out of the truck and waved to the security guard to let him know all was good. He turned back to Jesse. “You can look at it up close, if you want.”
Jesse sprang from his truck and followed Evan to the driver’s side of the Ferrari. Evan disarmed the car alarm and opened the door for him. As Jesse bent forward at the waist to peer inside, Evan battled back the compulsion to slide his fingers around the perfect curve of Jesse’s ass.
Jesse gazed at the interior, the bucket seats so low they seemed only inches from the ground, the black dash accented with brushed aluminum, same as the knobs and dials for the CD player, other controls, and the brake and throttle. His eyes drifted up to the black leather steering wheel with controls for the car at Evan’s fingertips and the yellow Ferrari logo featuring the black prancing stallion in the center.
He straightened and turned toward Evan. “How fast does it go?”
“It tops out at around two hundred or so.”
“Have you ever had it up that fast?”
“How do you think I know where it cuts off?” Evan moved around Jesse and got in. The car roared to life at his command, and he looked up at him. “I hope you’ll be able to keep up. I tend to be a bit of a speed demon, but I’ll try to go slow with you.”
Uncertain if Evan was referring to driving or something else, Jesse’s mind went blank for a response.
Jesse’s sudden speechlessness brought Evan’s earlier doubts to the surface once again. “That is, if you still feel like coming over.”
Jesse presented him with his brightest smile. “Of course I do. It’s not even close to my bedtime.”
“Then follow me,” Evan said, closing the car door.
Jesse walked back to his truck. He waited for Evan to pull out of the parking space, then taking a deep breath, hit the throttle to follow him.
C
HAPTER
S
IX
His eyes on the taillights of the black 612 ahead, Jesse didn’t remember much of the drive to Evanston, his mind was occupied with the single thought that he was going to Evan Arden’s home. He had only been up to Evanston a couple times before, once when Brandon scored football tickets to see the Boilermakers versus the Wildcats, and another time when he took a campus tour of Northwestern, but he liked the town, and now with the warm early May weather, the trees lining the streets burst with green blossoms.
He glanced at his cell phone on the passenger seat. He should call Brandon. He always called him after a show and if he didn’t, then Brandon would start ringing him like a spaz. He was surprised Brandon hadn’t called already, then remembered he was going to make his move that night on a stagehand he’d been eyeballing. He could bet as soon as Brandon finished with him, his phone would be lighting up.
But what would he tell him? He couldn’t lie and tell him he was home. For one thing, his and Brandon’s relationship didn’t involve such deceit. For another, he couldn’t lie to save his life. If he admitted he had met someone and was going to his house, Brandon would demand to know who, and if he told him, he’d never believe him. That really seemed the only way to go, though. If he was lucky he could just leave a message.
Jesse grabbed his cell phone and hit the number two to speed dial Brandon’s cell, muttering to himself, “Don’t pick up. Please be pounding Joe Stagehand through your bed. Don’t pick—”
“Hey, this is Brandon. You missed me, sorry ‘bout your luck. But don’t be too sad. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you eventually.”
Jesse breathed a sigh of relief and lit into his message. “Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to let you know my gig’s over. Mike and Ben quit, I’ll fill you in on that later. I’m not home right now because, you’re seriously not going to believe this but, Evan Arden was at my show and he invited me over to his house, so that’s where I’m going. I’ll call you when I get home. Later.”
Jesse hung up, chuckling to himself.
Jesse sprang from his truck and followed Evan to the driver’s side of the Ferrari. Evan disarmed the car alarm and opened the door for him. As Jesse bent forward at the waist to peer inside, Evan battled back the compulsion to slide his fingers around the perfect curve of Jesse’s ass.
Jesse gazed at the interior, the bucket seats so low they seemed only inches from the ground, the black dash accented with brushed aluminum, same as the knobs and dials for the CD player, other controls, and the brake and throttle. His eyes drifted up to the black leather steering wheel with controls for the car at Evan’s fingertips and the yellow Ferrari logo featuring the black prancing stallion in the center.
He straightened and turned toward Evan. “How fast does it go?”
“It tops out at around two hundred or so.”
“Have you ever had it up that fast?”
“How do you think I know where it cuts off?” Evan moved around Jesse and got in. The car roared to life at his command, and he looked up at him. “I hope you’ll be able to keep up. I tend to be a bit of a speed demon, but I’ll try to go slow with you.”
Uncertain if Evan was referring to driving or something else, Jesse’s mind went blank for a response.
Jesse’s sudden speechlessness brought Evan’s earlier doubts to the surface once again. “That is, if you still feel like coming over.”
Jesse presented him with his brightest smile. “Of course I do. It’s not even close to my bedtime.”
“Then follow me,” Evan said, closing the car door.
Jesse walked back to his truck. He waited for Evan to pull out of the parking space, then taking a deep breath, hit the throttle to follow him.
C
HAPTER
S
IX
His eyes on the taillights of the black 612 ahead, Jesse didn’t remember much of the drive to Evanston, his mind was occupied with the single thought that he was going to Evan Arden’s home. He had only been up to Evanston a couple times before, once when Brandon scored football tickets to see the Boilermakers versus the Wildcats, and another time when he took a campus tour of Northwestern, but he liked the town, and now with the warm early May weather, the trees lining the streets burst with green blossoms.
He glanced at his cell phone on the passenger seat. He should call Brandon. He always called him after a show and if he didn’t, then Brandon would start ringing him like a spaz. He was surprised Brandon hadn’t called already, then remembered he was going to make his move that night on a stagehand he’d been eyeballing. He could bet as soon as Brandon finished with him, his phone would be lighting up.
But what would he tell him? He couldn’t lie and tell him he was home. For one thing, his and Brandon’s relationship didn’t involve such deceit. For another, he couldn’t lie to save his life. If he admitted he had met someone and was going to his house, Brandon would demand to know who, and if he told him, he’d never believe him. That really seemed the only way to go, though. If he was lucky he could just leave a message.
Jesse grabbed his cell phone and hit the number two to speed dial Brandon’s cell, muttering to himself, “Don’t pick up. Please be pounding Joe Stagehand through your bed. Don’t pick—”
“Hey, this is Brandon. You missed me, sorry ‘bout your luck. But don’t be too sad. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you eventually.”
Jesse breathed a sigh of relief and lit into his message. “Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to let you know my gig’s over. Mike and Ben quit, I’ll fill you in on that later. I’m not home right now because, you’re seriously not going to believe this but, Evan Arden was at my show and he invited me over to his house, so that’s where I’m going. I’ll call you when I get home. Later.”
Jesse hung up, chuckling to himself.
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