Leaning Into Love (Leaning Into Stories Book 1) by Lane Hayes

Author:Lane Hayes [Hayes, Lane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: M/M, Fiction
Publisher: Self-publish
Published: 2017-02-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

Sundays were sacred. It was the one day of the week I allowed myself to do absolutely nothing. I could sleep in ’til noon and hang out in Pjs all afternoon if I felt like it. I never did, but knowing I could skip the gym if I wanted to made all the difference in the world. Needless to say, the incessant banging on my front door at nine a.m. the following morning pissed me off. I moved on instinct through my spacious two-storied Marina townhouse toward the sound of the racket. By the time I reached the door I was groggy but awake. And very annoyed.

I checked the peephole before flinging the door open and glaring at the asshole standing on my porch.

“Why are you here, Nick?”

“You make coffee. I brought bagels.” He held up a small paper bag and shook it, then shouldered his way by me, stopping to sniff at my hair. “You smell funny.”

“Fuck you,” I huffed halfheartedly as I followed him up the stairs to my great room and into the contemporary family-style kitchen.

We worked in silence. Nick toasted bagels, gathered a couple plates and set the cream cheese out while I took care of the coffee. I left it to brew then grabbed my cell and sat at one of the barstools at the island. When he didn’t speak right away, I glanced down at the display to check my emails. Conversation before caffeine was no fun anyway.

“I think you might be right and I don’t know what to do,” he blurted.

I stared at him for a moment then heaved a sigh and pointed toward the coffee machine. “Please,” I said in a pathetic sounding voice.

Nick nodded before turning to obey. I watched him through hooded eyelids as he assembled mugs, plates and knives and then poured coffee. I cradled the mug he handed me and studied him for clues while he busied himself with the bagels. His dark hair was disheveled, though I supposed mine was too. But the circles under his eyes, the worn Stanford sweatshirt, holey jeans and his meticulous application of cream cheese gave him away. Whatever was going through his head had kept him up all night.

I sipped my coffee and looked down at my phone when a new text from Zane flashed on the screen.

What r u doing today?

Nothing that requires excess energy, I typed quickly. Want to come over later?

Nick flopped into the white leather barstool next to me. I turned my cell face down and then swiveled to face my friend. It was disconcerting to see someone who normally oozed confidence look so deflated.

“What’s going on, Nick?”

“I couldn’t…you know.” He made a vague gesture that made no sense, but when he wouldn’t look at me, I understood.

“Really? You want to call off a wedding because you couldn’t get it up last night?”

“It sounds lame when you put it like that,” he grumbled.

“Sorry, but I’m not buying it. As far as I know, impotence has never been an issue for you.

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