Promise Rock 03 - Living Promises (MM) (22 page)

Jeff: Bending, Not Breaking

G
OD
, he was a pussy. All it took was one look at that big-dick Camaro, and Jeff's knees went a little weak. If he were any more of a woman, his panties would have flooded, but as it was, he had to settle for a grandmal butterfly seizure in his stomach. And an erection.

It was the first time all day he stopped pretending that seeing Collin on his doorstep last night had been nothing more than an inconvenience.
His stomach had gone fluttery, his knees had gone weak, just like now, and when Collin had his drunken confession to
almost
getting a blow job in a club, he'd felt an absurd and unholy anger. And wasn't that ridiculous—who
almost
got a BJ in a club? It was almost an entrance requirement, like a stamp if you didn't want to pay the door fee twice.
But then….
Then Collin had been all bare and vulnerable, like one of those poor hairless cats. Poor baby. Jeff had always thought if he had one of those, he'd spend all his time knitting sweaters for the poor thing, and Collin being truthful was no exception.
I didn't want twenty-two and farm-fresh and blue eyes, Jeffy. I wanted you.
Considering the world of snark in which he and Collin seemed to swim, that was damned near poetry.
A boy could get a little weak in the knees for poetry, couldn't he? And Collin's age was starting to disappear. Jeff could remember that angry, hurt teenager and remember that he'd had an inkling it would come to this, that Collin would grow up into a very worthy man.
Any guy who would walk away from a club blow job to come see a guy who'd been as much a drama princess as Jeff had been was more worthy than Jeff knew what to do with. God… was it possible he could remember what to do with that?
The thought made his hands sweat on his leather steering wheel cover as he pulled up to the shop. Since the steering was still stiff, well, that made it particularly hard to drive, Jeff thought irritably. Maybe he should save all this gushy admiration to see if the guy could actually
fix his frickin' car!
There were cars in every available parking space, but no customers, and Jeff thought that maybe Collin was going to be there all Sunday. As honest as he'd just been with himself, he absolutely
refused
to believe that it was a twinge of disappointment he felt in his stomach. Dead butterflies, maybe, but
not
disappointment.
Still, Collin came striding out of the little office in the front, and Jeff opened the door and got out and then stood there, the door in front of him like a shield, and wondered what he looked like as he greeted the pain in the ass that had haunted him through some of his worst moments in recent history.
Collin's hair was a little greasy and pulled back in a half-queue, and he looked tired, like maybe he'd been up all night drinking on a stomach that couldn't do that anymore, but he narrowed those tired eyes and smiled with purpose, and Jeff couldn't help the embarrassing little sound that came out of his mouth. Jesus, the kid was just so
pretty
, right?
“Heya, Jeffy,” Collin said, his voice pitched low and familiar, and Jeff held onto that car door for dear life.
“Hi,” Jeff said, swallowing hard. “Uhm, thanks for taking Martin today. He sounded happy on the phone—I'm glad he enjoyed himself.”
Collin snorted and continued to work at his hands with the faded red cloth, which looked like it had recently been clean and was being used abominably. “Enjoyed himself? Jeff, we worked his
ass
off today, and he was
awesome.
Seriously, let me know if you're gonna keep this kid. I could use the slave labor any goddamned time.”
“Don't I get a say?” Martin was coming out of the office, too, and he must have been wearing coveralls for most of the day, because his jeans and hooded sweatshirt were a little rumpled but practically pristine.
“No,” Jeff said dryly. “That's why it's called slave labor. I understand you did good today, Martin—thank you.”
“Thank you?” Martin looked affronted. “He promised to pay me!”
Collin nodded and pulled two twenties out of the front pocket of his coveralls. “All yours, junior. Don't spend it all in one place.”
“Are you shitting me? Christmas is in a month and a week, and I spent all my money on my bus ticket!”
That brought them all up uncomfortably. Martin had run away from home—and his parents still wanted him back, on the caveat that talking about Kevin was not going to happen. Jeff had come to like the kid—like him a
lot—
but it wasn't fair, was it, to keep him there just so Jeff didn't have to face an empty condo and a handful of good memories?
“Well, by all means come back on Tuesday and Wednesday of next week,” Collin said smoothly into the uncomfortable silence. “And if you want, Jeff can bring you Monday—Promise House should have cleared this place by then, and you can help me fix the steering in Jeff's car.”
“Oh!” Jeff smiled genuinely and tabled the unhappy reality of losing Kevin all over again for just a minute. “You've got the part!”
Collin nodded. “I do—I figured, you bring the car in the morning, take mine for the day, and then come back, and maybe….” He blushed. That cocky little bastard actually
blushed.
But he finished the sentence. “Maybe, I take you and Martin out for dinner.”
“You can leave me home,” Martin said decisively, at about the same time Jeff's face fell to probably about his knees.
“That's game night, Martin, remember? You, me, Kimmy, Lucas—”
“Watching Lucas move on Kimmy and Kimmy shoot him down?” Martin interjected glumly, and Jeff nodded with sympathy. The last time hadn't been pretty, but the fifth or twelve-hundredth time Lucas had tried a compliment and Kimmy nuked him where he sat, she'd almost been in tears. He'd caught her hand and said, “It's all right, Kim, you're not beautiful. You're hideous, you have warts and green skin and a chickbeard. It's all good. Will you sit next to me and be my partner in Trivial Pursuit anyway?”
“Moron,” Kimmy had scowled, but she'd squeezed Lucas's hand when she said it, and Jeff and Martin had rolled their eyes at each other and Jeff had felt a little hope.
“In that case,” Martin said now, with the air of someone making a
horrible
sacrifice for the sake of his wingman, “you can have them pick me up on the way to your house, and you and Collin can go out to dinner. And then”—he perked up—“maybe I can have Kim bring Halo or something from Promise House, because I'm telling you, I've had about enough of video-golf!”
Jeff's electronics collection had wowed the socks off of Martin— but his actual selection of video
games
had un-wowed those socks right back on. Jeff was not a fan of games that made loud noises and showed shit exploding, and to Martin, that was the pinnacle of the craft.
“You didn't like Scrabble?” Jeff asked, just a little bit hurt.
“No, Jeff. I didn't like Scrabble,” Martin replied with so much honesty that Collin cracked up completely and even Jeff had to smile.
“Okay,” Jeff nodded, avoiding Collin's eyes. “I'll just call Kimmy and it's a….” His face flushed and then washed pale. Oh God. He wasn't sure he could say it.
Then Collin's honey-colored eyes caught his, and Collin said it for him. “It's a date, Jeff,” Collin said, again with that low, knee-melting voice that brooked no argument and left no quarter.
“Yeah,” Jeff muttered. “Uhm, a date.”
“I forgot something,” Martin said with no subtlety at all. He turned around abruptly before Jeff could even ask what, and Collin walked right up to Jeff's protective car door and put his hands on top of it, one of them on top Jeff's hand as he held it.
“Is that so horrible, Jeffy?” Collin asked, and his voice was still smoky, but now it was soft, and Jeff swallowed and conceded the truth.
“No,” he said. “It's not horrible.”
“Is it scary?” Collin raised his hand to just barely touch Jeff's cheek with his thumb. The hand smelled like hand-cleaner and engine grease, and Jeff didn't care. They were warm smells, honest smells, and Jeff was starting to like them.
“A little,” Jeff muttered. “I don't even know what to wear.”
“Wear whatever you want. We'll go wherever you want. I'd like to show you where I live—just to show you that it's a grown-up place and not a frat-boy pit, okay? And other than that? It's all your speed, Jeff. A Disney movie, a drag race, I just want to spend a little time with you. Is that so bad?”
His eyes were fabulous, really. That warm, light brown, and now they were smudged a little with weariness but still bright with hope. He still had hope. What business did Jeff have, crushing that hope? Couldn't he be strong enough to maybe hope a little too?
“No,” Jeff breathed. “That's… that sounds… good.”
Collin was drawing a little closer in the chill twilight, and Jeff's brain completely shorted out. Jeff Beachum, Sergeant of Snark, Wielder of Witticism, Dominator of the Double Entendre, completely ran out of things to say. He touched his lips with his tongue and watched as Collin gave a purely feline smile and then reached out with
his
tongue to trace Jeff's lips.
“Good,” he whispered. “Then it's all—”
“Good,” Jeff finished.
Collin's lips met his, so soft, so subtly, it wasn't hardly a kiss at all, and Jeff's mouth opened just a little, to take a breath and breathe Collin in, and then Collin's hand was cupping the back of his head and Jeff's whole world was suddenly Collin's breath, Collin's taste, Collin's tongue in his mouth. Jeff whimpered, and his knees wobbled, and he found himself clinging to Collin's coveralls and trying not to just sink into the front seat of his car.
Collin broke off the kiss and smiled, all smug like a lion, and finished it up with a peck on the lips. “Monday, right?”
Jeff nodded mutely.
“Good, right?”
“Mmm-hmm,” Jeff said, sinking down into the front of the Cooper before he took his door with him.
“Good. I'll send Martin out and let him know he can find whatever he forgot.”
“'Kay,” Jeff muttered, still dazed.
Collin's hand reached down and ruffled his hair, and Jeff didn't even object. He just sat there, fingers to his lips, until Martin trotted out, gave Collin a low five, and clambered into the passenger seat demanding food.
Jeff was still so lost in the wonder of the kiss that he buckled on the nutrition thing and took Martin to McDonald's—the kid swore he hadn't been there in weeks.

J
EFF
left work early on Monday, roaring the Camaro out of the parking lot like he actually owned it. He'd been dubious when he left the Cooper and Martin at Collin's garage—he'd eyed that big-dick Camaro like a Siberian tiger, actually, sure it was going to strike at any moment.

“Don't worry, Jeffy. It's a car. You step on the gas, it goes. You step on the brakes, it stops. You have to take a dump, and you'd better pull over and find a bathroom because there's no electronic anything and you're going to have to do it yourself.”

“Well, thank God for that.” Jeff pulled up one side of his mouth skeptically. “You, uhm… I mean, I'm not going to step on the gas and find myself in the next county with a horse plastered on the grill, am I?”

Collin shook his head and pressed the keys firmly into Jeff's hand. “No, Jeffy. If you're as moderate on the gas with my baby here as you are in every other avenue of your life, you will not find yourself in the next county with a horse on the grill. But it's a good reminder of why I should always take a cab when I drink, so thanks for the mental image, by the way!”

“My privilege,” Jeff replied sourly.
“The pleasure's mine,” Collin said, and something about the sideways slant of his eyes made Jeff blush, and he barely remembered to say bye to Martin as he toddled off to work.

M
ARGIE
was his patient today, and if her weight loss was subtle, her complete dismissal of the topic was not. “It doesn't count if the Lapband's making me do it,” she told him tersely, and he had a moment of irritation.

“The fuck it doesn't, sweetness,” he snapped, truly upset. “Anything you can do to make your stay in this world longer and more productive, well, that's a win, okay? You're looking good.”

He was holding the ultrasonic wand against her neck, so he saw her shoulders drop in resignation. “Thank you, Jeff. It's kind of you to say. Can I ask about you?”

Jeff was tempted to give her the party line, but he'd just gotten personal, and he guessed she was entitled. “I've got a date tonight,” he told her, feeling foolish, but she wasn't put off in the least.

“Oh my God!” She broke away from the ultrasonic to give him an impressed look, and he grimaced.
“Stop it.” He pushed on her shoulders to make her go back to where she needed to be.
“Who is he?”
“An auto mechanic,” Jeff replied promptly, because the rest of it was too complicated.
Margie gave an actual ecstatic shudder. “Oooh… I love a man who works with his hands. And is straight.”
Jeff wanted to hug her. “I love you more, sweetheart… now prepare yourself. This is gonna hurt….”

“ F
UCK
, owie, owie, owie, fuck fucking owie!”
“Jesus, Crick, you are
such
a baby! I swear, I've got a school
teacher in here who's tougher than you!”

“Is that the woman I passed on the way out? Because if I was in her class, she'd have me wetting my pants inside of ten minutes. That was one woman I would
not
want to fuck with.”