Cam

I knew a twenty-one-year-old man named Flynn was dropping by at one to see the house. I’d arranged it myself just last night. I’d been waiting for him. So why, why was I surprised when I answered the door to find a handsome young man standing on my doorstep?

Or perhaps ‘stunned’ was the word I was looking for. It should’ve been illegal for him to wear tank tops when he had arms like that. Not body builder big, just perfectly shaped. The kind of arms you wanted to sink your teeth into. It was a bit like opening your door to find a bouquet of flowers or a hamper of your favourite snacks. Though the only time I’d ever had that experience was right after Justin’s sister had died, so scratch that. 

Flynn ruffled a hand through his already-tousled blond hair and gave me a lopsided smile, cranking his boyish charms to dangerous levels. “Hey. I’m here about the room…?”

“Hi, yes, please come in!” I said in a rush, hoping my distraction hadn’t been too obvious. Halfway through the door, I belatedly offered him my hand. “Cameron.”

“Cool, I’m Flynn,” he said as he shook it, eyes already darting past me to take in the room beyond.

He followed me further in, but before we could get far, the grandfather clock caught his attention and drew him to a stop. He was almost as tall as it was, but he had his hands shoved in his pockets, body leant away as though intimidated.

“I picked that up on Gumtree for three hundred dollars,” I told him. “We had to pay someone to get the clock working, but the wood and detailing were already in near-perfect condition, so I had no complaints.”

“Oh, awesome,” Flynn said, tilting his head as he examined the gold detailing on the clock face. “Do they normally cost, like, more than that?”

“My partner and I run an antique store. We could easily get a thousand for a piece like this.”

“Huh,” Flynn said, jamming his hands deeper into his pockets and leaning back further from the clock. “Oh, hey. Could I get a glass of water?”

“Yes, of course! Just a minute.”

I ducked across into the kitchen, doing my best not to think about how thirsty he must be with that light sheen of sweat around his neck and temples, the way it filled the air with a subtle hint of masculinity that hit on an almost subconscious level. Maybe it was time to start hitting the clubs or the hook up apps again. We’d set all that aside with Tammy in the house.

Though we were far from celebate. Justin and I had jerked each other off in the shower just this morning. There were certain things, however, that two men who shared too much of the same energy couldn’t do for one another. Switching just didn’t cut it. There were ways of being wanted that we couldn’t give one another.

Not that I fancied my chances of Mr-Boyish-Smiles-and-Muscles in the other room just happening to be an eager bottom, of course. Even if he was, that wasn’t what he was here for. I dispensed a few ice cubes into a glass then filled it up with cold water from the fridge before returning to him.

Flynn was just outside the kitchen doorway, as though he’d started to follow me, but he’d stopped to stare into a cabinet of green and yellow highlighter coloured glassware.

“Oh, hey, thanks,” he said as he took the glass from me. “Ooh, ice. Fancy.” He took a deep swallow, then nodded at the cabinet. “So, what are they in for?”

It took me a moment to get his joke, but when I did, I laughed. “You know, there’s more truth in that than you might think. That’s uranium glass. It’s slightly radioactive.”

Flynn took a deliberate step back. “So that’s why it’s in jail?”

I laughed again. “Well, maybe. I wouldn’t eat off it, but otherwise, it’s not that dangerous. Mostly they’re in there so that we can do this.” I flicked a switch on the side of the cabinet, turning on the UV lights inside. The glassware lit up with an eerie neon glow, intensifying the colours within.

“Huh!” Flynn exclaimed, his body moving as though caught between leaning away and bending closer to get a better look.

“Pretty cool, huh?” I asked. 

He nodded.

His innocent curiosity was charming. It made me want to show him things just to see the light in his eyes. Plenty of people in my life, Justin included, could appreciate antiques as antiques, and I loved that, but there was something fun about watching someone admire these things for their simpler merits. It reminded me of being a kid, of the way my grandma’s house had felt so full of mystery and wonder. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed all the deeper, more adult parts of it now, but the head full of facts and numbers I had meant there was no going back for me. 

“Would you like the full tour?” I offered.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, flashing me another one of his lopsided smiles.

I showed him the kitchen first, and he refilled his glass, apparently enamoured with the novelty of readily-available ice water. He chugged it down and we headed back out into the living room.

His gaze paused on every piece of art on the walls, the vase and the dried flowers arranged in it, the decorative carved wooden bowl on the coffee table. Most people only did that when they were grasping for opportunities to say something that would make them seem smart or cultured, but the most Flynn had to offer was a suppressed snort of amusement when he suddenly realised the painting he’d been tilting his head at was an abstract image two men twined together.

Next, I took him to the room we were renting. With each person we brought through, that became a little more what it was. Just a room that might soon belong to any one of them. I needed someone else to put their fingerprints on it, to make it their own, or else it would always be haunted. It would always be Tammy’s room. 

“Nice,” Flynn commented as he strode into the room, hands planted on his hips as he took in the furnishings. “Do the sheets come with the room?”

It was only then that it struck me that we’d never switched out the sheets. That was why we needed someone else in here. We could call it a guest room all we wanted, but I’d washed Tammy’s sheets and put them right back on the bed. I hadn’t even thought to switch the floral sheets out for something more masculine despite knowing only men had been interested in the room.

“You’d be welcome to use your own,” I told him.

Flynn acknowledged that with a tilt of his head as he ran his fingers over the bedframe. “This antique, too?”

“Oh, no,” I said. “Maybe vintage—barely. Justin likes to find pieces second hand, then sand them down and stain them to match the rest of the furniture.”

“Damn, that’s pretty cool.” Flynn said. “My grandma used to have all this old shit. Like, a dining room table and everything, even though we never ate there and it was kinda shoved in a corner ‘cause there wasn’t enough room. I got paint on it and rubbed a hole in the—uh, like the varnish?—trying to get it off. She didn’t notice, though, so it was alright.”

“We like to say that everything is fixable.”

He flashed me a grin. “Well, tables, anyway. My grandma had Alzheimer’s and turns out they can’t fix that one.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that. Were you close?”

“I was living with her, but I dunno, I guess not,” he said, ducking in close against the window so that he could peer out into the garden. “Can I see outside? I’ve been working at a nursery this year and I’m kinda into plants and shit now.”

“Sure, of course,” I said, leading the way out of the room. “What’s it like working in a nursery?”

“Real chill, y’know? Maybe it’s just the area, but we never get any trouble out there. Everyone’s pretty nice. Plus my boss is a great guy. But I guess none of that’s about it being a nursery, right? The nursery bit’s, like, I dunno. Keeps me busy, keeps me active. I like that.”

I couldn’t help sweeping my eyes over his body, but I did manage to hold myself back from making a comment about how I could very much see that he liked to keep active. 

“I like a bit of that myself,” I said as I pushed open the back door. “Though I threw my back out a couple of weeks ago, so right now I’m supposed to be taking it easy on the being active part.”

“Ah, that sucks.”

The garden wasn’t much to look at compared to the house. Mown grass, a few big gumtrees. The main feature was a large wooden shed in the far corner, Justin’s workshop. I could hear the buzz of the orbital sander from within.

I jabbed a thumb towards the shed. “I’m just going to go see if Justin wants to come out and say hey.”

“Cool, yeah,” Flynn said, bending his neck all the way back to stare up into the branches of the biggest tree.

I left him to it and headed for the shed. Justin’s back was to the door, his body bent over the table he was working on as he ran the sander over its surface, removing old finish and smoothing away any imperfections. Many times, I’d sat and watched him work for hours as he prepared a piece. It always felt more right, more romantic, than any of our attempts at actual dates. The smell of wood polish turned me on.

Justin rounded the table to reach the other side and spotted me watching him. He switched the sander off and tugged off his ear protectors. A lift of his eyebrows asked me what I wanted.

“Got another one here for you to meet,” I said.

I saw him take a breath in, but he managed to suppress his sigh. “I’m sure whoever you pick will be fine.”

“I’m sure whoever we pick will be,” I said. “Come on.”

Justin headed for the window instead of the door and peered out. He glanced back at me, eyebrows lifting. “Really?”

I wrapped my arms around him and tucked my chin over his shoulder so that I could follow his gaze. Flynn had found the gymnastics rings Justin had hung from one of the trees for Tammy and was pulling his weight up on them, his undersized tank top rising up to show a strip of firm stomach.

“What?” I asked.

“You know what.”

“I invited everyone who sent me a message to come take a look at the place. This guy didn’t even have a picture on his profile!”

“Uh huh,” Justin said. “What did the ad say, exactly?”

“Seeking: hot twink,” I said against his ear. “You don’t think that could have anything to do with it, do you?”

Justin let out a scoff, the edge of a laugh in it giving up the game. He wasn’t actually annoyed.

“I didn’t say much in the ad about what we were looking for. Someone tidy, a non-smoker. Nobody I like actually meets any kind of definition I could come up with of the perfect person, so I figured I wouldn’t bother. We’ll know when we meet them.”

Justin wrapped my arms around his stomach and held me against him. “They’ve all been men so far.”

“Yeah. Turns out most women aren’t too keen on moving in with two guys they don’t know. Strange, that.”

“You didn’t put that we were gay in the ad?”

“I didn’t say anything about that in the ad, and it’s technically not true.”

It took Justin a moment to puzzle that one out, and when he did, he scoffed. “Yeah, okay. You’re a non-practising bisexual, technically. It barely counts.”

“Tell that to my sister’s friends. They were not amused when they found out the guy they’d been letting join in with their sleepovers wasn’t actually gay, despite the boyfriend.”

A laugh rumbled out of Justin. 

I rubbed my face against the stubble on the side of his jaw. “Come meet him. I think you’ll like him.”