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“It’s not serious.”
“And you sound disappointed about that. Ooh, I feel for you, Troy.”
I didn’t even realize until I said the words how disappointed I sounded, but fuck if Walker isn’t right.
“Shouldn’t you be supervising the noob?” I say. “We don’t need another leak like we had on Friday.”
“Come on. He made an innocent mistake. He’s doing fine. Don’t give him any hell because I’m giving you some.”
I don’t actually have anything against our new employee. Hell, I made plenty of rookie errors when I started out. It just seemed like an easy way to get the conversation off whatever Walker’s picking up on from me.
“If you keep on going like this,” I tell him, “it’s not the noob you’ll be worried about.”
“A threat? If I keep talking, am I going to wind up under one of these cars? Get a wrench up my butt? What you got that I haven’t heard?”
“Jesus, Walker, I was just gonna threaten to call in sick on Saturdays.”
He rolls his head back for a laugh. “I guess you know how to hit a guy where it really hurts. Gonna have to report you to HR for that one.”
I know he’s playing. This is kind of our thing. “Tell Al you were running your mouth, and he’ll probably let you off with a warning.”
Walker’s about to reply when the front door chimes.
“Don’t pretend you thought of something clever but have to get to that,” I warn. “We both know you could’ve made that guy wait for fifteen minutes before acknowledging his existence.”
“Guess it’s his lucky day,” Walker says as he heads off.
Guess a lot of people are getting lucky this weekend.
When Walker’s out of sight, I rub the tender spot on my neck, a souvenir from A to remind me of last night. As if I need a reminder.
I press down until it stings. Just a little. Just enough.
Why does that feel so good?
As much as I cherish this gift he gave me, my memory will outlast anything he could have done to my body, and I fucking hate that everything feels so temporary.
The fuck. The hickey. My cum across Atlas’s torso. All those things fade too quickly.
I wish I could inscribe my name on him permanently, like with a tattoo. Maybe in that original spot from our bet senior year. Or maybe up the side of his torso.
No, not the right spots.
Down the back of his neck?
No, still not good enough.
Stop! It doesn’t matter.
I force myself to get back to work, and after knocking out my last hour, I head back to the house and jump in the shower. Having seniority at Alpha Theta Mu means I’m one of the lucky few who could apply for a private bathroom, and after two years sharing with the other guys, I cherish every moment of it.
When I get out, I wrap a towel around my waist and approach the mirror, noticing Atlas’s handiwork again.
A smile tugs at my lips, not only because of the mark, but because it reminds me of late nights at McDonald’s, the steamy make-out session in the green room, the jerk-off in the shower, and most importantly, the sensation of being inside him.
I grab my phone off the counter and message him on Instagram:You left me a real shiner. Asshole.
Don’t know why I’m pretending it bothers me, when I sure as hell wasn’t acting like that this morning.
