Page 99 of Toy Boy

“Why don’t you just use your key and wait for me inside instead of loitering out here.”

“I’m not loitering.”

I raise an eyebrow as I open the gate, Josh following me up the short path that leads to the front door. “What are you doing here, Josh?”

“I wanted to see how you were.”

“I’m fine.” I open the front door and he follows me inside. “Why are you really here?”

“I stopped by Tim’s party, after my shift, and Laney said you’d already left.”

I drop my bag onto the couch and head through the living room and into the kitchen. “Is that all she said?”

Of course it wasn’t.

“Well, she said something about some altercation between you and Xander, that probably involved Scott, too, so…”

“Is Natalie working tonight?”

He frowns. “No. She’s at home.”

“Shouldn’t you be there, too? At home? With your fiancée?”

“I told you Scott coming back here was going to cause trouble…”

“Who said he’s caused trouble? Laney? She didn’t see what went on, she has no idea what happened.”

“So, somethingdidhappen then?”

I open the fridge, take out a bottle of wine, and pour myself a glass. I don’t offer Josh one, he’s driving. And offering refreshments gives him the idea that I’m inviting him to stay when that’s the last thing I want.

“It’s a long story, Josh. And not one I want to talk about right now, I’ve done enough of that tonight.”

“This story, does it involve Scott?”

“Yes. It does.”

He raises both eyebrows, but if he’s waiting for me to elaborate he’ll be waiting a long time.

“What about you and Xander?”

“What about us?” I take a sip of wine and reach for a loaf of bread sitting on the counter. I’m suddenly craving a slice of toast and thick butter.

“Well, Laney said it looked like you’d had some kind of argument.”

“We haven’t had an argument.” I pop two slices of bread into the toaster and take another sip of wine. “It’s complicated, but it isn’t anything serious. I promise. It’s something that will sort itself out in time, it’s nothing to worry about.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but I’m too tired to spend any more time placating him.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Stop fussing, Josh. I mean it. I’m fine, and I’ll be a whole lot better when you’ve gone and I can settle down in front of the TV with what’s left of this bottle of wine and a plate of toast. Go on. Go. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

“Everything was good, beforehecame back.”

“Everything was different, yes. It was.”

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, he appears in no hurry to leave. And my toast is almost done.