evaluation of me.
I cupped my balls and lifted them up. My cock flopped to the left slightly. Jamie told me once that it leaned left because I was left handed and jacked it with that hand. Ever since then I’d rotated hands but the curve still went to the left. I stepped closer to the mirror to check my cock. It was big. I liked that it was.
The longer I stared at my cock, the bigger it grew, stiffening and jutting out. I ran my hands along its length and stroked back and forth, admiring the size and the huge mushroom head. “You’re a big boy,” I whispered, leaning back to exaggerate its size, looking all porn star-ish.
