In the Blaze of His Hungers (5 page)

And as this conversation has revealed, Javier may not be as much of a
jerkwad as Ryan had thought, but he’s more of a basket case. That he’s decided he wants Ryan – needs him, maybe – is as worrying as it is thrilling.

It’s like a honey-trap; Ryan knows, on
some level, that he shouldn’t fall for it. That falling for it will get him what it got Fiona, even if Javier only left Fiona because he was gay, and that obviously won’t happen with Ryan.
That
won’t happen, but something else might. Javier might discover he still has issues about his sexuality. He might start drinking again. Or doing drugs. Or sleeping around. And that – Ryan doesn’t want to be involved with any of that. Not that he reads women’s magazines or anything, but when he’d last been to the dentist, a magazine in the waiting room had this scary article about emotional unavailability and damaged men and dysfunctional relationships and ‘red flags’, and Javier’s pretty much a giant red flag. Which, of course he would be a giant phallic object. Given how big his dick is.

And now Ryan’s
picturing Javier’s dick again. Wonderful. He was making such progress.

“Where’re you going to college?” Javier asks, too carefully, like he doesn’t mean to imply that he would totally follow Ryan interstate if Ryan’s college
was elsewhere. Jesus Christ. They’ve only boned, like,
thrice
. Ryan must be hallucinating that implication. Right? Right.

“I’m not going far. It’s only a three-hour commute from here. I’ll be able to come home every weekend.”

“Branston?”

“
Branston. It’s a small school, but they have a Computer Graphics program I’m keen on. I do coding of my own already, and I’ve, um, always been a fan of computer games. I want to design games of my own. Dad says it’s silly to choose to study a subject just because it’s a hobby, but I figure, why not? The gaming industry’s worth billions, nowadays. I’ll have no trouble finding a job.”

“Hm.” Javier leans back against the headboard. “Didn’t expect you to have it all figured out.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Gee, thanks. I feel so respected and appreciated.”

“You’re eighteen. You have no idea what direction your life’s going to take.”

“No one ever knows what’s going to happen. You’re almost forty, aren’t you?”

“I’m thirty-seven.”

Not thinking about the age difference.
Not thinking about it
. “Yeah, and you don’t know the future any more than I do.”

“That’s true.”

“It is.” Ryan looks down at his folded hands. “Uh, so about the me-working-for-you scenario… We should make it an actual thing. With you teaching me about engines and brakes and spare parts and letting me help out. That way, it’ll be convincing in case people see me hanging around your place. But you don’t have to pay me!” he adds quickly. “I don’t want to get paid by the man I’m gettin’ jiggy with. That would be majorly creepy.”

“I have to pay you if you’re working for me. That’s got nothing to do with the sex. It’s a separate issue, and it won’t make sense to anybody if you’re working for no
income. If anything, it’ll make them suspicious.”

“That’s what you say, but – ”

“No buts. If this is going to work, we need to be playing from the same playbook.”

First of all, Ryan doesn’t even know what ‘this’ is.
Or if it’s possible to ‘play’ it.

It sure doesn’t seem like a game.

Dad’s on a three-day break from work when Ryan tells him about his new part-time job at the Ferrera garage. They’re having dinner –
that Ryan has reconstituted from a series of varyingly edible leftovers – when Ryan brings it up.

Dad chews thoughtfully, and says: “Ferrera? Fiona Lopez’s ex-husband?”

“That’s the one.”

Dad looks concerned. “Son, it’s great
that you want to make money while picking up skills you can use for the rest your life, but Ferrera, he’s… he’s got a past.”

“Everyone’s got a past.”

“A shady past. He was doing drugs when he skipped town all those years ago. Word is he’s clean now, but… you need to be careful.”

The type of careful Ryan is around Javier is the type that features condoms, but Ryan can’t say
that
.  He feels terrible about manipulating his father like this – and the fact that he has to do so is likely a poor indication about Javier’s eligibility as an acceptable sexual and/or romantic partner – but it’s this or stop seeing Javier, and Ryan doesn’t want to stop seeing Javier. “It’s only a summer job. Maybe something I can keep doing on the side, even when I’m in college, to make a li’l extra on the side.”

“As long as Ferrera doesn’t try anything funny.”

Ryan almost chokes on his food. Does rimming count as ‘anything funny’? “Uh. No. He’s. He isn’t into any of that. I think.”

“Don’t just think. Know. And the moment you find out he’s mixed up in
any remotely criminal activity, you quit, you hear me?”

“C’mon, Dad, it isn’t like that. Javier runs a
plain old repair shop. It’s all strictly legal. And mostly boring, except for when a cool car comes in, and I get to learn about its engineering and its history as Javier waxes lyrical about how beautiful it is. The other day, there was a Cadillac V16. Can you believe it? Check this out; here’s a photo.” Ryan digs his mobile out of his pocket, scrolls to the car’s photograph and passes the phone to his dad.

Dad whistles. “Now that
is
a beauty. But it’s vintage. Ferrera’s got the parts?”

“He’s ordering them in.”

“Must be the Winstons’ car. Am I right?”

“Yep.” The
Winstons are local celebrities around here; they’re such a typical wealthy family that they could’ve stepped out of a sitcom. “They pay good.”

“
I bet they do.” Dad relaxes, reaching for his beer. “All right, son. Your call. It’s been years since Ferrera went off the tracks; maybe he has come back.”

Ryan hopes so, too.

* * *

Ryan has to inform Pete on account of losing most of their game-playing, male-bonding afternoons to his ‘job’. Pete’s even more against Ryan working for Javier than Ryan’s dad was, but Ryan passes it off as
a temporary measure, an ‘I’m in dire need of cash for college’ thing, taking care not to defend Javier against Pete’s (entirely justifiable) anger. Ryan paints his relationship with Javier as a distant, professional association, with Ryan learning the ropes on his own and Javier being unhelpfully hands-off.

Truthfully, Javier’s more hands-
on
than anything, crowding Ryan against any available surface, be it vertical or horizontal. They do get some work done – occasionally – but in-between customers, Javier’s constantly finding new ways to make Ryan moan. Ryan can’t say he minds – getting blown with his pants down around his ankles and his legs spread open across the cooling hood of a car, or getting fucked on top of the tools chest so hard that the tools rattle, or being fingered while he tries to memorize the names of various car components, and earning a stinging slap across his ass for every item he forgets.

It’s not always fun and games, though. Other times, when Javier’s too busy replacing windshields or joining steel panels with a soldering iron, Ryan empties his schoolbag of books and does his homework. He often pauses to admire the sight of Javier being shirtless and sweaty, with safety goggles pushed back over his black hair. If Javier notices Ryan watching, he just leers
and takes it out of Ryan later, when all their work is done.

Ryan knows his way around Javier’s kitchen, now, knows where the spoons are and what Javier’s ‘lucky’ glass is and which burner to avoid on the stove if he wants to keep his fingers. He can whip up a plain meal with what Javier has in his fridge, and can ensure that Javier has something worth cooking in said fridge, because he texts Javier reminders while he’s at school and Javier buys what they need. If Ryan
doesn’t
text Javier those reminders, all Javier buys are microwavable meals, canned tuna and protein shakes. And jalapeños. Javier’s obsessed with jalapeños. What he isn’t obsessed with – any longer – is the alcohol and the drugs. Like Javier had said, there isn’t a trace of of ’em anywhere in the house. It’s encouraging.

Some days, they spend hours fucking, until they’re two mindless bodies twining around each other, undulating against each other, coming again and again. Other days, Ryan finishes his assignments while
not-so-covertly snooping on Javier lifting weights (it’s better than porn, to be honest), or setting up a digital records system for the business and teaching Javier how to use the software.

What’s happening is that they’re beginning to matter to each other. It could
simply be that they’re growing accustomed to each other, but the combination of frequent mind-blowing sex and days spent working together is resulting in a new closeness between them, a new intensity, that neither of them is willing to talk about.

So they don’t talk about it.
It’s not like they need to talk about it, because it’s obvious from how charged their glances and touches have become that it is, whatever it is, happening.

* * *

Proof that ‘it’ is happening arrives in the form of one Dennis Irvine. Ryan doesn’t even recognize him, to begin with – beyond a fleeting impression of déjà vu – but
he
recognizes Ryan, and that’s where the trouble starts.

Ryan’s at the front counter in the garage, noting
down a customer’s name and contact details, when the customer suddenly says: “Oh, hey, it’s you. Ryan, isn’t it?”

Ryan shuts the logbook and
blinks. “Um,” he says. “Do I know you?”

The guy – Dennis
, according to the name Ryan’s written down – laughs. “I’m not sure whether to be offended or not. I guess it
was
kinda dark back there, wasn’t it?”

“Back… where?” Ryan can’t
place this guy’s face, although it feels like he should. It’s a nice face, not movie-star handsome, but symmetrical and pleasing. He has bright brown eyes and curly brown hair and… and
dimples
, okay, so he
is
Ryan’s type. He has the sort of tough, wiry frame that looks good in everything, and right this instant, it looks good in the denim jacket and tight jeans he’s wearing. Not that Ryan’s checking him out. ’Cause he’s not. Javier’s at the rear of the garage repairing Dennis’s Ford Mercury, and he is, admittedly, more Ryan’s type than Dennis, but… Ryan ain’t blind.

“The club, y’know? Watershed? A couple of months ago.” Dennis smiles. “Let’s just say you were
very
sweet to me. Must’ve been your first time; you were so cute.”

Oh.

Crap.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan sees Javier go still.

But Dennis carries on chattering, heedless, like he doesn’t care who overhears him. Ryan can’t decide whether it’s charming or annoying.

“Ultra-cute. Cute enough for me to give you my number.” Dennis mock-pouts. “You never called.”

“I, er, I’m sorry.” Ryan can’t believe it. Dennis is the guy he gave head to. The
first
guy he gave head to, and the only guy, other than Javier, that he’s ever been intimate with. He remembers Dennis’s features now, albeit indistinctly, and wonders if he should feel ashamed that he put his mouth on someone’s penis and then forgot who they were. “I was drunk out of my mind. I… I must’ve lost your number.”

“Well, I’ve given it to you again.” Dennis
taps the logbook. “Call me this time, huh?”

Ryan can virtually feel himself go red. “I, um. I don’t think. That is, I’m not – ”

“Not interested? Could’ve fooled me.” Dennis lounges against the counter, never looking away from Ryan, like he can’t take his eyes off him. “And in case it’s the age thing that’s bothering you – ”

Ryan does
not
wince.

“ – I’m not that much older. I’m at
Branston; I only graduated from high school three years ago.”

“
Branston? I’ll be going there soon. Uh. I hope. If I get in.”

“Seriously? That’s awesome!
Even more of a reason to hang onto my number. You ever need someone to show you around, you call me.” Dennis is all but bouncing on his feet. Is he genuinely that excited at the prospect of seeing Ryan around campus? “I’m doing Law. You?”

“Computer Graphics. Specializing in gaming.”

“Wow. You just get cooler and cooler.”

Ryan doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s gone right past red to scarlet. Dennis is so into him that it’s like a scene from
a romantic comedy, featuring a smitten, bumbling hero that the audience instinctively roots for. It makes Ryan feel like a jerk, because he’s about to turn Dennis down, and it’s for a man he can’t even talk about. “Thanks for the, um. Offer. To show me around Brantson. But I’m… I don’t want to date anyone. Yet.”

Dennis doesn’t
seem the slightest bit disappointed. Shit. “Sure. We can be friends.”

And then friends with benefits, and then boyfriends
, goes unsaid. Dennis is so transparent that Ryan doesn’t have to imagine what he’s thinking. Ryan doesn’t know how to deal with people like Dennis – people for whom the glass is always half-f, people so naturally cheerful that you sort of feel curmudgeonly and grumpy in comparison. Maybe it’s a bad sign that he feels more put-together around Javier, because feeling comparatively more functional around your partner isn’t what a relationship is about. Is it?

Before Dennis leaves, he leans in
closer to Ryan and whispers: “Is your boss homophobic, or something? He’s been glaring in our direction for like the past ten minutes.”

“Ha
ha,” says Ryan, unable to make it sound like a laugh. He’s too frazzled. “That’s how he is with everybody. Don’t mind him.”

“Then I won’t. See you ’round, Ryan.”

Ryan only waves his hand in a goodbye, because he doesn’t want to say ‘See you, too’ and not mean it.

* * *

The garage seems way too small after Dennis’s departure. Javier’s eyes are burning holes into Ryan’s back, so Ryan turns around to confront him, only for Javier’s eyes to flick away.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Ryan snaps. “Don’t you pull that fourth-grade nonsense with me.”

And Javier’s looking back at him, but his expression’s so impassive it’s like he’s wearing a mask. Compared to Dennis’s see-through personality, Javier’s sucks balls. (Very well, from Ryan’s personal experience. Damn it. Ball-sucking is an art Javier has truly mastered.) “What fourth-grade nonsense?”

“That passive-aggressive bullshit you’re trying to pull. You’re jealous. I get it.”

“Do you?” Javier asks, softly. There’s a hint of darkness in his question – a hint of danger – but Ryan disregards it because that is the way to handle most of Javier’s Javier-ness. Dennis’s enthusiasm was difficult for Ryan to manage, but Javier’s angsty Victorian-era man-pain is a piece of cake. Hell, maybe Ryan’s more fucked up than both of them.

“You haven’t got anything to be jealous about.”

“Let me see. You’ve had sex with him – ”

“It was just a blowjob!
It only happened once! And it was long before I met
you
, Mr. I’ve Slept With Every Man In New York!”

“You’re attracted to him.”

“I – ” Okay, he can’t deny that. “I still turned him down. Also, to be fair… You and me, we never discussed exclusivity. We just began assuming it, and even that only recently. But I
still
turned him down.”

“You’ll be attending the same college.”

“With twenty thousand other people, none of whom I’m going to bone.”

“Why not?”

“What the hell do you mean, why not?” Ryan throws his hands up in the air. “I give up. If nothing’s gonna convince you – ”

“It’s not me you need to convince.” Javier’s voice is still quiet, the menace not quite gone out of it. He
shuts his toolbox, wipes his greasy fingers on a faded yellow towel. His movements are neat, economical and somehow graceful. “It’s you.”

Ryan pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re not making any sense.”

Javier walks – no, stalks – toward Ryan. It’s a rolling, predatory gait, and the
intent
in those eyes is unmistakable. It makes Ryan flush from the inside out, because that’s what Javier looks like when he’s planning to give it to Ryan. Hard. The situation they’re in isn’t exactly sex-inducing, however, so Ryan feels as confused as he does turned on.