Sunset Park (6 page)

“Poor baby. So mistreated.” He made to swat my stomach, and I grabbed his wrist. “Be nice.”

“To hell with nice,” he snapped. “I’m tired of everyone messing with me. It’s not my fault I can’t pass for straight like they do. I don’t even want to. What’s so good about being straight? Besides, if you’re not afraid to room with me, why are they so worried about it?”

“I think you’re taking this the wrong way.”

“No, I’m not. They’ve been a pain in the ass ever since we became friends. Especially Nunzio, and lately he’s been worse. I bet he thinks I have some master plan to make you gay that involves slutty drunken blowjobs.”

It was so close to what Nunzio had said that my lips twitched with ill-concealed amusement. David’s eyes widened.

“That asshole said that, didn’t he?”

“Well, not exactly….”

David rose to his knees, looking like he was going to chase Nunzio down and kick his ass. I laughed out loud despite his enraged expression, and I dug my fingers into his arm to prevent him from escaping.

“It’s not funny.”

It was, but I tried to put on a serious face while stymieing his surprisingly valiant attempt to shove me away. I wrapped my legs and arms around him, flipped us over, and pinned him to the floor. The position was suggestive of more enjoyable activities, but David looked closer to decking me than being turned on. He also showed absolutely no concern for his white T-shirt or messy hair.

“You’re not going to confront him about this dumb shit in front of our soon-to-be landlord, man. Calm your tits.”

“Tell him to stop talking shit,” David retorted. “He’s
your
friend.”

“He can be your friend too, if both of you would quit acting like assholes.” He jerked against me, and I pressed him against the floor even harder. After a few moments, the fight drained out of his body. David went slack and looked away. His mouth pressed into a tight line. “It’s not what you think,” I tried again. “It’s not just about you.”

“So what is it?”

I didn’t want to tell him, especially while I had him pinned to the floor, but I also wanted to wipe the unhappy look from his face. If anyone had told me six months ago that I’d be a total sucker for a guy like him, I would have told them to go fuck themselves. Not because it was offensive, but because normally I wasn’t a sucker for anyone.

“Fine.” I released his wrists but left our legs tangled together, my knee between his thighs and my crotch crushed against his. “The night before we talked about the moving thing, Nunzio busted me watching gay porn.”

David glared at me. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Why would I make up something like that?” I braced my hands against his throat and mimed choking him. “I confess my bi-curiosity and you call me a liar?”

“Because you
are
a liar.”

“Okay, whatever. I tried.” I started to get up, but this time he was the one trapping me, wrapping his legs around the backs of my knees to keep me immobile. Not bothering to fight, I collapsed on top of his scrawny ass again. “If that Jewish dude walks up in here, he’s going to think I’m humping you.”

“So?” David locked his legs around me tighter. “What kind of porn? Where? Give me details if you expect me to believe you.”

“I still fail to understand why I’d lie about watching dudes have sex.”

“Because you want to cover for Nunzio being a bag of dicks.”

He really was hung up on Nunzio teasing him. Maybe David had had some bullying experience in his past over the whole blatantly gay thing and it was bringing back bad memories. Or maybe I was just psychoanalyzing him to ignore how good his thigh felt pressed against my cock.

“PornHub,” I said. “The title was, like, horny twink gets fucked hard by tattooed stud.”

David’s brows drew together. “Okay… well… how long was it? I should google it to see if it exists.”

“About twenty minutes,” I said, not missing a beat. “I came before it hit the halfway point. I was already riled up.”

“You’re so deadpan that I can’t tell if this is a joke.”

It said something about me that I’d rather admit to embarrassing things than be called a liar, but the cat was out of the bag. I was already past giving a sweet goddamn. I yanked my phone out of my back pocket, one-handedly tapped the title into the search bar of the browser, and had the video up and going before my better judgment could kick in to point out how awkward this plan was.

The video blared to life—damningly loud in the empty apartment. I swiped my thumb across the bar at the bottom so David could see the good part. The part where the tattooed stud railed the frail twink like a rag doll while pinning him against the floor. It made me bust every time.

Stuttering wails exploded from the tiny speaker of my phone, but I kept my eyes on David. Waiting for him to react to the knowledge that I got off on watching another twink get used. The kid on the video even vaguely resembled David. Except David had nicer lips. And judging from what I could feel hardening in his shorts, he also had a bigger dick.

My mouth went dry, and I shut off the video.

“I can’t… even… I don’t even know what to say.” David wriggled away from me, his face flushed. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you were into guys?”

“I don’t know what I’m into.” I slid the phone back into my pocket. “I’ve gotten off thinking about men and women since I was a teenager, but I only ever tried fucking around with girls.”

“And no one knows?”

“Well, you do. And Nunzio’s nosy ass.” I got to my feet and grabbed his arm, hauling him up from the floor. “I knew Michael was gay since I was a kid, so the concept of a dude wanting another dude was always normal to me. When I was, like, thirteen, I started reading gay stories on this website called Nifty.org, and then I started watching porn. It’s not a big deal. I was just curious.”

“And you’ve never….”

“Nope.”

David nodded slowly. He started to speak again, but the front door opened, signaling the return of Nunzio and our future landlord. I smoothed down my shirt and dusted off my pants, but David couldn’t do anything about the rosy blush on his skin or the way his pupils were dilated like he’d just done a couple of bumps instead of watching some twink get wrecked. He kept looking at me and then away, fidgeting and nervous.

I could tell he wanted to press me for more details, but it would have to wait for another day.

David

THIS WAS
the third time I’d moved in three years of living in New York City, and I was still completely helpless when it came to packing. Raymond and I had finalized the lease on the apartment in Sunset Park almost a month ago, and were set to move next weekend, but I was still lost in a sea of semipacked clothing, full cabinets, and unlabeled boxes. The mess and the lack of organization triggered my anxiety, and I’d taken to avoiding my own apartment for days at a time.

“Just send Caleb back his half of the stuff, and you’ll be fine.”

“I can’t,” I despaired. “He bought an apartment on Spruce Street and got all new furniture.”

“He replaced
everything
?” Karen’s tinny voice floated up from where I’d angled my phone on the kitchen counter.

We were supposed to be on FaceTime, but Karen kept getting a good view of the back of my head as I surveyed the chaotic apartment. Everything was everywhere, and it made me want to die.

“Yes. According to Charles, he and Caleb did a tour of various furniture boutiques and Caleb just… picked out a couple of showrooms. His new place is in some superfancy building with crazy views of the city.”

“Sheesh. I forget he has a trust fund padding his salary. Did he used to spend money like that when you were around?”

“No, but I think he knew it made me uncomfortable.”

I’d attempted to hide my discomfort with Caleb’s wealth, but he’d picked up on it right away and had stopped insisting on paying for everything. I’d tried to keep up, but plastic money wasn’t as good as green paper when you didn’t have the confidence that the massive debt would be paid off. These days I even experienced buyer’s remorse when charging sushi and shoes—my only real luxuries.

“Karen, come help me,” I pleaded. “I’ll never finish by the weekend.”

“I can’t. I took Ms. Price up on the offer to teach that online summer school course, and now I have a million things to grade.”

“I told you it was going to be horrible.” It wasn’t exactly true. Michael had warned me it would be horrible, and I’d repeated his advice. “Ugh. Maybe I should pay movers.”

“That’s stupid. Just ask Raymond to come help you.”

That just showed how little people understood my soon-to-be roommate. Asking him to drive into Manhattan would take unmentionable amounts of begging, bribing, and guilt-tripping that I did not have the time or patience to conduct. Suggesting that he take the train would only result in incredulous scoffs and sass for days. His sass was cute, but not when I was floundering in overpriced Cole Haan shoes without the matching boxes, and damning evidence from way too many trips to Bloomingdale’s. When had I had the time to buy all of this crap?

“That,” I said with precision, “is a terrible idea.”

“Why? I bet he’d do it if he knew how stressed out you were.”

“That’s because you don’t know Raymond.”

“I know everything from his favorite food to his blood type, David. You talk about him more than I talk about my kid.”

I was tempted to nail her with a dirty look, but she’d notice the flush that had undoubtedly risen to my face. Keeping my back to the screen, I picked up a box of Ziploc bags and wondered if I could fit my size nines inside. It would be better than chucking them all in a large cardboard box. “Since when did I tell you his blood type?”

“I don’t remember how it came up. I think it was during the blood drive. You said he was a universal donor.”

This time I did glare back at her grinning face. “You made it sound like I was just rambling on about him!”

“Ohh, I’m sorry.” She adopted a look of fake innocence. “You didn’t start rambling on about him until
after
that came up!”

I flipped her off, and she cracked up, clapping her hands and getting a real riot out of making fun of my crush on Raymond. The more I tried to convince people that I wasn’t into him, the less they believed me. The only person who didn’t think it was hilarious was Michael, and that was because he’d rather jump off the Brooklyn Bridge than find out I was attracted to his little brother. Overprotective bastard.

“This has been a real hoot,” I said, “but I’m going to go have a panic attack in private.”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s cute, that’s all.” Karen was still chuckling but managed to look semiapologetic. “Anyway, if you’re still getting nothing done by the end of the week, we can get Oli or Charles to come. Okay?”

“’Kay.”

I waved at her and ended the call. It was a nice offer, but waiting until Friday to get shit done, when I’d scheduled the moving van for Saturday, might result in an actual panic attack. In times like these, I despaired not having reliable friends or a boyfriend. I’d met plenty of people over the past three years, but I didn’t have the kind of bond with any of them that would lead to them dropping everything in order to lend a hand. It would only result in a lot of “I wish you’d told me earlier” and “I would but I’m meeting so-and-so,” because that seemed to be how friendship worked for on-the-go twentysomethings in New York. Or at least the ones I’d managed to befriend.

Swallowing my sense of bitter abandonment, I grabbed my phone. Bribing Raymond was a lot better than being shot down by my supposed besties.

David: What are you doing?

Raymond responded almost instantly. It was a delightful new habit.

Raymond: about to play handball. what’s up?

I sucked my lip into my mouth, looked around and then back at the phone.

David: You’ll be at the park for a while?

Raymond: yes. wtf do you want, you stalker

Ha. I’d show him a stalker.

David: Nothing. Just bored.

He didn’t answer, but I hadn’t expected him to. As long as he stayed at the park, it was fine.

I swapped my short shorts for a pair of skinny jeans, grabbed my wallet and keys, and headed to Eighth Avenue to jump on the train to Queens.

DODGING THE
throngs of shoppers on Jamaica Avenue, I made my way to King’s Park. The walk was short, but on such a hot day I regretted changing out of my shorts. If people didn’t like seeing dude-thighs, that was their problem, but too late now. I’d have to suffer in the hopes Raymond caved to my wheedling and drove me back to Chelsea, where he could nag me until I got my butt in gear and packed.

I had a vague idea of where the handball courts were located because of the park’s proximity to the Rodriguez’s house, but it still took ten minutes of wandering through the surprisingly expansive green space before I walked in the right direction. Bypassing a gazebo and a small playground, I followed the hollow
thunks
of a ball hitting concrete and located the court at the far end of the park.

In the middle of the afternoon on a summer day, the court was crowded with sweaty bodies, but I easily picked out Raymond from the cluster of people within the gated area. He wasn’t the only good-looking guy playing, but he immediately drew my attention. He was the tallest of the players, his body lean and defined with his sandy skin glowing in the hot afternoon sun. Corded muscles rippled up his arms and down his abs as he brushed back strands of dark hair escaping a rapidly loosening knot.

Determined to not drool over Raymond any more than I did on a regular day, I paused several feet away from the entrance and looked around. The perimeter of the court was lined with people just standing and watching. A few might have been waiting their turn to play, but a group of teenage girls were blatantly ogling the guys. Considering the top-notch eye candy prancing around, I didn’t blame them. With his damned tattoos and gorgeous hair, Raymond had to be a prime target for scoping.