Friends With Benefits: A Troyler Story

Chapter Fourteen: The Invitation

You were up late last night, you must be exhausted, I didn’t say.

I also didn’t mention that I was still smarting a bit from yesterday and that a large part of me was relishing the thought of the blankness that running always afforded me, a break from stressful thoughts. A little time away from Troye’s delectable body and his shiver-inducing voice would allow me to clear my head just enough to get a little perspective and hopefully survive the next week or, more accurately, survive the weeks after that.

I got nothing more than a muffled huff in response and as I gazed down at Troye’s t-shirt covered back, at the appealing dip between his shoulder blades, I saw his breathing start to even out again. I tugged the duvet blankets away from his face slightly so he’d be able to breathe properly, then quietly eased my way out of the room and the apartment. 

The minute the cool morning air hit my face, I felt better than I had since yesterday’s emotional events. I took a deep breath and started off around the corner at a brisk walk, working up to a jog as I made my way down another block. My brow furrowed slightly as I realized that the usual numbing blankness of mind that I usually associated with running seemed to be taking a long time to kick in. My thoughts were still swirling with Troye, Troye, Troye: The sound of his low chuckle in my ear, his brilliant, boyish smile and sparkling, unfairly huge blue eyes, his flushed face and open mouth as I opened him up with my fingers . . .

I shook my head violently and sped up, my feed pounding hard against the pavement and my breath coming in short, sharp bursts as I tried to outrun the haunting presence of the boy who was currently asleep in my bed, all pliant and sleep-warm and clingy . . . why had I gotten out of bed again?

But as I ran faster and farther other memories joined those of Troye’s pretty eyes and the smiles that seemed like they were saved just for me. Despite my best efforts to deter them, I remembered his little shiver at the sound of Stephen’s laugh on the phone, the muffled conversation that I at once strained to hear and desperately tried to block out as it drifted through my bedroom wall, the fondness in his eyes when he talked about how that other man made him feel . . .

I was now almost completely out of breath and had reached the park that usually marked the point where I would turn around, so I slowed to a jog and then a walk, my legs wobbly and weak from pushing myself too hard too fast after days of inactivity. I was resting my hands on my knees, standing alone in the park and trying to regain my breath and muster up some energy for the way home when I heard a hoarse, friendly voice call my name.

I brought my head up and immediately smiled and rolled my eyes when I saw Sawyer running towards me, barely breaking a sweat and looking altogether too graceful. It wasn’t unusual for me to see Sawyer out for a run at the same time as I was. He and Joey lived fairly near by, though he ran a lot farther to get here than I did. He had a big grin on his face at meeting me unexpectedly and when he reached me he clapped me on the back, causing me to cough since I was still breathing hard.

“Hey man! Are you ok?” he asked, raising a concerned eyebrow at my ragged breathing and what the very attractive shade of tomato red I was sure my face must have been about now.

I waved him off.

“Yeah, yeah, just haven’t been out in a few days and pushed myself too hard. How are you?”

“Good, good. Listen, Connor tells me Troye is in town!”

I almost rolled my eyes again. “Clearing my head” with a nice run was clearly just not in the cards for today. I finally managed to get Troye out of my brain for two minutes, when someone else immediately brought him up again.

“Yeah, he is, he’ll be here for a bit over a week still,” I said, trying to make my voice sound cheerful, but casual, resigned to talking about Troye but uncomfortably aware that for some reason I was reluctant to inform Sawyer of the fact that Troye was staying with me while he was here. That he was currently curled up in my bed, wrapped in my blankets, holding on to my pillow like a vice. With that mental image in mind, I was suddenly impatient to finish up my conversation with Sawyer, despite normally enjoying his company. If I couldn’t outrun Troye, then I might as well just return to our little nest and never leave until he did.