The dingy apartment always hosted the worst mix of smells first thing in the morning. Stale smoke, trash, dirty dishes and training gear all joined in perfect disharmony. The only way to avoid it was to keep a window ajar at night, but that meant you had to sleep with one eye half-open or not sleep at all. The neighborhood wasn't all that bad, but we were close to ground level. It was a huge fail since I loved a nice view. That didn't always require a window, though.
The two other guys I shared the space with were nice enough, but I couldn't wait to find something better. Partly because it was uncomfortable bringing someone there, no matter how drunk that guy might be. They would see the mess in the morning and think that I had something to do with it. Unacceptable, of course. After flawless sex, dudes shouldn't have to wake up with a single doubt or any sliver of regret.
Chris hadn't been allowed to visit. Adam, on the other hand, knew everything as he had helped me move in, but he had vowed to never disclose details about this misery. He was good like that—ever the gentle-hearted friend.
I knew how lucky I'd been to have met Adam that day in the hospital. Without him, my stay in the US would have been totally wrecked. The bruises after the late night run-in with a crowd of idiots had faded long ago, but sometimes I still looked one too many times over my shoulder on my way through the city. But after hearing what happened to Adam, my experience of being on the receiving end of violence didn't count for much.
Rubbing my tired eyes, I thought about the ride back to my shared apartment last night. No matter how much I'd wanted to bring hot stuff into my bed, I'd skipped the car a few blocks away to prevent him from seeing the place. A grin spread across my lips as I recalled my promise. Tom would get his playlist, and I would make sure he listened to it. Chris might be right that the dude wouldn't appreciate my gesture, but that didn't matter. I could still give myself an A for effort.
I threw away the cover and sat up, my gaze already trained on the laptop across the room. Time to get to work. The faded reflection on the dark screen made me wince. My blond hair was a mess, standing in all directions at once. Also, perhaps it was time to stop forgetting about meals.
"Joachim, you up?" one of the guys yelled from outside. I couldn't hear who it was since they both sounded exactly the same to me. Maybe it was Rody. That guy liked to shout.
"Yeah, I'm up."
"We'll clean up later. Gotta run."
"Fine. See you later." I shook my head. The guys were cute, but they were full of shit. Their promises were next to useless. No doubt, they planned to visit the coffee shop down the street to ogle the twins who worked there. It was rather funny to see them try to score a phone number from the brunette darlings, but not as funny when they returned to wallow in self-pity, forgetting all about cleaning.
I sighed and planted my ass on the white plastic chair. It resembled a chair I remembered from back home, only, we'd had those outside, not inside. Either way, I had nothing better to replace it with, and style-wise nothing matched in my room so...whatever.
* * * *
One shower and three coffee cups later, I skimmed through the titles on the new list. Tom was unlikely to know any of the songs, but they meant something to me.
My stomach whined at the excess acid when I took one more gulp of coffee and checked my phone for the first time since last night. Damn, I'd slept through half the day and wasted most of the afternoon. Also, I had one missed call from Chris. I grinned to myself. Now I had a reason to call him without coming off as a creepy stalker if I mentioned Tom.
He picked up almost immediately. "Hi Joah."
"Hi sweet cheeks."
"Don't call me that."
"Don't call me Joah, then."
"Then what am I supposed to call you?"
I let out a chuckle. "Joachim."
"So, Joah, what's up?"
"Pretty much nothing. I'm done with my playlist though, so give me Tom's number." I bit a molested thumbnail—a habit that surfaced at the most inconvenient of times.
Chris laughed on the other end. "No can do, dude."
I pouted although I knew he couldn't see me. "Why not?"
"He'd gut me if he knew I'd given anyone his number."
I snorted. "Of course he wouldn't. Didn't strike me as the serial killer type."
"Met any serial killers recently?"
"Nope, I'm still alive." What a stupid question—it still made me smile, though.
"Then how would you know?"
"Shut up, sweet cheeks. Anyway, you had called. What's up?" If he didn't want to give me Tom's number, then I would make sure I saw him somehow. My mission wouldn't be complete otherwise.
"Nothing, just called because I was bored."
"Fine. Be that way. What are you doing tonight?"
Chris was never bored—he obviously tried to hide something. "Got this charity event to attend. The things I do for my boyfriend." He ended with a deep sigh. I didn't sigh, however. Sitting up straight in the chair, I scrolled through the playlist to stall for a second. I didn't want to come off as too needy. If Chris and his boyfriend were going somewhere, Tom would definitely be there.
I almost laughed at myself. It wasn't like I knew the guy or even wanted to know him much more beyond some instant gratification. Maybe I simply liked the idea of stalking someone for fun.
"I'll keep you company."
"You're not invited," he replied.
I could almost see him shake his head on the other side. "I'm totally invited."
"Are you?"
He was too easy to trick sometimes. "No, of course not, but I should be."
"Why? I mean, why would you want to go? These events are boring as hell."
"Well, that's because I was never invited."
"You are beyond conceited."
"You love it, sweet cheeks."
"I give up. I'll see what I can do."
I pumped my fist in the air with a huge grin on my face. "Pick me up. I'll be ready."
"Fine. But come over here instead, I'll lend you a suit or something. I have a few spare ones after last summer."
I took my sweet time getting ready, styling my hair to perfection and hiding the thin red scar on my temple with some make-up. I debated if I could get away with some subtle eyeliner, but other guys were sometimes iffy about that—especially the straight ones. Tom could be straight, but then again, it wouldn't hurt to nudge him a bit to see if he swung my way or wanted to experiment. He hadn't seemed too bothered at the gay club last night.
The ride back into the city from my neighborhood took forever, and the creepy cab driver had been staring at chicks rather than look out for cars. Men had no shame it seemed, at least not on this side of the Atlantic. The amount of cat calls I heard from idiots when chicks walked past was scary. That never happened in Stockholm.
The driver pulled up at the curb and fingered with the taximeter. Jeez, that was expensive. I dug through my pockets for some bills and smiled when I found that it was enough.
The driver gave me a nod. "Enjoy your day, sir."
I never knew how to react at that sir-bullshit. Another cultural difference that I had a hard time adapting to. No one said sir or anything equivalent in Sweden.
I plastered a smile on my face and exited the cab, watching out for speeding pedestrians. They could be ruthless if you got in their way, especially if they were in a hurry—which they always seemed to be. That was something this city actually had in common with Stockholm.
Weaving my way through the passing crowd, I called Chris since I kept forgetting the code to his door no matter how many times he had told me.
"I'm downstairs," I said when he picked up.
"Cool, I'll buzz you through."
I always got the impression that Chris was obscenely rich when I walked through the foyer. The place was classy as hell, but the money came from Dante, Chris' boyfriend who toured the world with his violin.
The red carpet was a bit too much, but somehow it fit with the rest of the sleek interior. It brought a bit of warmth to the otherwise angular and steel gray style. I called for the elevator and noted that someone had left a hand print on the stainless steel. A single mark of imperfection that made me feel slightly better. The doors slid apart, allowing entrance into a space that could compete with my bedroom. At least the soft light inside did wonders for my otherwise-too-pale complexion. I looked more than ready to butter up a certain hot chauffeur later on.
The elevator dropped me off seven floors later where Chris had already opened the door to the apartment at the far end. I peeked inside and caught him staring at himself in the hallway mirror. He was wearing some fancy shit. He even had a tie and looked suave for the first time since I'd met him back in April.
"You took your time. Got to get you into a suit." Chris checked his expensive-looking watch. "We're leaving in like thirty minutes or something."
"Already?" It wasn't even seven pm.
"Oh, didn't I tell you that it's a full-on dinner and everything?"
I groaned. Of course he hadn't. Maybe he had tricked me into this rather than the other way around. "Well, let's get started then. I have to look my best."
"I thought you always looked your best." Chris' eyes sparkled with mischief. He had a point. Sometimes I said the weirdest things to people—such as stating that whatever I wore was a fashion statement. That wasn't true, but it was fun to say.
"I'm sure I can pull off a suit."
"You're pulling it off?" Chris' grin widened.
"Maybe I am."
"For who?" He looked intrigued.
"Not telling you that."
"So, you're not hitting on Tom? You went all silent when you saw him in the car."
Okay, so maybe I was a bit too obvious. Perhaps it was a good idea to tone it down. I didn't want to make anything awkward after all. "Nah. Just looking forward to a dinner with plenty of men in suits."
"Cool, then you won't freak out when I say that he's here."
That shut me up good. "What?"
"He's in the kitchen, grumbling about not being able to drink any whiskey tonight." Chris nodded to his right. The kitchen was far too close for comfort. What if the guy had overheard our conversation?
"I need a drink." I regretted the words just as I voiced them. I did need a drink, but I had no intention of walking into that room before I was ready to face the delicious Tom.
"I have some beer if you want," Chris replied, taking the first steps toward the kitchen.
I grasped his shoulder but let go as soon as I realized how awkward that was. "No, I mean. Later. You said we're in a hurry."
"True. Let's see if you fit in my dark blue suit."
"Do I get a bow-tie?"
Chris's eyes widened as if he didn't believe me. "Do you want a bow-tie?"
"Of course I want a bow-tie. Who do you take me for?"
I felt Tom's presence even before he spoke out—a sublime tingling worked its way up my neck. "You boys at it again?" That voice. Oh how I wanted to hear him say my name and mean it.
Turning on my heel, I practically had to lock my jaw in place not to drop it to the floor. Tom was even more impressive when seen up close. The suit fit nicely on his frame, and the light blue collar of his shirt gave such a stunning contrast to his fabulous skin tone. If only I could make him flash me a smile—then he'd be the spitting image of perfection itself.
Chris nudged me.
"What?" How rude to interrupt my staring.
"Let's get you ready." Chris finished off with a chuckle. He totally knew what went on in my head, and it was probably a very bad thing. Hopefully he wouldn't make it a mission to embarrass me in front of Tom. If I were in his shoes, I probably would have, but Chris was a lot nicer than I ever were.
"Why are we bringing him along?" Tom asked before we could leave.
Chris grinned. "Because he's made you a playlist."
Tom scoffed and returned to the kitchen, disappearing from view. I took the first opportunity I had to slap Chris across his head. He simply laughed, and after a few seconds, I joined in. This wasn't the time to be upset about a single thing. I had a charity to attend with a hot as fuck chauffeur to win over.