The roar of Eric Dane's 1978 Ford Mustang always managed to make the alarms of the delicate imported sports cars in the parking lot scream in unison. He held the steering wheel with one hand, but his mind couldn't help but drift back to that guy named Shawn in the coffee shop.
That Shawn guy was actually pretty interesting. Thinking of the scene from earlier, the corners of Eric Dane's mouth couldn't help but lift slightly.
He shook his head, pulling his thoughts back to the present. He had to go pick up his girlfriend, Madison.
He parked the car outside the gym, where Madison was walking out, laughing and talking with a few of her cheerleaders. When she saw his car, she waved goodbye to her friends and jogged over, pulling open the passenger-side door.
"Hey," she said as she got in, leaning over to plant a light kiss on Eric's cheek.
"How was practice today?" Eric asked with a smile as he started the car.
"It was okay, same as always," he remembered the interesting event of the day and couldn't resist sharing, "but I ran into a weird guy at the coffee shop today. Super clumsy, almost spilled a whole cup of coffee on me."
"Oh, really?" Madison replied distractedly, fiddling with her nails. "Oh, by the way, honey, how's your mom doing? That pottery exhibition she mentioned last time, has she set a date for it?"
Eric's story was cut off. He paused for a moment, but still answered, "Probably not yet, she's been busy with the studio. Our team is up against the Wildcats next week, and coach today..."
"So is she free this weekend?" Madison proposed enthusiastically, seeming not to have heard the last half of his sentence at all. "I heard a great new restaurant opened downtown. Why don't we ask her to go with us this weekend? You can drive us."
Eric's words were blocked once again. He looked at Madison. Her face was full of sincere anticipation, but that anticipation seemed to be directed solely at the three-person date with his mother. He wanted to talk about his team, about the interesting idiot he'd met today, but Madison was already planning their weekend itinerary.
"...Sure, I'll ask her," Eric said as he pulled up in front of her dorm building.
"Great! You have to convince her!" Madison looked genuinely happy. "I'll head up then, see you tomorrow!" She gave him another hug, then quickly opened the car door.
"See you tomorrow."
Watching Madison disappear into the dormitory, Eric leaned back against his seat and sighed.
By the time he got back to his family's large, empty villa, it was late. His family was already asleep, and the whole house was so quiet that the only sound was his own footsteps. Eric took a shower and returned to his room, a trail of steam behind him, trying to wash away the day's fatigue.
He lay on the wide bed, surrounded by silence, and the restlessness of a young man's body began to emerge in the darkness. His relationship with Madison was as pure as a blank sheet of paper, limited to hugs and cheek kisses at most, so he had long grown accustomed to taking care of his physical needs himself.
He closed his eyes and deliberately slowed his breathing, but the rise and fall of his chest betrayed him. The silence of the night acted as an amplifier, making every stir of restlessness in his body distinct. The bedsheets were silky and cool, clinging to his still-warm skin from the shower, provoking a series of fine tremors. That familiar, unplaceable energy surged like an undercurrent beneath his muscles.
His hand, the same hand that could throw a game-winning pass with precision, now moved with some hesitation, slowly sliding down the line of his firm abs. The light calluses left from training brushed against his sensitive skin, bringing a tingling itch. He bit his lower lip, suppressing a sigh that threatened to escape. Blood rushed through his veins, as if driven by some force, stubbornly gathering in one part of his body. It was scalding, hard, and filled with a primitive tension eager for release.
He tried to picture Madison in his mind—her long blonde hair, the curve of her lips when she smiled. But the image was blurry, like looking through a sheet of frosted glass. He could only feel the vines of desire tightening around him, strangling his reason inch by inch. He imagined a pair of soft hands, a warm body, a suppressed gasp...
Just as the pleasure was about to break through its peak, the blurry face, without any warning, became unmistakably and extremely clearly Shawn's comical, panicked face.
Those wide eyes, tinged with bewilderment; the stiff body when he had held him by the waist in the coffee shop; and those flushed cheeks... every detail was perfectly clear, branded in his mind like a high-definition photograph.
Eric's eyes flew open, as if doused with a bucket of ice water. The heat in his body instantly receded, leaving only a horrified chill. All desire vanished in that moment, replaced by a wave of nausea and confusion.
"What the hell?" he cursed under his breath at the ceiling, his heart pounding erratically.
Why would he think of that clumsy guy at a time like this? That man!
Eric rolled over in frustration, covering his eyes with his arm, forcing himself to think about football plays. But he couldn't shake the feeling that the thought just now... hadn't seemed like his own. It was as if someone had quietly swapped out a slide in his brain.