Coming Alive With You by Rivers Penelope

Author:Rivers, Penelope [Rivers, Penelope]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Amira Press
Published: 2012-02-08T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

It had been awkward between them ever since that day. Toyo sat in front of him, showing him the screen, but they were not alone. In fact, they never were anymore. Even now, Lisa and the graphic artist stood behind them, talking. Farrell did his best to focus on them and not the smell of Toyo’s clothing. Even now, it was intoxicating, more so than any drug.

When Farrell pushed his hand against Toyo’s shoulder to get a closer look, Toyo hissed as if he was poisoned and shoved Farrell back. The others didn’t notice, but hurt coiled in his stomach like an angry snake. He began to hate Toyo because he liked him so much. Every time that Toyo shoved him away, every time that he made Farrell feel unwanted, it was ten times worse than with anyone else because it was Toyo doing the hating. Standing with his arms crossed was all that he could do to keep from grabbing Toyo and shaking him until his teeth clacked together.

After the meeting was over, Lisa said, “Why don’t you come with us to get a drink, Farrell? It will be a lot of fun.”

Farrell took one frightened glance at Toyo, who was hanging back, and shook his head. If he didn’t go, then Toyo could. Farrell had to take care of Ty, anyway. That was the only way that he could get out of this ridiculous rut that he was in. He decided no more Charles, no more Allen. He didn’t need sex to beat this bug.

“Ah,” Lisa said, “come on.”

“No, I really don’t want to,” Farrell said, turning around and walking away to grab his things. Though he was aware that he had been rude, he didn’t care. He wanted to get away from Toyo, and he had a feeling that Toyo wanted to get away from him.

Just as he was about to leave completely, the graphic artist scurried over and grabbed his arm. The graphic artist’s name was Tim—or maybe it was Ted. Farrell did not know him well enough to say for sure. Farrell turned around and opened his mouth to say something, but Tim cut him off and whispered, “I thought that I should warn you about something. Tomorrow, we’re going to have a special client coming. He’s been here twice before.”

“A special client?” Farrell asked, eyebrow raised. “But to everybody else but Candace, I’m just the secretary. Why tell me?”

“Because he’s—well—he’s—” Tim looked both ways to make sure that nobody was looking at him. Farrell couldn’t help himself. He was curious, so he leaned closer. “He hits on a few of the guys when he gets here. It’s really uncomfortable, actually. From what the girls say, you’re a pretty good-looking guy. I wanted to make sure that you were warned to stay away from him, or else . . .”

Though Farrell knew that this jibe wasn’t aimed at him, he felt a sting of fear and pain. He ripped his arm away from Tim before he could stop himself and stumbled backward.

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