Bad Boyfriend (14 page)

Eli leaned in and Quinn hunched down to meet him, but all he got was a light brush of lips. Quinn caught Eli’s face in his hands and held him, drawing back enough to see Eli’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t understand the point of revving the engine if you’re not going to drive somewhere.”

“You are the opposite of romantic. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

“I am full of romance. I like sunsets and the ocean and beaches and flowers and love songs and Shakespeare in the park and all that kind of shit.” Eli’s cheeks flushed. It was adorable on him. “I don’t get what any of that has to do with sex.”

“I’m not talking about sex, Eli. I’m talking about a kiss.”

“Fine. I’ll kiss the romantic fuck out of you.”

Quinn stepped his legs out and bent his knees to get to Eli’s eye level and waited.

Peeling Quinn’s hand away, Eli licked his lips and wrapped his arms around Quinn’s neck. The kiss was a brush of lips and tongue, slow and deliberate. Quinn kept his mouth soft, waiting. Eli took a more determined grip on Quinn’s neck and kissed his lower lip, his upper lip, gentle sucking pressure. When Eli’s tongue darted out to flick at the corner of Quinn’s mouth, he had to reach out for Eli’s hips to keep from grabbing for his head and taking control.

Eli’s kiss grew more determined, pressure increasing, a hot wet tickle from his tongue teasing sensitive corners. Quinn’s hands slid around to Eli’s back, holding him, fighting the urge to lift him close and tight. Quinn forgot what he was trying to prove. Calculated or not, Eli could kiss. The fingers on Quinn’s neck tightened, and he lost himself in Eli’s taste, his breath, the smell of his skin and the slide of lips. When Quinn opened his mouth, Eli didn’t take any more ground than the inside of Quinn’s lips, a tingle that echoed down to his ribs, making Quinn’s breath catch.

Eli eased back enough to breathe words onto Quinn’s mouth. “Well? Romantic enough?”

“My heart’s aflutter.”

Eli sank away. “All the fluttering is in my balls.”

Quinn loosened the knot of Eli’s tie and slid it free. “Here. Save this and…” he palmed Eli’s crotch lightly, “…that for later. I’ll be right back.”

Upstairs, Quinn exchanged his jeans for slacks, keeping the green sweater with the wooden buttons at the V-neck. As he came back down, he caught Eli with his thumb on his lips and confusion in his eyes.

Eli dropped his hand. “You didn’t have to change for me. I’ve never cared what other people—”

“I care.” Quinn tucked his arm around Eli’s waist and tasted his mouth again. “God, much as I want to fuck you, I could stand here and kiss you for hours.” He coaxed Eli’s tongue to follow his, let the kiss get hotter until Eli elbowed him.

“Bastard.” Eli pressed his hand into his crotch. “Now I’m going to have to think about your ex fucking his wife so I don’t flash a tent pole half the night. Or…” he pressed himself against Quinn, “…you could help me out. It would only take a minute or two.”

“Later. I’m not showing up smelling like sex.”

“If they turn blue and fall off, I’m taking yours,” Eli muttered as he slid into the car.

Quinn followed directions and parked down the block so Dennis wouldn’t see the car. Alyssa met them at the door. “Oh my God, Eli, what happened? Did you let Quinn dress you?”

“No. I had a job interview and there was no time to change,” Eli explained.

Quinn looked at him with raised eyebrows, but Eli wouldn’t give him an answer.

Alyssa led them into the kitchen. “I thought you liked your job at that paper, what was it?”

“The
Charming Rag
. I love it. But you know how the economy is. I’m freelancing now, and I need some regular income.”

Another lie to explain the clothes or was Eli really having problems? Why didn’t Eli tell him about it?
Because as soon as you see him you’ve got your tongue or your cock in him. Or you’re whining about your own problems.
He tried to hold Eli back with a hand on his shoulder, but Eli wriggled free and escaped to the family in the kitchen. Claire stepped away from the stove to kiss them both on the cheek.

“Chrissy’s feeding the baby now. Everyone is out back since fixing a board on the porch is the excuse to get Dennis here. I don’t understand why he’s being so difficult.”

Because thirty-five feels a lot older than thirty-four
, Quinn wanted to explain.
And it feels embarrassingly ancient when you can’t keep your hands off a not quite twenty-three-year-old.

Eli went through a brief recap of an explanation for his suit with Claire, the variation being her response of “I’m so sorry. It’s a terrible time for young people especially.”

Quinn had been straining his ears for the familiar sound since they arrived, trying to tamp down the spread of cold fear in his stomach. No jangle of tags. No click of claws. Hubert was probably out on the porch. He was just too stiff to come in to greet Quinn, smart enough to know Quinn would be there in a minute. Hubert would whine and sit at Quinn’s feet and give him the where-have-you-been look with his big brown eyes.

He made his way out onto the screen porch, but Hubert wasn’t there. The dread that had been waiting launched itself into his throat, burning into the back of his skull as he searched the living room, checked under the dining room table.

“Quinn.” He heard Peter call him back, and then Chrissy put her hand on his arm.

“I’m so sorry. We had to put him to sleep. I thought Peter would have told you.”

Quinn was out of the house before she finished talking, down the block, leaning against his car and trying to get air in past the icy fingers squeezing his lungs shut.

He knew who was behind him without turning. Eli wrapped himself around Quinn’s back. The heat from the palms flattened on his chest loosened Quinn’s breath.

“I’ve only seen him twice since Peter moved out.”

There was a minute of silence and then Eli said, “After ten years, you should have been there.”

Quinn turned in the circle of Eli’s arms, leaning against the car. “Yes.” Eli got it. It wasn’t that Quinn wanted to, but that he needed to. To lay hands on Hubert and tell him it was okay. To say goodbye. Somehow, Peter’s cheating, his betrayal, his leaving, nothing felt as deliberately cruel as denying Quinn that goodbye. And what was worse, Quinn knew it was nothing more than Peter’s selfishness and his need to hide the past from Chrissy that had made Peter’s decision for him.

Eli moved them into a comforting sway, the warmth of his understanding thawing the anger that was all that held Quinn together. He tried to step away, but Eli held on.

“I can’t. Not now.”

“So we’ll leave.”

“I can’t do that either.”

“Don’t let him fuck with this too.” Eli pulled Quinn in tighter.

Quinn took a deep breath and put his head on Eli’s shoulder, let the gentle rocking drag out a few tears, relax a little of the pain radiating through a tightly clenched jaw.

“Thanks,” Quinn said as he lifted his head.

Eli shrugged without letting go. “That’s what boyfriends are for.” He pressed up and kissed a tear from Quinn’s cheek.

Quinn shared the taste with a quick brush of lips. For a guy who couldn’t see the point of a simple kiss, Eli was acting like… “Mr. Romance,” Quinn said aloud.

“Don’t let it get out. I have my reputation to think of.”

They’d straightened up, but Eli still had his arms locked around Quinn’s hips when Dennis appeared over Eli’s shoulder.

“What the hell, Quinn. I don’t get what’s going on with you. You’ve never acted like this—”

Eli spun around, stepping in front of Quinn like when Peter had confronted them in the bathroom. The idea of Eli taking on someone Dennis’s size in Quinn’s defense should have been funny, but the thump in Quinn’s chest had nothing to do with amusement.

Eli stepped closer to Dennis. “Quinn is dealing with your brother’s shit. Again. He came here expecting to see their dog. The one Peter forgot to tell him was dead. And then Peter sent you out to stir up more trouble.”

Dennis looked to Quinn for confirmation. Quinn’s nod might have satisfied Dennis, but the exchange only made Eli angrier.

“I’m standing right the fuck in front of you, Mr. Laurent. You could at least look at me.”

“Look, kid. Whatever the fuck you’re doing with Quinn here doesn’t give you the right—”

“No, you look. And open your fucking eyes when you do. Your brother is an asshole of epic proportions, and the way you all let him get away with it is only making things worse. If someone doesn’t step up, Quinn isn’t going to be the only one dealing with the fallout.”

Eli stomped off toward the house, but then turned back. “And that thing Quinn and I are doing is called sex. Quinn is gay. Gay, gay, gay. Your friend fucks guys. You may have been enjoying some kind of straight-guy denial so far, but get that through your head. Quinn likes cock.” With that, he strode up toward the house.

Dennis gave Quinn a helpless, confused look. “He never told you about Hubert.”

“No.” Quinn swallowed. “Sorry we missed the surprise.”

“I wish I did. When will they stop acting like birthdays are some kind of sacred institution?”

“Your mom or your wife?”

“Both.” Dennis stared at him, and Quinn pushed away from his car. “So. You’re gay, huh?”

“You got that newsflash?”

“Kind of hard to miss. What the fuck is with you and that kid?”

“I know he looks young—”

“I’m not worried about jailbait. I’m worried about you.”

Quinn shrugged. Maybe once things with the family settled down he could figure out how he felt about Eli—besides the sex Eli had been so determined to point out. That was part of it, but not all, he knew that already. “He keeps things interesting.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Chrissy was on a mission to make up for Peter’s behavior. Operating under the illusion that any cuddling would compensate for the loss of Hubert, she barely waited until Quinn was seated on the couch before dumping a squirming Gabe onto his lap. The baby scowled for a few minutes and then settled. Quinn figured he’d probably just shit. He lifted the bundle to his shoulder and tried a hesitant pat. No way was he pining for fatherhood. After a brief wet hiss, the baby fell silent.

“You’re magic,” Chrissy said. “I’ve been trying to settle him down for an hour.”

Quinn knew a setup when he saw one. “Do you want me to put him down?”

“Would you? Peter, show him. Thank you. I thought I’d be walking him all night.”

Ah. A double setup. Aside from random squawks and gurgles, Gabe had been fairly unnoticeable during dinner. He’d only howled when the birthday serenade had been in full voice, and Quinn could scarcely blame him. His male cousin was particularly shrill. On the way to the stairs, Quinn and Peter stepped over a recreation of the Battle of Anzio formed out of random fast-food toys from Paula’s purse.

Peter flipped on the lights in the room at the top of the stairs to reveal a nursery in soft shades of yellow. Peter hated yellow. Quinn had wanted a warm soft gold in the bathroom, but Peter had sworn it would make him puke to match the bile color. Now that Quinn thought of it, the house was full of the shade—in the dining room, the kitchen, the gold-colored carpet on the stairs. Maybe that’s why Peter’s face in the wedding pictures looked so sour, he was glaring at the carpet.

“Put him on his back,” Peter instructed.

Quinn lowered the sleeping infant into the crib.

“I never thought you’d want to be there. Thought I could at least spare you that. I’m sorry, Quinn.” Peter’s words were soft, so sincere, Quinn could almost believe him if he didn’t know Peter’s wife had put him up to it.

“You could have asked.”

“Okay. It’s not like it’ll come up again, so I can’t very well fix it.” Before Quinn could back away from the crib, Peter put a hand over his on the rail. “I miss you sometimes. I didn’t plan for it to go like this.”

Damn him. Quinn slipped his hand free.

Peter’s fingers tightened on the crib rail. “Don’t think it’s always easy for me. You’re the only guy I ever—”

Quinn looked away.

“You know,” Peter said, voice thick, “forget it. Hate me. I can’t fix it.”

Quinn wasn’t falling for this. He’d seen too much of Peter’s selfishness to believe he ever thought of anyone but himself. Then Peter had to do that blink thing, like his eyes were filling as he stared down into the crib, reaching out to pat his son’s stomach, drawing a sticky sigh from the baby’s lips. “Did you ever think about this? About us doing this?”

It wasn’t only sex and familiarity that had kept their lives intertwined all those years. They’d shared a lot at first. But Peter had never mentioned anything about an urge to be a father.

“No matter how many loads I dumped in your ass, I didn’t think it would come up.” Maybe Quinn was more bitter than he thought, or maybe he didn’t like the way the elephants getting into Noah’s Ark on the lampshade were leering at him.

Peter shook his head, a disgusted snort barely escaping his throat.