Better than Sex (San Francisco Sex Gods #1)

Chapter 12

TWELVE

Spencer

Mickey seemed more like himself as they made their way past the department store’s fragrance counters, dodging particularly aggressive sales associates and holding their breath against the miasma of competing perfumes that hung in the air like fog. He’d been quiet during lunch, and although Spencer tried to engage him in conversation, Mickey kept his eyes trained on his burger and answered with one- or two-word replies.

Suspecting that the surprise meeting with Devon was to blame, Spencer joked that hookups were like a game of Whac-A-Mole – you could never predict where one might pop up unexpectedly. Mickey chuckled, and after that he slowly came around, making eye contact with Spencer and laughing more easily.

By the time they arrived at the menswear department, both of them were laughing and joking with one another, the awkwardness from lunch a distant memory. “Here we are,” Spencer said, sweeping his hand in front of him. Racks of clothing and smartly dressed mannequins sprawled in front of them, a seemingly infinite sea of cotton and wool stretching to the left and right as far as the eye could see.

Mickey wrung his hands, his eyes jumping from rack to rack. “Oh my god. It’s huge. Where do we even start?”

“We’ll start small. It helps to have a plan. We’ll focus on finding you a new look for brunch tomorrow, when you meet the other guys.”

Mickey’s eyes had glazed over. Clearly overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices, his chest rose and fell with rapid shallow breaths as if he were teetering on the verge of an anxiety attack.

Spencer rested his hand on Mickey’s shoulder, startling him. “It can be overwhelming, I get it. You’ll learn how to filter out what doesn’t work for you and focus on what does.” He firmed his grip on Mickey’s shoulder, hoping it had a grounding influence on his friend. “Where do you usually shop for clothes?”

“Target. But that’s usually if I’m buying underwear, or socks.” His voice rose at the end, as if it were a question. “Almost everything I have is a hand-me-down from my older brothers.”

“Have you ever bought clothes for yourself?”

Mickey shrugged. “A T-shirt here and there.”

“Okay, so we’re starting from square one. The first step is finding a few labels that work for you. We can look at a couple of legacy brands, like Ralph Lauren and Perry Ellis. See if you like those and go from there?”

Mickey chewed on his lower lip as his gaze swept the entire department, from one wall to the other. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Since I can’t imagine doing this by myself anytime soon, can you help me buy more than one outfit? Like, maybe a few shirts and pants that go together? I have some money set aside.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Mickey snorted. “I don’t get out much, so it’s easy to save up.”

“I mean, you want me to help you build a capsule wardrobe?”

“Only if you want to.” Mickey shook his head. “It’s asking a lot.”

“I’d love to. It’ll be fun.”

Spencer led Mickey through the department, stopping for a moment at each brand and asking Mickey what he liked or didn’t like, until they arrived at the Calvin Klein offerings.

“I like these clothes a lot,” Mickey said, letting his fingers trail along a rack of button-up shirts. “They feel like me.”

“Calvin Klein’s a great choice. Well-made, classic style, but still fresh and modern.” Spencer surveyed the racks, hands on his hips, finally nodding and rubbing his hands together. “This’ll work. What are your favorite colors?”

“Blue and green. I like cool colors.”

Spencer slid shirts along the rack, occasionally pulling one out and placing it on a nearby table. “The key to a capsule wardrobe is a tight color palette. What do you think about this one?” He held up a shirt with a tattersall check in cornflower blue and mint green.

“It’s really nice.”

“Turn around for a sec.” Spencer placed the shirt against Mickey’s back, taking careful note of the width of the shoulders. “Medium, just like I suspected. You tend to wear clothes that are too big for you. Wearing the right size will instantly elevate your style. It’ll make you look like you’re wearing your clothes, rather than your brother’s.”

Spencer strolled around the racks, collecting an armful of potential shirts and T-shirts and laying them out over a display of polos. After some arranging and rearranging, he settled on five button-up shirts and three T-shirts in varying shades of blue, green, and light grey that all went together perfectly. “Now, let’s get you some pants.”

Mickey gathered up the shirts and draped them over his forearm. “You’re good at this.”

“Thanks.” Spencer held up a pair of tan chinos to Mickey’s waist and clicked his tongue when he saw that the legs were too long and pooled over Mickey’s shoes. “I’ve picked stuff up here and there, styling photo shoots.”

In a quiet voice, Mickey asked, “You mean the porn films?”

Chuckling, Spencer held up another pair of pants that looked to be the right size for Mickey and draped them over his arm. “Shockingly, clothing isn’t a huge consideration in porn. The guys just wear their own clothes, usually. No, for my boudoir clients. A lot of times I help them choose the outfits for their sitting.”

“Is it weird?”

“The boudoir photography? No, it’s fun.” Spencer added another pair of chinos to the pile that Mickey was hauling around and moved to a rack of jeans. “I get to photograph people when they feel powerful. In touch with their sexuality. Sharing such an erotic and intimate moment with them?” He hummed. “It’s, uh…it’s beautiful.”

From the corner of his eye, Spencer watched Mickey lower his arm until the clothing he was carrying covered his belly. “Even if they don’t have a great body?”

“Especially then.” Spencer handed Mickey two pairs of jeans, one medium wash and one dark wash. “Let’s find you a fitting room.”

Once they’d laid out the clothes in the fitting room, Spencer let his hand hover over the garments. He plucked a light green T-shirt and dark jeans off the bench. “Let’s try these first. It’ll help me decide if I have your size right.” He pointed behind himself with his thumb.

“Something caught my eye back there. Get changed, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

Spencer jogged to a rack set up near the fitting rooms, found the jacket he liked in Mickey’s size, and hurried back. He’d expected Mickey to emerge from the fitting room relatively quickly, but when Mickey hadn’t come out for several minutes, Spencer crept to the door and knocked. “Mickey? Is everything okay in there?”

“Ummm, I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you come out and we can talk about it?”

Spencer heard a sigh and a small click as Mickey unlatched the door. He stepped out slowly, frowning. He pawed at his clothes, knitted his brow, and crossed his arms in front of him. “They’re really tight.”

“It’s because they fit.”

“If you say so.”

Spencer beckoned him over to the mirror and stood behind him. He lowered Mickey’s arms to his side. “You have a great body. You should show it off.”

Mickey pulled the hem of the T-shirt away from his body, then dropped it with a huff. “You can see my belly.”

“You don’t need six pack abs to be sexy. I don’t have a ripped stomach. See?” Spencer lifted his shirt, flashing his abdomen. His stomach was flatter than Mickey’s, but still had a softness that obscured whatever abs he might have developed from following Xander’s workout plan. “It’s all about confidence. You’re a good-looking guy. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“You’re good-looking. I’m just ordinary.”

Spencer rested his chin on Mickey’s shoulder and met his eyes in the mirror. His next words were barely a whisper, ghosting across the shell of Mickey’s ear. “You’re far from ordinary, Mickey Briggs.”

Mickey fidgeted and dropped his gaze. He cocked his head to the side when he glimpsed the garment hung over Spencer’s arm. “What have you got there?”

“Oh right!” Spencer held up a slate blue jacket with breast pockets and antiqued metal buttons. “Here, try this on.”

Mickey slipped into the jacket. “It feels good,” he said, running his hand along the sleeve.

“It’s called a trucker jacket. This one’s made from brushed twill so it’s softer than denim. It made me think of you.”

“Really?”

“You have a lot of soft, textural fabrics in your apartment.”

A smile slowly dawned on Mickey’s face. He faced the mirror again, and turned from side to side, looking at himself from different angles.

Spencer stepped behind Mickey and straightened the back of the jacket’s collar where it got bunched up on the hanger. “Can you see that you look good?” He lightly gripped Mickey’s biceps. “You’re hot. But you’ll only have the confidence to make others see that if you can see it for yourself. Can I tell you what I see when I look at you?”

Mickey visibly swallowed and answered Spencer’s question with a meek nod.

“I see a man with kind eyes the color of honey. Who has great hair and a strong jawline. Beautiful lips. And a shy smile that makes me happy whenever I see it. I see a man with a great body.”

Mickey scoffed and covered his stomach with his hands. Gripping Mickey’s hands, Spencer gently lowered them to his side. “A man with a great body, with a little belly that suits him and only makes him sexier.”

Spencer hooked a finger under the neckline of Mickey’s T-shirt and pulled it down, revealing a glimpse of dark hair. “And I’ve seen enough to know you have a hairy chest, which is incredibly hot.” He stepped away so that the only reflection in the mirror would be Mickey’s. “Can you try to see that for yourself?”

Mickey took a step closer to the mirror. He opened the jacket and ran a hand over his belly again. Turned and looked at himself in profile. Turned a bit more and checked out his ass. A sly smile flickered on his face, there and then gone just as quickly. “Would you mind taking a picture of me so I can send it to my friend Jazz?”

“Sure, but over there where the light is better.” Spencer led Mickey to a square support pillar. “That’s better. Lights in the fitting area are always the worst.”

Mickey leaned back against the pillar and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Like this?”

“Put your hands in your pockets. Now, bend your knee and brace your foot behind you. Perfect. Hold that.” Spencer adjusted Mickey’s jacket, and then stepped back until he could frame Mickey with his phone’s camera.

The position Spencer selected was the epitome of casual cool, but Mickey held himself stiffly. “Okay, Mickey, look at me and smile.” Mickey forced a tight closed-lip smile that looked like he was constipated. Spencer snapped a picture. “Stay there, we’ll take a few.”

Spencer waited as Mickey took a few breaths. With every breath, a little of the tension drained from Mickey’s face and shoulders. Almost there. “Okay, let’s try this again. Say penis!” Mickey laughed and Spencer snapped another picture. “Penis always makes me smile.”

Mickey shifted against the pillar, lowering his shoulders and relaxing his stance. His face lit up with a broad, natural smile.

“There you are,” Spencer whispered. He snapped the final picture. When he pulled up the photo on his phone, Spencer was overcome by a deep sense of satisfaction. He’d captured Mickey’s essence. It was evident in the lines of his body and the curl of his lips. This was the one, a keepsake of a shared moment, hopefully one in which Mickey was feeling his best – handsome and sexy in a way he’d never before seen himself.

Spencer waved Mickey over to show him the picture. “What do you think?”

Mickey studied the picture, using his thumb and forefinger to zoom in on his face. “Wow, it’s really good. How did you…in most pictures I look like I’m in a police lineup.”

“It’s easy to take a great picture when you have a great subject. I’ll send it to you.” Spencer tapped at his phone with his thumbs. “There. Now let’s go try on the rest of those clothes.”

Mickey started off toward the dressing room but froze as soon as he was able to see himself in the mirror again. He lifted his foot from the floor and rolled his ankle in a circle, studying his scuffed, dirty Converse sneakers in the reflection. He hummed, scrunching up his face. “I don’t think these old sneakers work with my new clothes. Maybe we can buy some new ones?”

“Did you just ask me to take you shoe shopping?” Spencer asked, raising his eyebrows.

Mickey tried to backpedal. “Sorry, it’s too much. Forget it.”

“Are you kidding?” Spencer wrapped his arms around Mickey’s waist, picked him up, and spun him in a circle before setting his feet back on the ground. “Yes! I’ll take you shoe shopping.”

“Cool.” Mickey’s gaze drifted down to where Spencer still hugged him around his waist.

Spencer cleared his throat and released him. He thrust his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Yeah, of course. It’ll be fun.”

Mickey nodded his chin toward the dressing room. “I’m going to...”

“Try on another outfit. Yep.”

“Maybe the blue shirt?”

“With the tan chinos. Good idea.”

“Okay. I’ll be right out.”

As soon as Mickey disappeared into the dressing room, Spencer slumped against the wall. Rein it in, Ewing.

Their physical chemistry was undeniable. It pulsed between them like electricity whenever they were close to each other, whenever they touched. When they finally had sex, it was going to be incredible.

But he could be patient. There were still a couple of weeks before his birthday. Plenty of time to help Mickey find his confidence and get him ready to lose his virginity. No need to push him too fast and scare him off.

Mickey peeked his head out of the fitting room, his hair adorably mussed after taking off his T-shirt. “Thanks for picking out the jacket, by the way.”

A smile spread across Spencer’s face.

Maybe I can push him a little.