Photo from Pixabay, Webandi.
Randy sat down on the bed with a loud huff. “So, that offer
still stand?” he asked, not entirely confident that it wasn't just a joke on
D's part.
“Sure,” D said. “You are talking about where I mentioned you
should just bring you guys' stuff to our hotel, right? 'Cause that's the only
offer I can think of.”
“Yeah, that's the one.”
“You decide if you want your own room or do you want to
crash in one of our suites?” D paused, and Randy watched as a wondering look
crossed his face. “Though,” he continued, “I'm not too sure what the
arrangement is anymore. I know Jim's staying at his house, but I'm not sure
where Roc's at for the night,” D finished as Randy watched him glance around
the small room.
“We'll figure it out; I'm sure,” Randy said, standing up,
and then he started shoving his stuff in his bag and Billie's in hers.
“Hey, is everything okay?” D asked.
“Yeah, I just don't want anyone getting hurt in this mess.
Most of all Billie, but if I'm completely honest with myself, I know it's going
to be her making people hurt.”
“Well, Roc said that Billie made it perfectly clear that
Von'll be a mere afterthought once you two head back home. So, he's a smart guy,
if he wants to dupe himself . . . well, that's on him. Don't get me wrong, I
feel for him. It's a harsh situation, but I also understand that it's your
sister's life. What she has left is hers to do with, and I don't blame her one
bit for trying to make the most of what she's got. You make it seem like she's
being selfish but put yourself in her shoes. Say you find out tomorrow that you
have a week, a month, or maybe even a year left to live—what would you do with
that time? Would you do what makes you happy or would you do everything
everyone else wants you to do, even when you don't want to, and be miserable?”
“I get what you're saying. I understand it, to a point. But,
she—”
“Chose it?” D said as he sat on the bed next to Randy. “Maybe
so, but it was her decision. Again, if it were you on round three with little
to no hope, would you choose to be miserable, knowing you had no time left to
make up for it later on, just so someone else could be happy? Even though,
they'd have more opportunity at happiness than you would?”
“When you put it that way, you kind of make me seem like an
ass for wanting her to fight,” Randy said, burying his face in the palms of his
hands, frustrated.
“You're not an ass for not wanting to lose your sister. It
actually makes you the exact opposite, and it probably takes its toll on Billie
because she's not stupid. She can see what the situation's doing to you. I'm
sure she does.”
Randy felt the light touch of fingertips against his cheek,
and he pulled his face from his hands, amazed that his hands were dry for once.
His tears had been all too common that he'd fully expected their appearance. He
looked at D. The man's dark chocolate eyes burned with questions and invited
Randy in with a warmth he'd never seen. Randy saw a caring and understanding
there he never encountered anywhere, not even from those he knew well in his
life. Not even from Billie. He wondered how a near stranger could understand
more about what he was going through than people he'd known nearly his whole
life? It felt improbable; impractical.
Randy reached up, placing his hand over D's where it still
lingered over his cheek, and he closed his eyes. “I know that I can't be mad at
her for doing what she feels is right.” He dragged in a heavy breath, and when
he exhaled, it carried on it the weight he held on his shoulders. “But, I can't
help but feel sad . . . no . . . angry for what's happening. It's not even her
choices, her decisions, I'm angry with. It's the situation itself. It all just
sucks, and I wish . . .” He fell silent, letting the warmth on his cheek from
D's hand spread throughout his body.
“What?” D asked, a trace of something in his voice Randy
couldn't decipher.
Randy opened his eyes, meeting D's warm, caring eyes, again.
He brought the hand that held D's over to his lips, and he brushed those lips
over D's knuckles. His other hand reached up to push a clump of hair out of the
way that threatened to obstruct their eye contact.
“Right now, I wish I could be more like her. I wish I could
just take what I want, consequences be damned, but I can't,” Randy said,
pressing his lips against D's knuckles once more before dropping his hand.
“Why not?” D asked.
“Because, what then? A week of passion? A week of getting to
know one another, and then I go home and forget about you? I doubt I
could do that. I get the feeling you couldn't either.”
“You didn't follow anything I said, did you? The point is,
we're all going to die. We don't always know when. In a way, Billie's lucky.
She's been given that push that allows her to ignore the what-ifs and
just go for it. Maybe there's something we both can learn from that.”
“No. I can't. I don't know. I need to think about this,”
Randy said in a rush, breaking eye contact and pushing from the bed to stand.
He felt D grab his hand, and he fell the short distance back
to the bed. He looked at D in shock.
“Thinking is the problem, Randy.” D's hands went to the
sides of Randy's face.
He had time to pull away. D gave him the option to say no if
he really wanted to. Instead, Randy felt himself leaning in toward D. Time
nearly stopped as D's lips met his. He'd expected it to be rougher. He'd seen
the need, the desire in D's eyes before he'd closed his own, accepting that the
kiss was happening, but D's lips were gentle, soft. Randy's mouth fell open,
letting D's tongue slip in and caress his. Randy responded in kind. His hands
ran up to D's hair and pushed on the back of his head, bringing them somehow
closer and deepening the kiss. Randy pulled away breathless; his fingers began
to fumble with the buttons of his shirt.
“Slow down, tiger,” D said, causing Randy’s hands to freeze.
“Wha—what?” Randy said, confused. “Is this some kind of
joke? Get me all worked up, and then leave me with blue-balls?”
D leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against Randy's. “No,
but I don't have anything with me. Do you have something here?”
“Shit. No, I gave what I had to Billie. Of course, I didn't
have any plans to use any myself on the trip.” Randy re-buttoned the two
buttons he'd managed to undo.
D laughed a bit under his breath. “Blue-balls? Really?”
“What? It's been a while? Don't judge me?”
“No, no. I'm not.” He paused, and Randy could see him
thinking something over. “A while. How long's a while?”
“A while.”
“What a month? Two?” D asked, and Randy shook his head.
“Over six?”
Randy looked to the floor.
“You're kidding? With the way you look, you haven't had sex
in over six months?”
“It's not like I haven't tried. I even tried online dating.
Let's say it didn't end well, and Billie didn't appreciate the scare when the
cops insisted I go to the hospital. I'd rather not talk about that, though,”
Randy said, running his hand through his hair as he felt the grimace tug at his
face.
“Maybe one day you'll feel comfortable sharing that story,
but right now, I've got an idea. I don't feel comfortable thinking that I've
made any part of you blue.” D slid from the bed to the floor, situating himself
on his knees in front of Randy.
“Nah, man, you don't have to do that,” Randy said when he
realized what D was suggesting.
D crooked his finger at Randy, telling him silently to come
closer. Randy did, and D pulled him into another kiss. When D broke away, his
mouth went to Randy's ear. “I don't have to, but I want to,” he said and
flicked his tongue against Randy’s earlobe.
Randy let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling. He
felt when D's hands went to his fly and worked to undo the button there, and
the thought of what he was getting himself into flitted through his mind before
it was quickly chased away by the feel of D's mouth on him.
