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My two hands cup his handsome face. “I won’t leave without saying goodbye, I promise.”
* * *
I barely sleepbut listen to the breathing of Xan. Am I really falling for him? One look at the light from the moon, and the answer is easy. The time on my phone reads 2:45. I slip out of bed, putting on a pair of pants brought in last night from my car. With a new toothbrush courtesy of Xander, it takes me all of ten minutes before I’m ready to leave for the airport.
I watch him sleeping peacefully. I don’t want to leave, but more so I don’t want to wake him. Will it be awkward? Will he push for something? But, a promise is a promise.
Sitting down on the small part of the bed his body is currently sleeping, I nudge him. “Xan, babe?”
His body shoots out of bed. “What? Oh, you’re still here.” He’s surprised.
“I told you I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”
His eyes look for mine. There’s a sparkle in them. “Thanks for keeping your promise to me, Clark.”
His statement leaves me wondering, do those around him break their promises often? But I know the one person who does. His piece of shit father. I have this anger for the man I’ve never thought I’d have. Sure, he’s an asshole. I understood that too early, it was one reason I always assumed Xan was an asshole, too. At the end of the day, he’s like any other child who doesn’t want to let his father down.
He pushes from the bed, and my hand makes contact with him. “No, stay in bed.”
He pulls for my fingers and kisses each one. “Let me walk you out. No reason to be slinking off in the middle of the night like this was a mistake.”
I know what he’s waiting for. “You’re not a mistake, Xan,” I reassure him, and the smile on his face says it all.
“Come on, Farmer. Got to get you to New York, baby. You have a city to take over.”
He gives me confidence and the last thing I thought I’d ever get from Xander Lynol was confidence. Of course, I never thought he’d save my life.
“Xan…” I begin.What is this? What are we? Is there even a definition that can explain us?
We get to the door, and his hand pushes me against it. “It’s okay. We don’t have to say anything. Just don’t go getting famous and forget about me, Clark.”
I lower my head to his, and we stand like this for several seconds. “See you around, Farmer.”
He may say goodbye, but his lips crash to mine, and the kiss says it all, from both of us. I’ll see him again.
“See you around, Lynol.”
I open up the door and almost trip over a bag. I begin to howl, as I give it to Xan. “Looks like your Grubhub finally showed up.” The drink is mostly melted ice and grease stains the side of the brown bag.
“He’s surely not getting a tip at this point.”
I lean in and give him one last kiss, an innocent one on his lips and it’s so natural with Xan.
“Bye, baby,” he says one last time and pulls me down to kiss me on the forehead. “Have a safe flight.”
I’m speechless because it came from his lips like he’s called me baby his whole life. He shuts the door behind him and it’s the first time since I applied to this position that I wished I hadn’t taken the promotion. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I can’t get Xander Lynol out of my system. And I don’t think I want to.
* * *
Two weeksin the Big Apple, and in that time, I’ve moved into a broom closet of an apartment and been assigned more clients than I can count, but I’ve not heard from Xan. But to be fair, I’ve not contacted him either. I didn’t want to come across as pushy or overly sentimental but on our last night together, I realized my feelings for him are intense, having come on faster than anyone else I’ve cared for in a romantic way.
The thoughts of Xan don’t leave my mind often and when they do, I’m reminded of how he held me, not with the intention of getting his next orgasm, but because it seemed as if it was the only thing in this world he wanted to do.
It’s well after ten p.m. when I arrive home to my six hundred square feet apartment. It sits above a butcher shop on one side of the building and a pizzeria on the other side. I lucked out finding a couple who wanted a reputable renter. Little Italy isn’t far from the office and a quick subway ride gets me to work in less than ten minutes. From the doorway, I walk into a small kitchen with a long and narrow island separating it from a living room with enough space for a couch against one wall and a television against the other side. A tall bistro table for two sits on the left-hand side of the living room, just enough space for two people to enjoy dinner. To the right of the living room is a set of stairs that lead to an open loft I use for my bedroom. The only bathroom is up here, but it works for me.
My new furniture was delivered yesterday, but it didn’t take much to fill the space, and because I’m minimalistic to a fault, I’ll have no issue keeping it clean. Having skipped both lunch and dinner, my stomach is mad at me. Pastrami from the downstairs butcher is my favorite new find, and it’s a New York staple. And because I’ve barely stocked my fridge, I tend to rely on the pizza and cold cuts from downstairs. I never knew pastrami on rye could taste so good but with all my fixings, I quickly make myself a late-night meal.
A cold beer and a couple handfuls of chips round out the dish. I sit down to ESPN as my entertainment for the night. My phone buzzes next to me halfway through both my sandwich and sports reels. Glancing over I see his name appear on the screen and forgot I still have him programmed as Money Bags Asshole. My heart quickly speeds up, but I can sense the smile on my face.
