Chapter Twenty

Making Excuses

I’m kind of a hypocrite. That scene in movies where the hero wakes up in an unfamiliar room and doesn’t recognize where he is always struck me as really fake and contrived. I’d had a lifetime of waking up in different rooms day after day, and never once did I not remember a place. But when I woke up in Ira’s bed, the touch of his body actually sorta warm, I gazed around with bleary eyes. For a second, just a second, I had no clue where I was.

Then Ira whispered, “Good morning,” and it all came flooding back.

I froze up for a moment, and covered it by flexing my hips and wincing.

“Sore?” Ira mumbled. His voice was still rumbly and deep with sleep. It had no right to sound so adorable.

“A little,” I confessed. Nothing so bad I couldn’t move, but a little.

He kissed my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” I said, and felt him hiding his grin against my back.

His hand stroked absently up my arm. “You wanna grab a shower first?”

“What, no two-fer?” I drawled. “I’m surprised at you, Mr. Romantic.”

A wolfish grin spread across his mouth. “Oh, trust me, getting you naked and soapy is high on my list of things to do. But there isn’t room here. The downside of cottages, I guess.”

“I guess,” I said wryly.

He laughed, and rolled away. “The bathroom’s right across the hall.” He pointed.

I nodded and shifted to swing out of the bed. Before I stood up, I noticed something sticky on my hip. It was last night’s condom, dried and crusted to me.

“Eww!” I grimaced, and gingerly pulled it off with two fingers.

“Uh, sorry.” He looked abashed. “I forgot about it.”

“How can you forget you’re wearing a condom?”

Ira tipped a shoulder. “What can I say, you wore me out.”

I huffed, and he smothered a laugh in his palm.

“There’s a garbage can on the other side of the nightstand,” he said.

Holding the condom out in front of me, I walked around to the little plastic garbage. Releasing my two fingers, it dropped into the can. When I turned around Ira’s shoulders were shaking.

“What?” I demanded, crossing my arms.

“That,” he tried, gasping for air, “was the gayest thing I have ever seen you do.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well next time we’ll semen-encrust the condom to your body.”

“No, thanks,” he said brightly. “Anyway, I was gonna say. While you’re showering I’ll look around and see if I can find you a shirt to wear.”

“Okay, sounds good.” I headed for the door.

“You’re a lot skinnier than me, though,” he added. “It might have to be from when I was twelve.”

I flipped him off as I left the room. “Kiss my ass, Ira.”

“Gladly!” he called after me.

Ira had only sporty, jock-smelling stuff in his bathroom, but it was better than being dirty. Shucking my shirt, I stepped into the hot spray. The water pounded over me and I relaxed bit by bit. As the tension left I felt kinda stupid for being tense in the first place. I had stayed the night and nothing had happened. The world continued to rotate firmly on its axis, and the sky hadn’t burst into flame. Maybe letting my hair down every now and then would be okay.

Once my shower was over, I was kinda at a loss about what to do next. But I had a brain blast. After I toweled off, I left the towel around my shoulders, hanging down on my chest. Looking in the mirror, I grinned. Perfect.

Naked apart from that, I went back to Ira’s room to retrieve my jeans. He wasn’t there, but I heard movement down the hall. I slipped on my pants and padded out to see what was what.

Ira was sitting at his kitchen table munching thoughtfully on a bowl of fruity loops. There was another bowl and spoon sitting on the table next to the box of cereal. He looked up at my approach.

“Oh, hey.” He gestured with his head toward the couch. “Shirt’s on the end, there.”

I picked it up and shook it out. It was bright red and narrowed at the waist. Making sure I was turned away from him, I slid the towel off my neck and quickly pulled the shirt on.

“A slim fit t-shirt, Ira?” I turned around with canted brow. “Really?”

He shrugged. “It’s from my post-coming out period. Like immediately post-coming out.”

“Gotcha,” I nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, bashful grin in place. “It looks better on you.”

“Duh.”

He laughed. “Well, I’ll go get showered real quick and then I’ll take you to your car.”

“‘Kay,” I said, moving to the table. “Sounds good.”

On the drive into town neither of us said much. It wasn’t an awkward silence though. Ira had the radio on in his car, which I realized was satellite feed, and we cruised along with tunes playing. Every little ways Ira would shoot a glance at me, and then look back at the road with a grin. I’d asked him if there was something in my teeth, but he’d just repeated that line from last night about liking to look.

While Ira showered I had chewed up my own bowl of cereal, and then gone back to the bedroom to gather my stuff. Thankfully, Ira hadn’t moved anything. I pulled on my shoes and socks, and slipped my knife back where it belonged. I bunched up my white t-shirt and zipped it up into my jacket pocket. After that, I just had to wait for Ira to finish showering.

The bumpy road from Ira’s place to the main highway wasn’t exactly my best friend. Despite how much I may have enjoyed last night’s festivities, it was still quite the work out. My sore body felt every bump and dip in that dirt road. My ass, especially, was protesting the treatment. I couldn’t really complain too much. Just thinking about last night made my dick twitch.

All in all, I still wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about it. But I knew I had enjoyed it, and nothing bad had happened. My identity was safe, though it had taken some fancy footing, and the status quo remained. How long I could keep that up, I wasn’t sure. But I’d burn that bridge when I got there.

We pulled into the parking lot at the city park to find my little car right where I’d left it. Ira killed his engine and we just sat there for a minute.

“Well,” he said slowly, “here we are.”

“Yep.” I turned to look at him. “I had a good time last night. Even though I don’t usually do that…I’m glad I did.”

He smiled softly, and reached for my hand to give it one last squeeze. “Me too.”

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, so I opened the door and got out. Before shutting it I leaned back in.

“If you wanna wait a sec, I keep extra clothes in my car,” I said, indicating the red shirt. “I can have this right back to you.”

“Nah,” he said. “Keep it. Besides.” His grin turned wide. “That way I have an excuse to see you again.”