Wishing on a Blue Star (47 page)

“Must be a real pain in the ass, huh?”  Duncan said, in conciliation, as he released the stretch again.

Matthew offered a slight grunt as he was pulled forward again and breathed in and out, willing his mind to focus on anything other than how tight Duncan’s shorts seemed to get, or how flat his stomach was, every time he leaned back.

“So are you busy tonight?”

“Huh?”  One of Matthew’s hands came free when his head jerked up at the question.

“To work on the book,” Duncan said with a smile, and reached out to take back Matthew’s hand.  “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

“No,” Matthew grunted, hoping the stretching would be over soon.  “Haven’t changed my mind.”

“Good,” Duncan said as he released both of Matthew’s hands, brought his own knees up to his chest and let his forearms rest on top of them.  “My place okay?”

“Sure,” Matthew said, proud that he answered the question without any awkwardness this time.  “I’ll just follow you after class then?”

“Sounds good.”

And with those two words, Matthew’s mind began working overtime wondering what kind of furniture Duncan would have, what kind of pictures would be on the walls and whether Duncan was a total slob or a neat freak
—
or something in between, like Matthew.

Almost an hour later, Matthew found himself beginning to panic; the idea of going to Duncan’s place had been exciting at first, but now that he would be there within the next thirty minutes, he realized he’d spent the entire workout thinking of Duncan’s furniture and whether he would like it or not.  He simply hadn’t readied himself for spending a couple of hours alone, with Duncan, in Duncan’s house, without three rows of people between them.  He’d been a lapsed Catholic for most of his life, but he crossed himself quickly as he headed for the locker room.

Matthew had planned on parking on the street, but then he noticed Duncan standing at the end of his driveway, waving him behind the army green SUV.  And for the moment it took him to turn off the engine and cross himself yet again, Matthew smiled at the thought that this is what it would feel like to come home to Duncan every night.  Shaking his head, he exited his vehicle and hoped that he didn’t look like a giddy schoolgirl.

Matthew knocked on the bright red door and waited for a few moments, wondering if the interior of the house was immaculate as the exterior.  When the door opened, Matthew reminded himself to breathe.  Duncan welcomed him into the spacious and sparsely decorated three-storey home.  He admired the minimalism of the black leather sectional and the two large pieces of black-and-white modern art positioned carefully on the white walls.  The only color in the room came from the jacket spines of the books, precisely arranged on the built-in shelves flanking the floor-to-ceiling fireplace.  Duncan led them almost immediately to the dining room table where an open laptop and several piles of paper awaited them.  Matthew took the seat opposite the laptop.

“So, this is what I have so far.”  Duncan said as he let his hand rest on Matthew’s shoulder and laid a thick pile of printed pages in front of him.  Duncan took the seat beside him.  “You’re really starting to show some good muscle growth, especially in your shoulders.”

“Oh, thanks,” Matthew said with a slight smile, straightening up and pulling his shoulders back. 
Like Pavlov’s dog
, the little voice in his head teased. 
One touch from a hot guy and you’re already wondering how well your stuff will go with his.
  Matthew ignored the voice and started flipping through the pages.  “So, what is it you need my help with, exactly?”

“Well, I know what it is I want the message to be, but I’m not sure if I’m being too hopeful in thinking that people will read all this.”

“Have you done any kind of research on what people found useful or useless about other books of this kind?”

“You see?”  Duncan leaned forward and put his hand back on Matthew’s shoulder.  “I knew asking a real writer would be the best idea I’d had.”

Matthew felt his cheeks flush and wondered if Duncan would feel that way if he knew that Matthew was really Campbell Connelly, or that Campbell Connelly wrote about men falling in love while they did naughty things to each other in almost impossible gymnast-like positions.  “Well, thanks, but
—
”

“You never did tell me what kind of fiction you write.”  Duncan didn’t wait for Matthew to answer.  “I went online to try and find some of your books, but…”  Duncan let the thought hang in the air and shrugged his shoulders as he leaned back in his chair.

“I use a pen name.”  Matthew was certain his tone of voice and the conviction with which he made the announcement would negate the need to explain that he did it for privacy reasons, reasons that didn’t involve being hounded by the press or his millions of adoring fans.  “So, have you done research into what people want or not?”

“I have.”  Duncan picked up a manila folder from the chair beside him and pushed it across the table.  “What’s your pen name?”

“Okay, so what we need to do, perhaps, is insure that you’ve included what people are looking for in an exercise program.”

“Are you famous?”  Duncan’s eyes twinkled and Matthew knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.  “Did you write those Harry Potter books?”  Duncan’s voice was low and his smile made Matthew laugh out loud.

“Yes, I’m a blond, Scottish woman worth a geschmillion dollars,” Matthew said as pointed over his shoulder.  “That’s why I drive that piece of shit.  It’s part of my disguise.”  Matthew felt himself relax a little as Duncan’s deep, booming laugh echoed in the sparsely-furnished dining room.

“I’m sorry; I won’t push you anymore.”

“Campbell Connelly.”  The words were out of his mouth before he’d given them proper thought. 
No problem,
the little voice said, sarcasm evident,
maybe you’ll be able to outrun him.

“
The
Campbell Connelly?  Author of
Slowly Again
?”  Duncan’s expression seemed to be one of genuine surprise, but Matthew still kept himself on guard.  He’d been lulled into this false sense of security before, so he knew better than to assume Duncan meant that as a compliment.  The book had created something of a controversy when it was first released ten years ago.  It had been called everything from “groundbreaking” to “pornography”.  Matthew had been very glad that he’d decided to go with a pen name. 

“That is one of my favorite books.”  Duncan leaned forward again, his cheeks flushed.  “And that last love scene?  Still my number one unfulfilled fantasy.”  Duncan waggled his eyebrows as he leaned back in his chair, and mouthed the word “Sexy”.

Matthew tried to compose himself. 
Jesus Christ, man, you’re a writer.  Think of something witty to say.
  “I guess I don’t have to worry about out-running you then, huh?”

“Only if you’re single.”

Matthew felt his jaw drop, his inner voice having been silenced once again.  He looked into Duncan’s blue eyes as he felt the cold sweat begin to form at his hairline.

“Sorry, I’ve embarrassed you.  Or you think I’m a complete idiot.”

“No, not at all.”  Matthew told himself to get back to the book, to say something, to do anything, but his mind was far too busy conjuring up images of helping Duncan fulfill his number one unfulfilled fantasy.  “I just don’t get to meet a lot of fans.”

“Sorry, I’ll behave.”

“I thought you wanted help with your book?”  Matthew felt, for the first time in his adult life, at a complete loss for words.  He’d always considered himself the aggressive type when it came to going after what he wanted, but now he was face-to-face with a man
—
and an incredibly gorgeous one at that
—
who was pursuing him shamelessly.  The only problem was that Matthew didn’t know whether he liked being the prey instead of the predator.

“Say we can go out sometime?”

“I don’t know,” Matthew said, his voice as uncertain as his mind was confused.  “I just got out of a bad relationship and…”

“Enough said,” Duncan said with a smile.  “Just my luck.  Meet an incredible, smart, funny, sexy guy and he’s not available.”

“Yes.”  Matthew wasn’t sure if it was his own voice or the look of surprise on Duncan’s face that made his jump slightly.  “I’ll go out with you sometime.”

“Well, whadda ya know?  Looks like my luck is changing.”

Not as much as mine,
Matthew thought and returned his attention to the book in front of him.

DAY THIRTY

Matthew took his usual spot on the floor, after having arrived early, which had become his habit over the past two weeks.  It was another Saturday, so Matthew was relieved that it would not be a terribly strenuous day at the studio.  It would be mainly stretching and some yoga moves with a warm up and a cool down bookending the afternoon session.  There had been so many things going on in Matthew’s life lately that he still found himself standing in one spot sometimes during the day trying to let it all catch up to him.  He would be sitting at his computer, flush with new ideas and new scenes to write, but his fingers would stop dead on the keyboard while his mind replayed the moments he’d been sharing with Duncan.

There had been several dinners, walks along the beach, a couple of movies and even some heated sessions during which the television was forgotten and provided nothing more than background noise for the frenzied groping and marathon kissing sessions on Matthew’s living room floor.  Most of their clothes would be discarded and there was definite interest on Matthew’s part, but Duncan had always slowed them down by pulling away.  And, if he were honest with himself, Matthew was always thankful; if it had been up to Matthew, he would have gone full speed ahead, as usual.

At first, Matthew had been confused.  He thought maybe Duncan was having second thoughts, but then would be so complimentary about the beautiful body that Matthew was developing.  And then there was the kissing, and the way Duncan would settle Matthew against his chest while they watched a movie or while they just listened to music.  Duncan had come on so strong at first that Matthew was sure that they would have done everything by now, and he was sure they would have if he’d not been awake when Duncan had actually believed him to be sleeping.

Duncan lay in the corner of the sectional, with Matthew in his usual spot between the muscular thighs, his back resting against the warm solid mass that was Duncan’s chest.  He’d almost fallen asleep as they lay listening to one of Duncan’s favorite jazz CDs, but was pulled out of his stupor by the soft kisses that Duncan placed on the top of his head.  As he felt the strong fingers comb through his thick, blond hair, Matthew heard a sigh of contentment that he’d only ever heard once before.  It was the sigh he’d made himself
—
almost fifteen years ago
—
when he finally realized that he had fallen in love.

“Hey you.”

The words pulled Matthew back to the present.  He looked up as he heard the raspy whisper near his ear.  He’d been lost in his own thoughts and remembered wondering where Duncan had been when he’d first arrived.  “Hey yourself,” he said, his lips curling into a slow smile.

“What were you thinking about?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Deal,” Duncan said and sat down on the floor across from Matthew.  “Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”

“Not really,” Matthew answered as he continued to try to work out the kink in his lower back that had been bothering him after a morning of sitting at his computer.  “Probably more writing.  Why?”

“Was wondering if you wanted to spend the night at my place.” 

He noticed that Duncan was only sort of looking at him, as if he were one of those magic paintings that hide an image that you can see if you don’t focus your eyes too intently.  Was Duncan embarrassed?  Or did he honestly think that Matthew would turn him down?  Matthew had been acutely aware that neither of them had spent the night with the other.  

“I hope you know you won’t be getting any sleep.”  He saw the relieved smile on Duncan’s handsome face and reached out to push against the solid shoulders.  He laughed as Duncan feigned an exaggerated roll backwards, as if his own strength was no match for Matthew’s.

“‘S okay,” Duncan shrugged as he righted himself.  “I’ll be tired, but still smiling.”

“I’ll make sure of that.”

Duncan opened his mouth to respond, but Emma and a few of the other participants entered the studio at that moment.  Duncan offered a quick wink and then was gone to greet the other members of the test group, leaving Matthew sitting on the hardwood floor thinking of anything that would curb his excitement and allow him to stand up without embarrassing himself.

* * * *

Matthew’s stomach had been in knots for the entire drive back to Duncan’s home, but as they walked through the front door, he began to feel the usual untroubled peacefulness that he had begun to associate with Duncan, and he found himself relaxing.  “I always forget how quiet it is here,” Matthew said as he hefted his duffle bag from his right to his left hand.

“Thanks.”  Duncan stood in front of him.  “Let me take that for you,” he said as he leaned down briefly for a tender kiss and then took the duffle bag and placed it near the stairs.  “Would you like dinner?”

“Sure,” Matthew said as he shrugged.  “Now is fine, or later.  I’ll let you decide.”

“Later, definitely,” Duncan said with a lopsided smile and held out his hand.  “I have something I want to show you.”  Matthew put his hand in Duncan’s and followed him to a smaller room on the other side of the stairs; Matthew had noticed the room the few times he’d been over, but the door had always been closed.  The room was obviously a study of some sort.  There were even more books in here than on either side of the fireplace.  Matthew’s eyes widened as he tried to take in all of the floor-to-ceiling shelves that were stuffed with books of all kinds.  There were books on history, art, construction, computers and, of course, fitness.

“I may never leave this room.  I’ve never seen so many…”  Matthew said as he let go
of Duncan’s hand and found himself drawn to one particular shelf.  He reached out a hand and pulled one of the paperbacks from its position in the center of the shelf.  He felt Duncan move to stand behind him as he turned the book over in his hands.  It was his latest collection of short stories, published only four months before.  His eyes returned to the shelf to see all of his works right there, on the same shelf.