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Me:
You know who it is. Your fabulous neighbor. Damon.
Tomas:
Hmmm
Oh, so he’s a jokester now. I know for a fact that I’m unforgettable. There is no way he’s forgotten me. I made quite the impression. I know I did.
Me:
You remember me just fine. Want to come over for pizza? I can repay you for your bravery by making you eat.
There is a pause and then the three little dots appear on the bottom of the screen.
Tomas:
I’m not gay. Just putting that out there.
A snort escapes me because I could tell from the moment I spotted him. That man would be nothing more than a friend…if that. Not that men like him hang out with guys like me. But it is the twenty-first century. People are different these days. We can be friends.
Me:
And I wasn’t hitting on you. I was just being friendly.
Tomas:
Okay, then pizza it is.
Twenty minutes later, he comes over looking just as filthy as he did under that car, even though his hair is wet and he looks like he showered. Maybe men like this are perpetually dirty. I like that…those dirty, oily hands. I want them to leave streaks on my skin as he rakes them down my body.
Not that I’m going to ogle him or make him uncomfortable as I envision this.
No. We’re friends. We’re going to be the best of friends while I’m out here house-sitting for the next few days. I need a knight in shining armor in case I come into contact with other species out here in the country. I need someone to fight off those evil creatures.
“Ah ha!” I say, as I let him inside. “The pizza should be here any minute. And I ordered some salad and some breadsticks. Oh, and Diet Coke because who can be bothered with liquid calories unless it’s wine, right?”
“Cool,” he says, running his hands down his jeans. “I can do that. I’m hungry.”
“So am I. God, I worked up an appetite waxing. Do you know the level of concentration that takes?”
I let my question linger between us, and Tomas’s eyebrow arches as he says nothing. I’m guessing that’s a no. He’s probably all hairy and rough under those clothes. God, what I wouldn’t give to see that. What I would give to run my hands along the weathered parts of him.
“Well, you’re missing out,” I add and then smirk at him. “You know what, I didn’t offer you anything to drink. Want a beer? Wine? The Diet Coke isn’t here yet.”
“Sure, beer is good,” he says, and I stick my head in the fridge to cool down. Seems my body has a thing for mechanics. Getting all hot and bothered. I’m on fire. A motherfucking furnace.
“Here you go. This work?” I ask, handing him some kind of fancy local brew that Carter’s moms like. Very fancy and posh. Seems like something Tomas wouldn’t like, but then again, what do I know? I apparently know nothing and neither does my dick.
It seems to really like this man despite knowing better. I don’t do straight, and I certainly don’t do questioning. Not that he’s questioning.
“Fancy. Usually I like the cheap shit.”
Bingo bango.
“Yes, well, it’s all we have. Take it or leave it, you cheap snob.”
He shrugs and grabs a bottle opener, popping the top off and letting the cap clink to the counter. He takes a long swig, that Adam’s apple bobbing as he cocks his head.
