Horror Lite by Anel Viz

Author:Anel Viz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay fantasy erotic romance
Publisher: Silver Publishing
Published: 2012-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

Bryce Olson is Pregnant

When Emmett throws a party, I go. I go because I would spend the evening alone if I didn't. Just about all my gay friends and the most militant of my gay-friendly straight friends go to Emmett's parties, and I have a lot of them. They may go for the same reason I do. I don't mean he throws bad parties. The food is good, the booze plentiful, and the company varied, good looking, and interesting—if you can hear them. If I have a lot of gay friends, Emmett has twice as many, and four times as many as his apartment can hold or ought to hold. I've gone to parties there as crowded as the Tokyo subway in rush hour. You may as well drink yourself sick at Emmett's because your headache won't go away for two days even if you aren't hung over. So, before I was in a long-term relationship, I usually left before one with somebody else who couldn't stand the noise another minute. We left to escape, not so we could have sex, although sometimes we did.

"A place where you try to have a conversation" describes Emmett's parties to a tee. You have to guess at what someone's said in order to respond. For example, that night I had no idea what Preston was telling me (assuming he wasn't just moving his lips and pretending to talk), yet we were standing close enough to rub groins. In fact, we were rubbing groins. We weren't standing that close in order to rub groins; neither of us was thinking about either of our groins rubbing against each other any more than I was thinking of Cody's butt, which he kept pressed against mine for the sole reason that we were standing back to back. (Cody is straight.) Unless that wasn't Cody standing behind me anymore.

What Preston and I were engaged in wasn't foreplay. No, it was a serious conversation about something or other, though it had finally dawned on me we might not be talking about the same thing although we had been talking for at least ten minutes. So I asked the only sensible question under the circumstances: "What?"

Preston must have read my lips, because his answer fit, more or less, and he must have yelled it at the top of his lungs because I actually heard him, though I doubt anyone else did.

"Bryce!"

I hadn't seen Bryce Olson in over a month. Nobody had. If Preston had seen, heard from or had news of Bryce, I wanted to hear about it. But you can't hear about something unless you can hear. I gestured that we should get away from the noise, and he nodded.

There were only two places we could go and be able to hear each other: the bedroom or the balcony. Either that or leave the party, but it wasn't even ten o'clock. If we went onto the balcony, we would freeze. It was fifteen degrees outside at most. What would happen if we went in the bedroom was less predictable.

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