The Man I Love (The Fish Tales, #1)(29)
“Creativity,” Daisy said thoughtfully. “Mastery of a skill. Athleticism. And connection. Mostly connection.”
“We just want to be loved?”
“By women, no doubt. But maybe you’re looking for a male kindred spirit.”
“Maybe.” He and Will hadn’t sliced palms and mingled blood, but it had been a mindless decision to room up sophomore year, and to continue the living arrangements this year. They lived well together—neither was a slob, in fact, both gravitated toward order, liking things to be in their place. They never lacked for conversation. And as Daisy had said, each had skills the other was curious to master. Some of them quite useful.
“What’s with you and the pineapple juice?” Erik asked Will once, noting never than less than a gallon of it was in their fridge.
“Il donne le coup un bon go?t,” Will said, twisting the cap off a new bottle.
“English, please.”
Will did a high pour into two glasses, handed one over. “It makes your jiz taste good.”
“Jesus,” Erik muttered. But naturally he drank it, his interest piqued. Such a sexual tidbit coming from David could be immediately dismissed as a mind-f*ck. From Will, however, it required serious consideration. (“And it doesn’t exactly make it taste good,” Daisy said later. “It just makes it not taste.”)
On the less-useful but more refined front, Will was learning to play credible guitar under Erik’s tutelage. He was also a born-again tea drinker. Erik had taken two semesters of Taekwondo. They worked out together several times a week. Will hated to run, but he ran if Erik wanted to, and eventually hated it less. Will’s cross-training routine left Erik winded and wounded but he could tell he was getting stronger. And ripped. So he pushed through the sessions on the wave of Will’s motivation and the promise of Daisy running greedy hands over his body, purring about the little cut in his deltoid.
But analyzing Will’s friendship made Erik’s Y chromosome ache. Men didn’t pick apart and classify relationships the way girls did. At best, Erik could conclude he admired Will. Looked up to him. He wasn’t a father figure, but in Erik’s eyes, Will was definitely the alpha male. Which made Erik the beta. The behind-the-scenes man. Where he liked best to be. But now with James, a new buck was on the scene. Not exactly locking horns with Will for breeding rights—James was gay—but definitely shifting the status quo by sheer personality.
Erik shared this observation with David, who laughed in his face. “First of all, you’re the alpha male.”
“Me?”
“What, you think it’s only how tall you are or how much magnetism you have? It’s about pack mentality, Fish. You bring out the best in people.”
“Say what?”
“Haven’t you ever noticed everyone calms down around you?”
“No.”
“You’re human valium, dude.”
“Get outta here,” Erik said, giving David a shove to emphasize.
“I’m telling you, Fish. As long as you’re around, things stay chill. Your girlfriend’s the same way. She’s got the inner flame that never flickers. People love you. But maybe it’s better you don’t know it. Forget I said anything. You’re an *, Fish. Everyone hates your guts.”
Erik laughed but the reflection left him more than a little stunned. Both the content and the person it was coming from. He long resigned to David being one of his more difficult friends. They were excellent collaborators and had worked on several successful projects over the past three years. But if the best was in David, Erik didn’t think he had brought it out. David had always remained moody and unpredictable, a relentless tease and notorious practical joker. The genuine moments remained few and far between, and Erik took them at face value when they came.
“Second of all,” David said, “and I realize this will be hard for you to grasp, so listen closely. What James is doing with Will is called a crush.”
Erik stared at him, then closed his eyes. “I’m an idiot.”
“Yes, you are. And I got even more bad news for you, Fish, because Will’s eating it up.”
“Not this again,” Erik said. “He’s straight. Come on, he’s been with Lucky two years now.”
David grinned. “Well Lucky ain’t here, is she?”
She wasn’t. Lucky had been experiencing a life path shift, leaning away from physical therapy toward emergency medicine. She was taking a sabbatical and doing a modified EMT training program in Boston. Seeing if she had the stomach for it.
“Will’s definitely enjoying being a swinging bachelor again,” David said. “Regardless of which way the door is swinging. And he plays James like a violin. It’s fascinating in a twisted way. You watch.”
Erik watched and couldn’t deny it. Flying solo, Will had a little more swagger in him. He seemed augmented—taller, louder, funnier. And after the conversation with David, Erik quickly grasped James wasn’t competing with Will. He was adoring him. And Will was skillfully basking in it. He soaked up James’s infatuation yet he was careful not to reciprocate it. He never asked for James’s attention, he simply made his pleasure in it irresistible. He increased supply by decreasing demand. Erik couldn’t believe James didn’t get what was going on. Until he began to figure James out a little more.