Crazy From the Heat (15 page)

Grey
caught one of his hands and twined their fingers together.

“I’m
having dinner with you. And maybe a couple of movies, if that’s not too boring.
I’d like a night in. If that’s okay with you?”

A
slight blush raced over Paul’s skin from his chest to his hairline. He smiled
and squeezed Grey’s hand in his.

“Sounds
pretty damned good to me.”

“Then
it’s a date,” Grey said, trying to hide the sigh of relief that caused his
voice to break on the word date. Paul’s laugh was contagious. “Shut up, you’re
the one blushing like a new bride.”

“Well,
so are you,” he said, pulling the robe together as if to contain his modesty.
“Big bad history teacher, blushing like a virgin on her honeymoon.”

“I
am no virgin. I’m not even close to innocent.” Grey was the one to pull away,
under the guise of getting plates from the cupboard. He wouldn’t meet Paul’s
gaze, the thought of what they’d done in the stadium the night before weighed
heavily on his conscience.

“I
noticed. That thing yesterday in your classroom. Came in my mouth while talking
to the secretary, and didn’t even make a sound. That, my friend, takes some
serious practice. What was it? Sex while your mom was in the next room?” Paul
took the bottle of beer Grey offered him, his eyes twinkled with laughter.
Laughter that died when Grey didn’t join him. “Okay, no. I crossed a line
there. I’m sorry.”

Grey
dished a square of lasagna onto a plate, cheese dripping down the side. He
tried to shrug off the tension in his neck and act like the day before hadn’t
happened. But he couldn’t.

“It
was that, or that old busy body would know something was going on. I swear she
looks at me as if I’m going to mutilate cats or something.”

Paul
accepted the plate but the easy smile didn’t return, he cocked his head and
stared at Grey almost as if he too were waiting for something that Grey didn’t
know he was capable of.

“So
tell me how you ended up down here in Mo-beal?” he said dragging the name out
exactly the way the natives said it. “Running from a deep dark secret past, no
doubt.”

“Nothing
so dire,” Grey responded trying not to choke on the first bite of hot pasta.
“My foster father died a couple years ago, I thought I needed a change of
scenery, the school down here was happy to accept me into their doctorate
program about half way through.”

“Yeah,
about that. Twenty-seven is a bit young to be sitting around with a PhD. How’d
that happen?” Paul forked in another mouthful of pasta.

“I
had a couple of years of college classes before I graduated high school. Told
you I was a pretty much a nerd. I took as many dual-enrollment as I could get
into. My last foster father encouraged me to get my shit together…Okay that’s
not true. He pretty much demanded I get my shit together or get out, because he
wasn’t wasting his time on a punk who wasn’t going to meet him half way.”

“See
now, I can sort of see a bit of punk in you. The button down teacher with his
testicles pierced. It fits you. Bet you did more than decorate some pretty
windows back in the day?”

Grey
felt the blush creep up his neck. Maybe it was anger, he couldn’t tell. His
skin drew up tight. He went to check the air conditioner thermostat again,
wondering why it was so hot in there all of a sudden.

“Come
on, Grey. It’s nothing man. Tagging is just something I can see you doing. You
admitted that you had some problems, I naturally jumped to that conclusion.”
Paul stood behind him, hands on his shoulders. “I wasn’t a peach of a kid. I
was a kid. Wilder than I should have been but still a kid. It’s nothing. I
liked messing with my dad’s recruits, loved sex with frustrated grunts. Made me
feel powerful, thumbing my nose at him like that.”

“I
wasn’t...It wasn’t like that, not harmless fun. Not for me. I was busted a few
times for vandalism. Drugs. I was on my way to who-the-hell-knows what. I’m not
proud of the things I did.” He turned to face Paul, but couldn’t at the last
minute. “I was living on the streets when I was sixteen, by my choice. The
courts gave me one last chance. Get my shit together, get clean, or end up a
permanent resident of one of the state’s fine institutions before I was
eighteen.”

“Ah,
okay,” Paul followed him back to the kitchen. “I see it in a few kids at the
school. That nothing-left-to-live-for thing, so what-the-fuck-ever attitude.
Still, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. This foster dad must have been one hell
of a man to get through to you.”

“He
was. He was one of my dad’s friends, they went into the service together. He
didn’t know what happened to me after my mom died. He saved me. Listen I don’t
want to talk about this anymore. I’m not comfortable taking this walk down
memory lane right now.”

That
life was a million years in his past, he wanted it to stay there, but for some
reason this man made him want to spill all of his secrets. He picked at the
meal, pushing a clump of cheese around before scooping it up. He wouldn’t look
at Paul.

“Sure,
so…” Paul paused long enough to get Grey’s attention. “What movies do you have?
Anything new? Because I can’t remember the last time I had time to sit and
watch a movie. I haven’t even had time to sit and watch porn. This double duty
business sucks.”

“If
you want to watch porn, just stand in the mirror. Same fucking thing.” Grateful
for the change of subject Grey scooped more food onto his plate and, taking his
food over to the sofa, he rummaged through the rentals he’d picked up from the
library a few days ago.  Paul’s laugh followed him, the sound seemed to wrap
around him, and squeeze.

“If
you think that now, you should have seen me when I was young. I was a freakin'
porn buffet. Guys lined up to eat me.”

Grey
couldn’t stop the laugh that rumbled in his chest, filling him with something
he hadn’t had in a long time. Maybe ever. He looked up in time to see his robe
slip from the slimmer man’s shoulder, the split in the fabric showing him just
how much of nothing Paul wore underneath the garment. Oh, yeah. He could
certainly see exactly why men lined up for a taste of the incredibly beautiful
man.

“Move
me to the head of the line.”

“Already
done, and I sent the rest packing. Just you and me this time. And no damned
intercom to interrupt.” Paul settled onto the sofa putting his beer bottle on
the floor. He looked over the choices and shrugged. “I haven’t seen any of
them. Whatever you want, I’m good with.”

“And
here I thought you were making an offer to repeat what you were doing when we
were interrupted yesterday, and all you’re interested in is my movie
expertise.” Grey settled for the summer blockbuster he’d missed back when it
first came out. Lots of hot men in super hero costumes. Worked for him. The hot
blond—the one beside him, not the one on the screen—did too. Worked for him,
that was.

“If
you’re a good little boy, I might be enticed into a repeat performance.” Paul
held out his empty plate with a pout on his lips.

“I
see how it’s going to be.” He took the plate and crossed to the kitchen while
Paul let the robe fall open to expose more of his golden skin. “Oh yeah. I see
just how it’s going to be.”

“Keep
me fed, baby, and I’ll be everything you ever wanted,” Paul managed to keep up
the pouty vixen pose for about two seconds before he dissolved into peals of
laughter. “Sorry, but I loved your face there for a moment.”

“Hmmm…”
Grey handed him back his plate and settled in beside him. “Can you blame me?
All of the blood in my body settled in one place. I don’t think I’ve ever had
quiet that offer before.” He slung his arm over Paul’s shoulders and leaned in
to whisper. “And I plan to hold you to it. Because you might be everything I’ve
ever wanted.”

Chapter
Thirteen

Night
fell while they watched movies on Grey’s sofa. Paul couldn’t keep his mind on
the plot most of the time, but he loved watching Grey watch whatever it was
they were watching. He also loved the way Grey constantly touched him in some
way throughout the evening. While Paul leaned against him, Grey would stroke
his hair, his face, or his shoulder. Nothing sexual, just familiar and
comfortable. If Grey leaned against him, his hands would slip under Paul's robe
to caress his stomach or his thigh. And over the course of two movies Paul’s
skin was so tender from just those light touches he knew he was going to
explode at the next lightest touch.

After
the second movie he stood up and stretched.

“I
think I need a break or I’m going to fall asleep.” That wasn’t exactly a lie.
Horny and sleepy. Strange how the two could co-exist. “Want to go out on the
balcony for a while? Get some air?”

“Sure.
Just let me load the dishwasher and I’ll be right out.” Grey gathered up the
dishes from their return trip to the lasagna pan and carried everything in to
the kitchen. He took a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and poured two
glasses. “Take these out and I’ll follow in just a moment.”

Wine
in hand, Paul stepped out onto the narrow iron balcony. The concrete slab was
still warm under his feet from the day’s heat. Night was just beginning to
settle over the city. A pale pink leftover sunset floated over the buildings
and treetops and, as he watched, disappeared completely. The air was heavy
still, humidity holding on, even in September.

“I’ll
never get used to the humidity. Not if I live here a hundred years,” he said
loud enough for Grey to hear him through the open door.

“I
don’t know,” Grey startled him by sweeping his hair off his shoulders and
placing a kiss on his neck, “I kind of like it. Labor Day weekend and it’s
still hot enough to be called summer. Back home…” He stopped what he was saying
and rested his head on Paul’s shoulder.

“Back
in Chicago it would be getting cold soon. I’ve never been anywhere as cold as
there. Not even Germany. Busting my ass in the cold was not something I
remember fondly.” Paul finished instead.

“Yeah,
something like that.” He remembered what Grey had said that morning about
living on the streets when he was sixteen and winced. At least when his dad had
not-very-politely asked him to leave, he’d had somewhere to go. He was never
homeless. At least he had that, even if he didn’t have a family.

“Baltimore
isn’t so bad this time of year," Grey continued. "The leaves will be
starting to turn. The air will be sweeter. Softer coming off the bay. Still a
little humid, but nothing like this. I didn’t really have to use the heat at
all last winter. That’s a decent trade if you think about it.”

“No
snow,” Paul said, thinking to argue. “Not that that’s a bad thing, now that I
think about it. No snow is actually nice.”

“There’s
always Christmas break and a trip to somewhere wintery, if that’s something
that would appeal to you.” Grey slipped an arm around Paul’s waist, his body
heating Paul's through the thin layer of the borrowed robe.

Paul
turned to face him and wrapped his free arm around Grey’s waist, holding him in
an identical embrace.

“Is
that an invitation or a fantasy?”

“I
guess that all depends on if you are here at Christmas.” There was no
deflection of the truth. And they both knew it.

“If
I have a say in where I go from here, it won’t be far. I could end up back in
New Orleans, which isn’t far. Or…” It was his turn to let his thought trail
off. Because he had no idea what his next option would be. Probably the
highway. He was out of chances. Didn’t matter what his record was, getting
involved with Grey was a major mistake. The drug dealer from New Orleans was
worse. His former partner in Chicago…Well, he wouldn’t think about that. Not
now.

“Or?”
Grey wouldn’t give him the pass that Paul had allowed earlier.

“I’m
getting too old for this job. I’m starting to look my age. This face is going
to get me killed.” Not that it hadn’t come close a million times before now.
“If I have to take high school algebra one more damned time I’m going to go
postal.”

“I
hated math bad enough the first time around. There isn’t enough money in the
world to make me go through that again.” Grey exaggerated a shudder, the sad
from a moment ago lifted from his eyes.

“I
like the history classes though, Especially this hot ass teacher. Fuck, Grey. You
make the subject sexy as hell. Where were you when I was in college?”

“In
high school. Tagging freight cars and anything else I could get my collection
of spray paint close enough to. Skate boarding through the mean streets. And
eating soft shell crab from this great place right on the bay. That’s what I
was doing while you were in college.”

“You
didn’t mention any hot guys. I bet you had all the gay boys and even some of
the straight boys drooling.” And that’s when the smile in Grey’s eyes faded
completely away. He ducked his head and stepped away. Taking his wine glass he
settled on the only chair on the narrow balcony. Paul drained the last of his
wine and set the glass on the small table that had held Grey’s paints earlier
that day. Letting the robe fall open, he followed Grey to the chair and
straddled his legs, the robe shielding his body from any prying eyes, except
Grey’s.