Page 17 of Narrow Margins
“What’s that got to do with it?” I twist around to glare at him.
“Everything, dude. Gay men want to fuck, like all the time.” His smug smile is back and I want to hit him! Or is it kiss him?
“Oh, that’s crap! So, I’m asking you now. When did you last have a cock in your ass, or yours in someone else’s?” I watch his face blanch. Bingo!!
“That’s got fuck all to do with this. I know I’m gay. You just think you might be. There’s a huge difference. Believe me.” Corrie looks as pissed as I feel.
“Looks like I hit a nerve there?” It’s my turn to smirk.
“Fuck you!” He spits. “I’m going home, d’you want a ride?”
I really want to say no, to tell him to fuck off. But I don’t know where I am so I’m going to have accept. “I don’t really have much choice, do I?” I snarl.
“You’re the one who didn’t know where you were going.”
“Yeah? And I still have no idea where I am.” I hear the resignation in my voice, I’ve given all I can and it’s not enough. Well, fuck him! I don’t need this shit, all that modelling crap this morning. I’m going to get back into racing, I’ll call Manny. “I’ll take the ride back, I need to get my shit together.”
I ignore the strange look he gives me as we walk back to the car, close enough to touch yet so many miles apart. I hate this, but fuck it and fuck him; I don’t need this. I need a shit hot bike between my thighs and the roar of the crowds.
Fuck! Why does my mouth engage before my brain? He told me he wanted me. Or, at least, he said he’d never had anything so good. Dammit, neither had I. But I blew it by making a scene, by calling him out on his emotions.
We march back to the car and I feel the chasm widening between us. All the fun, the smiles and joking, have disappeared because I’m a dick. A stupid fucking prick! I want this guy. Damn, I want him so much. The first guy to see me: not the injured army vet, or the meal ticket out of here because of my family name, but the guy that bites his lip because of me. The guy whose eyes dilate when he sees my body. Shit! I am such an idiot!
I really want him to drive, my back and leg hurt like a bastard but I know he won’t. He has well and truly handed the reins back to me. Simply to prove it when we reach the car, Griff digs out the keys and offers them to me.
“Thanks, at least I know the way home from here.” I try and joke but Griff merely pulls his cell out of his pocket and scrolls through his messages.
“What? Oh, yeah, I guess.” He looks at me fleetingly but it speaks volumes. I’ve been dismissed.
I wince as I lower myself in the amazing bucket seats, I know he’s heard me. I know he’s too proud to comment but, as I twist around, the hiss of pain is too harsh to hide.
“Oh, for fucks sake, I’ll drive. C’mon, let me help you out.” Griff rolls his eyes; I don’t want to give in to him but it’s not safe for me to drive like this.
“Okay, thank you. I’m sorry to put you to this much trouble.” I mutter as he helps me to my feet.
“This isn’t your fault, Corrie, it’s mine. I should have got you home with the painkillers I promised you, you should have gone back to sleep. This is all on me.” Griff’s voice is so downbeat, I can’t bear to hear it any more. So, I stay silent.
As we navigate the streets, I notice Griff keeps to the speed limits. Then his phone rings, connecting to the Bluetooth in the car.
“Hey, Griff, what’s up, man? Your face not pretty enough?” The stranger’s words hit me in the chest like a punch.
“Yeah, something like that.” I can hear the strain in his voice but continue to look straight ahead, trying to afford him some privacy. “Look, get the feelers out, speak to the teams and see what they are prepared to offer.”
“What? Shit, really? This is awesome news; I’ve been hearing some grumblings from Casey’s team, there may be a spot there. Leave it with me, man.” The stranger ends the call and Griff concentrates on the road again. You can cut the atmosphere in the car with a knife, it’s so thick.
I give monosyllabic directions to get us back to the house rapidly and, although he doesn’t seem to speed, we get back quickly. The garage door opens as we approach and Griff pulls into the space easily.
“Thank you.” I whisper, not expecting a response.
“No problem, do you need any more help?”
My head snaps to him but there is no condescension; he’s not patronizing me, he genuinely offers help. I shake my head and he shrugs and gets out. I watch him close the door and then quickly lope to the kitchen entrance. I haven’t managed to find the strength to open the heavy door, shit! Please, don’t let him look back at me and see me struggle. Heaven’s gods are not on my side as his head turns.
In two leaps, he’s back and stands next to my now open door, “Why are you so damn stubborn?”
It’s not a question he’s asking me, or even himself; this is nothing but the grumblings of an upset man.
“I’m sorry.” I murmur as his arm hooks under my own to ease me up.