Running Parallel

Part 4 - Luke

Globs of thick, gelatinized grease fall to the bottom of the sink as I scrub a vent with a ball of steel wool. A river of amber runs down my arm from where some grease dripped on me when I was removing the vent. Beside me, Duncan sprays another vent with a bottle of degreaser.

Duncan's worked with my dad's company since he was eighteen, but I've known him since high school. We didn't talk much back in school, as he was three years older and we didn't run in the same circles at all. Once he joined my dad's crew he became my closest friend on the job. At twenty-two, he's the kind of guy you'd meet up with for a beer or ask to help you in a jam. Where Caleb is talkative and always on the move, Duncan is the balance, my go to when I need someone chill and levelheaded.

Man, after this morning, I desperately need some of his rational perspective right now.

"In his brother's bed, though?" Duncan says, his wide face screwed up in distaste.

"I don't need your judgment right now, man," I grumble, scrubbing extra hard at a particular spot in my frustration.

Luckily, we're alone, so I don't worry too much about being overheard. The staff had shut the place down early so we could clean the ventilation system, and with them gone, my dad on the roof, and the other two guys working outside, we're as alone as we can get.

"Right," Duncan drawls, shaking his head. He whistles lowly. "Well, what are you going to do?"

I sigh heavily. "I have no idea."

This morning, I woke up in an unfamiliar bed, lying on top of the comforter, pants undone and dried cum in my pubes. Through the throbbing pressure behind my eyes, a memory of last night played out. Caleb. Me. His moans, my fingers in his ass, my tongue in his mouth.

I know we fucked last night. So where'd he go? Why was the spot next to me cold, like he'd disappeared right after the deed was done?

I stumbled out of bed, squinting in the dim light caused by the sun slipping through a tiny slit where the curtain wasn't pulled all the way closed. Despite the lack of decent lighting, I'd surveyed the room, trying to unscramble my brain and figure out why the room I was in wasn't Caleb's. A double bed with rumpled plaid sheets, a bookcase with novels of every size. A sleek black computer tower sat under a desk, a wide curved monitor taking up most of the surface. Something plush brushed my feet as I stood, and a look down revealed a neon green rug, soft like a kitten's fur. On the nightstand, a green lamp sat next to a pair of bulky headphones.

I've seen those headphones before. Wrapped around a narrow neck. Dangling from long fingers. Sitting on a head of rich brown hair that curls around small ears.

I wasn't in Caleb's room.

I was in Connor's.

It'd taken everything in me to walk out of that room, my head still killing me, a foul taste in my mouth. Shame and guilt burned in my gut because I was an awful person. We invaded his bedroom, defiled his bed, and took over his 'dungeon' as Caleb calls it.

It's official, I've hit a new low.

"How'd Connor react?" Duncan asks, picking up a ball of steel wool and bringing me back to the present. He starts scrubbing the top of the vent. "You know, since you guys kicked him out of his room and fucked on his bed?"

I cringe at the reminder.

When I'd come downstairs this morning, I hadn't expected to walk into the kitchen and see Caleb's brother at the stove. I guess I'd assumed he'd gone to work last night, since he usually works night shift stocking shelves and bringing in deliveries at the grocery store across town. Whenever I'd crash at Caleb's, Connor always walked in around six in the morning and disappeared to his room. We wouldn't see him again for hours, only reemerging for lunch, then disappearing again.