Better than Sex (San Francisco Sex Gods #1)

Chapter 34

THIRTY-FOUR

Spencer

Spencer leaned his scooter against the porch railing of Greg’s townhouse and climbed the stairs, still uncertain of what he was going to say to Mickey. He’d rehearsed so many speeches, practiced so many different ways to say “I’m sorry,” that none of the words in his head made sense anymore.

Hesitating in front of the door, he took a deep breath and dried his palms on his pants. He’d wing it. Speak from his heart. He trusted that when he saw Mickey he would find the right words.

As he rang the doorbell, he caught a hint of his reflection in the door’s red stained glass inset.

“Shit!” He quickly unsnapped his helmet and whipped it off his head, then ran his fingers through his flat, sweaty hair to fluff it back up.

An attractive man opened the door. Although he looked different from the picture in the hallway that Mickey had shown him, Spencer recognized the man as Greg. His beard had been shaved, and he had more grey at his temples, but his icy blue eyes were unmistakable.

Greg smiled. “Hi. What can I do for you?”

Before Spencer could answer, Logan appeared in the doorway to the living room. “Who is it, Daddy?” When he saw Spencer, he took a step back until his little body was partially obscured by the doorframe. He raised his hand for a shy wave.

“Logy, why don’t you go pick out a book, and I’ll read to you in a minute?”

The boy spun around and disappeared into the living room, shouting “Yay!” as he retreated.

Chuckling, Greg turned back to Spencer.

“Hi,” Spencer said, suddenly and uncomfortably aware that he was intruding on this family’s privacy. “Is Mickey home?”

“No, sorry. He met a friend for lunch.”

“He’s with Jazz?”

Greg studied Spencer for a moment. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “He’s with a guy named Keith. From the dog shelter.”

Keith.

Spencer’s shoulders dropped forward as his breath left him in a shaky exhale. Crestfallen, he brought to mind his discussion with Mickey from the night of the sex lesson. Those memories had been a source of joy over the last few weeks, but now they seemed laced with poison.

Keith.

The man who Mickey thought was cute.

The man who’d been flirting with him on his volunteer shifts at the shelter.

The man who Spencer had encouraged Mickey to ask on a date the next time he saw him.

Mickey’s not answering my text because he’s on a date.

He didn’t know why he was surprised to hear Mickey was dating someone. The entire time they’d been friends, he’d done nothing but make it clear to Mickey that the two of them weren’t dating. Even when it was clear Mickey wanted more, Spencer had clung to his mantra: Sex gods don’t date.

Well, now Mickey was free to pursue someone who could meet his needs. He was probably excited to make up for lost time. He wasn’t a virgin anymore. He’d had sex, so he knew how good a distraction it could be, how it could numb the pain. For a little while, at least.

“Oh, ummm.” Spencer forced a swallow around the dry lump in his throat. “Okay.”

His heart clenched with the painful realization that Mickey might have already gotten over him. Maybe their night together hadn’t meant as much to Mickey as it had to him.

Had he been fooling himself the entire time?

(Love is a lie.)

Spencer averted his eyes to avoid Greg’s steady gaze. Nearby on the porch, in a shadow cast by the bay window, was a small tea set. Propped up near one of the pink plastic teacups was Logan’s stuffed tiger, Mister Stripes.

With a wistful smile, Spencer bent down and picked up the doll. The plush animal’s presence seemed appropriate. A bookend of sorts. Mister Stripes was there at the beginning, when he and Mickey first met, and now he was here, at the end, when it was time to say goodbye.

He handed the toy to Greg.

Greg squeezed the stuffed tiger. “Thanks. My son loves this little guy, but he’s good at leaving him around. He’d be devastated if he lost him.”

Spencer nodded and without saying another word he turned and started down the stairs.

“Spencer?” Greg asked, his voice gentle and tentative.

Spencer paused when he reached the sidewalk. Although he couldn’t bring himself to look at Greg, he turned his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to give him a message?”

He’s moving on. Let him be. You have your answer now.

“Don’t bother,” Spencer said, shaking his head. “I’ll text him.”

He put his helmet back on and was about to mount his scooter when Greg closed the door. The click of the lock mechanism made him flinch. It was so final . He wouldn’t get to rewrite the ending of their story. There would be no heart-to-heart conversation, or tearful reunion. No second chances or do-overs. There was only a click, like the cocking of a pistol aimed at his heart.

He started his scooter and took off in the direction of his apartment building, his mind finally silent.

There was no more need for words.

Mickey

The timer buzzed and Mickey rushed from where he was setting the table to pull his chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. From her place on the loveseat, Pepper perked up her ears and sniffed the air before returning to her nap.

When they’d arrived home after the park, Pepper walked through the apartment, exploring every nook and cranny of her new home before climbing onto the loveseat and curling up into a contented ball. The spot she picked was the place where Mickey sat and read on his days off. He figured the cushion smelled like him and made her feel safe.

With the cookies on a cooling rack, he returned to setting the table and getting everything ready for his dinner with Jazz. She was coming over to meet Pepper, and he was looking forward to an evening with his friend. Hopefully some wine and good conversation would help take his mind off Spencer’s out-of-nowhere text and all the confusing feelings it stirred up inside him.

The clang of the doorbell roused Pepper from her nap. She sprang to her haunches and barked.

“Who’s here?” Mickey asked, pitching his voice higher to convey his excitement.

Pepper’s tail wagged as she ran over to the top of the stairs, her nails skittering across the floor. She waited until Mickey started downstairs and then followed close behind.

In the kitchen, the countertop was cluttered with unwrapped chocolate bars, sleeves of graham crackers, and bags of giant fluffy marshmallows. Logan and Izzy’s laughter and spirited cheers about playing Mario Kart carried in from the living room. Pepper crept toward the kitchen door and warily peeked into the foyer. When the microwave timer beeped, Pepper – frazzled from all the noises and excitement – turned tail and dashed to the safety of the back hall.

Greg jogged into the kitchen and removed a plate of half-finished s’mores from the microwave. “Hi, Mickey, want to give me a hand?”

Together, they topped off the gooey melted marshmallow and chocolate desserts with more graham cracker squares. Pepper hovered near the back stairs, craning her neck to get a look at the countertop.

“Oh, Pepper, I didn’t see you there,” Greg said in a soothing voice. He cracked off the corner of a graham cracker and asked, “May I?” When Mickey nodded, he held the cracker down at Pepper’s level. “Here you go.”

Pepper took a few cautious steps in Greg’s direction, clearly interested in his offered treat. After a sniff and a sample lick, she took the cracker and happily munched on it while Greg scratched behind her ears.

“The kids are set up for their first round of Mario Kart,” Jazz said as she came into the kitchen. “That should keep them occupied for about five minutes.” She placed a grocery bag on the counter and pulled out a bottle of wine. “Thanks for hosting the playdate, Greg. Here’s a little something for afterwards.”

Greg smiled and accepted the wine. “It’ll help me come down from the sugar high after eating all this chocolate.”

She held up a second bottle of wine and turned to Mickey. “And this one’s for us. Shall we?”

“Oh, Mickey, before you head up.” Greg licked some melted chocolate off his finger and wiped his hands with a dish towel. “Do you have a sec to talk?”

Mickey knitted his brow. “Sure.” He reached into his pocket for a couple of dog treats and handed them to Jazz. “You can help yourself to some wine and spend a little time with Pepper.” To his dog, he said, “I’ll be right up.”

Pepper whined, and despite Jazz’s coaxing, she refused to follow her. She lay down at the base of the stairs, rested her head on her paws, and watched Mickey with her soulful eyes.

“Oh well. I have all night to win her over. See you up there,” Jazz said before heading upstairs.

Mickey took a seat at the table. “Is everything alright?”

After a quick glance to the foyer to make sure the children hadn’t wandered out of the living room, he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “Spencer dropped by this afternoon.”

“He did?” Mickey’s heart somersaulted in his chest. First a text, then an unannounced visit? Clearly Spencer was eager to talk to him. After everything that had happened between them, though, he was afraid to get his hopes up. Maybe Spencer wanted to invite him back to brunch, as a friend. Maybe he was interested in something more. But knowing Spencer, it would be an offer for no-strings-attached sex. Mickey was still trying to sort himself out, but he was sure he wouldn’t be happy being someone’s fuck buddy. “Did he say anything?”

“He just asked if you were here. When I told him you were at lunch with Keith, he left.”

“He doesn’t know about the adoption.” Sunday was Mickey’s day off, so Spencer had taken a chance on him being home. But this wasn’t just Mickey’s home, it was his place of employment. By stopping by, Spencer had brought their personal drama directly to his boss’s doorstep. Mickey wilted, his shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry he disturbed you and Logan. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Greg shook his head. “That’s not it, Mickey. This is your home, too. You can have friends and boyfriends stop by. I guess I wanted to check in about whether he was still welcome here. Is he a friend? Or a boyfriend?”

Mickey sighed. “I’m not sure. We haven’t talked since the fight.”

“If he comes back, would you like me to give him a message?”

“No, I’ll take care of it.”

Greg half-smiled, causing creases to form at the edges of his concerned eyes. He brought the plate of s’mores to Mickey, encouraging him to take one. “If it’s any consolation, he looked miserable.”

Mickey chuckled despite the stab of pain in his heart. “Thanks, Greg.” He selected the least goopy-looking s’more and popped it in his mouth.

“Well, I’m off to play Mario Kart. Wish me luck.” Greg carried the plate into the living room and his question, “Who’s ready for s’mores?” was met with boisterous cheers by Logan and Izzy.

It was amazing how much had changed over the last few months. At the beginning of the summer, watching Greg lick melted chocolate off his fingers would have given Mickey an instant erection. Greg had been the star of all his masturbatory fantasies, always showing up in his pilot uniform – strong, confident, and inexplicably sweaty.

Now his fantasies were about Spencer holding him, surrounding him, whispering sweet things into his ear while they made love. He’d swapped one unattainable fantasy for another.

When would he meet someone who’d fantasize about him ? When did he get to be somebody’s dream guy?

He forced down the suddenly-too-sweet s’more, and with Pepper close at his heels he trudged up the back stairs, looking forward to numbing himself with a glass of wine.

After dinner, Mickey made tea and brought the plate of cookies to the loveseat where Jazz was playing with Pepper. He’d bought an assortment of toys for her, but so far, the only one she’d taken an interest in was a pastel pink squeaky ball. Apparently her new favorite game was fetch. Again and again, Jazz would roll the ball to the other side of the room, and Pepper would jog after it, scoop it up in her jaws, and bite down on it with every step – squeak, squeak, squeak – all the way back to the loveseat where the game would start again.

“Mickey?”

With a start, Mickey realized he’d zoned out while watching his dog and was frozen in place with a cookie halfway to his mouth. “Sorry.”

“You were quiet all through dinner. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” He slid the plate of cookies toward Jazz. “Let me know what you think about the cookies. Sophie at the dog shelter told me her secret ingredient. Butterscotch extract.” He shoved half a cookie in his mouth and mumbled around it. “I had to be careful with the chocolate now that Pepper lives here. Chocolate is bad—”

Jazz placed her hand on his forearm. “Mickey, take a breath.”

After a sip of tea, Mickey swallowed the sticky mass of cookie. Trying to hide things from his best friend was futile. “Spencer texted me today, asking if we could talk.”

“Oh.” Jazz rolled the ball down the hallway toward Mickey’s bedroom, which had Pepper scurrying out of the living room in hot pursuit.

“And Greg told me he stopped by this afternoon while I was at the shelter.”

“Have you texted him back?”

“No.”

“Are you going to?”

“I don’t know.” Pepper hurried back with the ball and dropped it in Mickey’s lap. He scratched under her chin and rolled it to the other side of the room. “Part of me thinks I should still be angry with him. I should be angry, right? He really hurt me.”

“He did. It’s been over a week since your fight, though. He’s had time to think. Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Mickey shrugged. “Maybe.”

In the kitchen, Pepper plopped down in front of the stove and chewed on her ball. The resulting chorus of tiny, happy squeaks formed an ironic counterpoint to Mickey’s conflicting emotions.

He buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Sometimes I wish none of this had ever happened. That I just stayed in my world of crushes and fantasies. That I never found out how much it hurt to have my heart broken.”

Jazz slid closer to him on the loveseat. She pried his hands away from his face and held them in her own. “Oh honey. Dating comes with risks. Sometimes, getting hurt is a part of it. But you’ve come such a long way this last month.”

“Thanks to Spencer.” He snorted derisively. “He cleaned me up and paraded me around to his friends. ‘Look what I did with this loser I found!’”

Jazz slapped his hand. “Stop. First of all, I don’t think that’s what Spencer was doing. Sure, he gave you a haircut and some fashion tips, but that’s not what I was talking about. You’ve been more confident. More sure of yourself. This summer, you’ve been the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“Yeah, because I finally got laid.”

They broke into laughter, causing Pepper to look up from her toy, her ears pricked up and her tail wagging.

Once they’d composed themselves, Jazz rested her head on his shoulder. “Losing your virginity is a big deal. I know Spencer hurt you, but don’t give up yet. We just have to build on your momentum. How do we get you back in the game?”

“I guess I could walk Pepper through the park every day with a Date Me sign on my back until I stumble across a nice gay boy who believes in monogamy and happily ever afters.”

“Or…” Jazz said, walking her fingers up his arm.

“Uh oh.”

“How about giving speed dating another try?”

“Really?” Mickey chewed on his lip. “It didn’t go so well for me the first time.”

“I don’t know, you met Spencer, and that guy Geoffrey. You had a lot in common with him. Maybe he’ll be there again.”

“Yeah, some of the guys were cool.”

“What’s more, this time you’ll know what to expect. You won’t be as nervous. And I know Jack would like to see you again.”

“I don’t know.” Mickey groaned and slumped over the armrest dramatically. Pepper trotted over and licked him on the nose, making him giggle.

“Listen,” Jazz said, patting Mickey’s knee. “I’ll get a sitter so I can stay until the end. If no one picks you this time, we can have a few drinks and hang out with Nathan when his shift ends.”

“Okay, fine. But I’m starting to think this is more for you than it is for me.”

Jazz pulled out her phone. “Oh shush. It’s all for you.” After a bit of scrolling, she announced, “The next event is a couple weeks away, and they’re still looking for eligible bachelors.” She narrated out loud as she filled in the registration form. “Mickey. Briggs. Twenty-eight. Pisces. Description: Tired of swimming upstream, this Pisces stud is looking for a special fish to share his pond.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Oh god, I’m never getting laid again.”

Hours later – after they’d finished their cookies and challenged the kids to several rounds of Mario Kart – Mickey climbed into bed with his Kindle, ready to lose himself in Wetdown , the romance novel Geoffrey recommended on their speed date. Judging from the cover art and blurb, he was in for a steamy tale about hunky firefighters in a small Texas town.

Pepper was snuggled up next to him with her head on his pillow. He wanted her close, especially as she was getting used to her new home, so she could trust she was safe and wasn’t going to be abandoned again. There was no reason to make her sleep in the other room when his bed was plenty big enough for both of them. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone else was vying for the space.

Granted, the sleeping arrangement might make things awkward when he got to the good parts in his book, but he’d cross that bridge when he got there.

Since there was a nip in the night air, he and Pepper were cuddled under his quilt. It wasn’t long before he was relaxed and pleasantly drowsy, wandering the streets of Hearthstone, Texas in his mind’s eye.

Ten pages in, Flint – the intrepid and thickly muscled hero of the story – arrived at the fire house to meet with the chief and start his first shift after moving to Hearthstone from the big city. The fire chief introduced himself. His name? Spencer.

Of course it’s Spencer.

Mickey shut off his Kindle and placed it on his nightstand next to his phone. Turn off the light and go to sleep. His fingers closed around his phone. Don’t do it. Ignoring his inner voice of reason, he unlocked his phone and navigated to Spencer’s text.

His thumbs moved slowly over the keypad as he carefully chose his words.

MICKEY

I don’t want to fight anymore

His thumb hovered over the Send icon. With a huff of frustration, he deleted his message and typed a new one.

MICKEY

I just want to understand why

His voice of reason pleaded with him. Stop. It’s best not to answer him. Protect your heart.

He deleted the message and tried again, cutting to the chase and going for honesty.

MICKEY

I miss you

Beside him, Pepper whined and nuzzled his cheek. “You’re right.” He kissed her nose. “I won’t send it.”

(You listen to your dog but not to me?)

He locked his phone, put it on his nightstand, and shut off the light.

“There. Are you happy?” he whispered at the ceiling, hoping to appease his inner voice. When no answer was forthcoming, he searched his mind for a pleasant distraction. He settled on calling up an image of Flint in his firefighter uniform, his jacket open, his sweaty chest bare and smudged with soot, with a long hose dangling from his hand.

His gaze panned upward to Flint’s ruggedly handsome face: his black hair peeking out from under his helmet, his square jaw, his sapphire-blue eyes. Mickey tried to hold the image, but it shimmered like a heat mirage. The man’s hair faded to a sandy blond. His jawline softened. His blue eyes darkened to a rich chocolate brown. When the transformation was complete, it was Spencer staring back at him from under the fire helmet, whispering, “ I miss you, too .”