Page 29 of Naughty November

“You’re too young to look that old, buddy,” I said. “You okay?” I kicked out his chair and stuck a shrimp in my mouth.

He yawned and set his empty coffee mug in the sink before joining me. “I slept like shit. I think my neighbors are getting a divorce.”

I’d heard about their loud fights before.

“About time.” I eyed him as he prepared a plate with rice and sweet-and-sour chicken.

My bet? Another week or two, and then he’d set up accounts on various dating apps.

He’d always been chasing something. And it wasn’t that he couldn’t be single; his chase was related to whatever was going on inside his head at the moment. It was about his own identity. Where he’d fit in, who he was,whathe was. I’d watched him go through so many kink phases.

He’d made a good Daddy Dom, but he’d walked away from that too.

I hadn’t bothered looking in years. Why would I? I knew what I wanted. But since I couldn’t have that, I’d settled for casual arrangements and a handful of relationships predestined to fail.

“Thanks for coming over, by the way,” he said. “I wasn’t looking forward to my sad sandwich.”

“Everythin’ about you is a little sad now, innit?”

He frowned. “Thanks.”

I smiled.

THREE

MAX JENSEN

Even though I remembered those days, it never ceased to amaze me how much a fifteen-year-old boy could eat. This was his third or fourth serving. And we’d had Sunday lunch at my folks’ today, where he’d scarfed down half a chicken casserole.

“So when are you coming back?” he asked.

“Thursday morning,” I replied. “Are you gonna be able to finish all that, son?”

It was the last of the meatloaf and a mountain of mashed potatoes and gravy.

He adjusted his glasses and smirked. “Have you learned nothing?”

I laughed and leaned back in my chair.

I loved having him here. He brought life and color to the place. Sometimes literally. The other week, he’d come home with painted pots from a pottery class. A birthday gift he’d given Monica. Back in June, he’d come over with an actual gerbil, which was thankfully at his moms’ place now.

Alex chowed down, and I just sat there, soaking up the last moments. We usually made the switch after school on Monday, butsince Reid and I were flying to Florida first thing in the morning, I’d rather not wake Alex up at three AM.

If it weren’t for Alex being here this week, I wasn’t sure I would’ve survived with my sanity intact. Old Town was officially closed, with the last members having dropped by the attic today to clear the rest of the inventory of rope and toys.

The whole situation felt like…having lost the map to a treasure that may or may not exist. I’d lived on the hope thatmaybe… Maybe I’d eventually discover what role felt like more than a role. I mean, I fuckinglovedkink—why was it so hard? Why was it so exhausting?

I’d felt things click into place perfectly three times in my life. The first one—well, it was a series of small clicks, rather. When my big brother brought his buddy home. Meeting Reid. Befriending him. Little moments of getting to know him. A party here and there, getting stoned once or twice, discovering we were both into running and biking in rough terrain… He had this devilish grin that promised a good ride to hell, and I’d been four years younger and impressionable. Man, did I become his personal stalker. I’d wanted to be him, and I’d wanted to be with him. Back then, just a flash of that grin or a calculating look in his warm green eyes, and I’d been cooked and done.

The second time was obviously when myotherbest friend announced she wanted to be a mom, and she and her girlfriend stammered their way through their wish to have me as the father.

I hadn’t even hesitated, and the first time I’d held Alex in my arms—I couldn’t describe that feeling.

Lastly, when Reid and I decided to start Old Town. It’d felt so damn perfect, like I was finally on the right path to figuring things out. With him by my side, the world had looked like a place of opportunities. And we’d had so much fun together over the years. I’d learned so much. I’d had experiences I never could’ve dreamed of if it weren’t for Reid. Because he was a traveler, a late-night reader, and he had that mindfucky brain of his. He’d alwaysknownthings. Two days could pass, and the next time we saw each other, he’d read up on psychological warfare and signed us up for a seminar at a kink community in Chicago the following month.

Shit like that.

It was how we’d eventually become a part of a group of friends from all corners of the country, and we met up once a year down in Florida for some primal fun.