like he had no idea where the hell he was.
Laurent nodded and methodically started pulling things out of his locker. He kept his head bowed and reminded Isaac of a kicked dog that was finally tired of trying to defend itself.
Jesus. What is with him?
While Laurent got dressed like he was submersed in pudding, Isaac tried wildly to think of what to do. He had to do something, and logically it was “call Misha,” but that probably wasn’t the best idea right then. Laurent—it was easier to think of him as Saint—would bolt. Isaac was sure of it. He had one chance to get through to the guy, and he had to take it.
“Look, Saint. You and I, we have to get some shit straight.” He winced. “Figured out. Because I’ve got my two best friends acting like junior high bullies, and I hate that, but I also think things don’t need to be like this. Come with me. Okay? I’m not going to hurt you.” It felt kind of stupid to say that, since Laurent was at least four inches taller than he was and far broader across the shoulders than Isaac. But he didn’t think he’d ever really been in physical danger from Laurent. He’d made it clear he didn’t want anyone to touch him.
Laurent followed him to the Jeep without a word, climbed in, and rested his head against the window. He showed no interest in where Isaac was taking him, didn’t say anything, and looked so exhausted that Isaac nearly fell asleep looking at him.
In the end Isaac took him back to Misha’s. Home.
When he first moved in, Misha had gone out of his way to make sure Isaac knew he was “welcome to have guests over.” But Isaac wasn’t sure if Misha meant “you can fuck in your room if you want” or if he meant “Murph and Hux can come over as long as they don’t spill shit or drink my good vodka.”
Murph and Hux came over sometimes, and maybe once they’d each had a sip of the good vodka, but Isaac had never brought anyone over for the purpose of hooking up. Now that his days of selling blowjobs for cash were far behind him, he was picky about his hook-ups, and while he had a Grindr account thanks to Murph, he didn’t use it all that often. But even when he did, he wouldn’t bring anyone back to Misha’s.
It felt like he had a home—a real home—not just a place to stay. And it had been so long since he’d had that, Isaac guarded it jealously, even though no one was trying to take it away from him.
But he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go, he had no idea where Laurent lived, and he was supposed to empty the dishwasher before dinner. So, home it was. But he remembered those barbed comments Laurent had made about their coaches, and they still made Isaac mad. One glance over at Laurent extinguished his anger completely, though. The thought of those welts on Laurent’s back made Isaac sick to his stomach.
Speaking of stomach… “You want me to stop anywhere for food?”
Laurent looked over at him, hollow-eyed. “Don’t do this.”
“Feed you?” Isaac cleared his throat. “I mean, get you food?”
“Don’t feel sorry for me.”
Man. The guy was just determined to be difficult at every step of the way, wasn’t he? “Don’t be a jackass and then have an epic breakdown in the locker room, and I won’t.”
“You really are a dick,” Laurent said, showing a little spirit.
“Yeah. Well. Takes one to know one.” Isaac found himself giving Laurent a tentative smile. “Can we stop and pretend that all this shit didn’t happen up until now?”
“No,” Laurent said flatly.
Isaac’s smile vanished, and he pulled onto the side of the road, ignored the irate honking of annoyed drivers, and slammed on the brakes. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m trying to help you, you know. I’m trying to get past this shit. Why can’t you do the same and just let it go?”
“I don’t want you to forget it. I don’t deserve that.”
“This isn’t about you,” Isaac said, and suddenly he had an idea. “You know what
Laurent nodded and methodically started pulling things out of his locker. He kept his head bowed and reminded Isaac of a kicked dog that was finally tired of trying to defend itself.
Jesus. What is with him?
While Laurent got dressed like he was submersed in pudding, Isaac tried wildly to think of what to do. He had to do something, and logically it was “call Misha,” but that probably wasn’t the best idea right then. Laurent—it was easier to think of him as Saint—would bolt. Isaac was sure of it. He had one chance to get through to the guy, and he had to take it.
“Look, Saint. You and I, we have to get some shit straight.” He winced. “Figured out. Because I’ve got my two best friends acting like junior high bullies, and I hate that, but I also think things don’t need to be like this. Come with me. Okay? I’m not going to hurt you.” It felt kind of stupid to say that, since Laurent was at least four inches taller than he was and far broader across the shoulders than Isaac. But he didn’t think he’d ever really been in physical danger from Laurent. He’d made it clear he didn’t want anyone to touch him.
Laurent followed him to the Jeep without a word, climbed in, and rested his head against the window. He showed no interest in where Isaac was taking him, didn’t say anything, and looked so exhausted that Isaac nearly fell asleep looking at him.
In the end Isaac took him back to Misha’s. Home.
When he first moved in, Misha had gone out of his way to make sure Isaac knew he was “welcome to have guests over.” But Isaac wasn’t sure if Misha meant “you can fuck in your room if you want” or if he meant “Murph and Hux can come over as long as they don’t spill shit or drink my good vodka.”
Murph and Hux came over sometimes, and maybe once they’d each had a sip of the good vodka, but Isaac had never brought anyone over for the purpose of hooking up. Now that his days of selling blowjobs for cash were far behind him, he was picky about his hook-ups, and while he had a Grindr account thanks to Murph, he didn’t use it all that often. But even when he did, he wouldn’t bring anyone back to Misha’s.
It felt like he had a home—a real home—not just a place to stay. And it had been so long since he’d had that, Isaac guarded it jealously, even though no one was trying to take it away from him.
But he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go, he had no idea where Laurent lived, and he was supposed to empty the dishwasher before dinner. So, home it was. But he remembered those barbed comments Laurent had made about their coaches, and they still made Isaac mad. One glance over at Laurent extinguished his anger completely, though. The thought of those welts on Laurent’s back made Isaac sick to his stomach.
Speaking of stomach… “You want me to stop anywhere for food?”
Laurent looked over at him, hollow-eyed. “Don’t do this.”
“Feed you?” Isaac cleared his throat. “I mean, get you food?”
“Don’t feel sorry for me.”
Man. The guy was just determined to be difficult at every step of the way, wasn’t he? “Don’t be a jackass and then have an epic breakdown in the locker room, and I won’t.”
“You really are a dick,” Laurent said, showing a little spirit.
“Yeah. Well. Takes one to know one.” Isaac found himself giving Laurent a tentative smile. “Can we stop and pretend that all this shit didn’t happen up until now?”
“No,” Laurent said flatly.
Isaac’s smile vanished, and he pulled onto the side of the road, ignored the irate honking of annoyed drivers, and slammed on the brakes. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m trying to help you, you know. I’m trying to get past this shit. Why can’t you do the same and just let it go?”
“I don’t want you to forget it. I don’t deserve that.”
“This isn’t about you,” Isaac said, and suddenly he had an idea. “You know what
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