Mitch drove me back to my apartment in his tiny little sports car Sunday evening after a weekend of sex and… stuff. I was starving because food had definitely been a minor priority and I got tremendously timid around Mitch. I didn’t want to complain because I was petrified that he would realize that I’m just an inexperienced loser that is incapable of ever getting a relationship right. It was a battle just to get my own parents to tell me that they cared about me.

It’s not that they don’t, they just aren’t very open with their emotions.

In my apartment, I scavenged through my cupboards and found a packet of ramen noodles, a profusion of baking supplies, and a loaf of bread that looked ready to sprout legs. Opting to forego food for the nth time that weekend, I once again sat down in front of my computer and stared at the screen for a good half hour before I finally figured out that I was not going to get any of my novel worked on while my body was eating itself.

So I went back out and walked to the convenience store on the corner that sold a case full of fresh deli items everyday. They were probably all stale by now, but I was in desperate need of sustenance.

I grabbed a turkey and cheese sandwich from the case, a bottle of SoBe green tea, and a bag of cool ranch Doritos before I went up to the counter. I looked over the magazine rack before my mouth dropped open.

There, right on the front page of several tabloids, were pictures of Mitch and I eating at the restaurant Friday night. It said things like “False Hatred” and “Marketing Scam” in big letters. My lower lip quivered.

“Aren’t you that writer guy?” asked the girl behind the counter.

I nodded numbly. She rang me up and bagged up my stuff. I dropped ten dollars on the counter and left in a daze.

I thought only celebrities and pop stars got put on tabloid covers. It wasn’t even that controversial, was it? Weren’t celebrities more interesting than me having dinner with an NFL quarterback? How many people had seen those magazines?

I tried to blink the tears out of my eyes, but it didn’t work very well and I had to run to my apartment and slam the door shut so my neighbors wouldn’t see me collapse to the floor in sobs.

It wasn’t that big of a deal, I kept trying to tell myself. So what if they were mocking me and calling me a hack? I knew it wasn’t true. That was what mattered.

I always tried so hard to be taken seriously. I always worked so much to do my best. Wasn’t that worth anything?

I wanted someone there to hold me, but I couldn’t figure out if I wanted Jeff, Mitch or my mom. Mitch was the cause of all of this. If I hadn’t had to interview that jerk, then none of this would have happened and I could live my life without being on TV or in tabloids or getting recognized by cashiers at convenience stores.

But he was so good to me….

Sex should not be the basis of a relationship. I knew that, but he made me feel so amazing… No one had ever treated me the way Mitch had before, like I was something to be… treasured. Mitch made me feel like more than a disappointment son, a worthless brother, a number on an employment roster. He had held me all night and told me I was gorgeous and actually made me believe it a little.

There was a knock on my door and I ignored it, even though it rattled my head that rested against the door. The knocking persisted. I grunted.

The door flew open, throwing me across the floor.

“Ow,” I grunted.

“Should have opened the door when I knocked,” Jeff said before closing the door behind him. He came over and sat on the floor with me then pulled me into his arms, “Ok, you can cry like a little girl now.”

And I did.

XxXxX

Monday was one of those days. My mug broke, the coffee burned my hand, my papers all went flying all over the floor, I forgot about a meeting, I fell and squashed my lunch with my body before I got the chance to sit and eat it, and I had 27 e-mails from my mother about how shocked she was, how disappointed my dad is, how many of the ladies at work won’t stop talking about everything, and all of the wonderful things her other children have done recently.

I definitely had a case of the Mondays and when 5 o’clock rolled around and it was time for me to go home, it was a murderous glare for anyone who dared to get between me and my car.

When I got home, I changed out of my coffee-grease-ketchup-and mayo smeared shirt and pushed the button on my answering machine. Anything stared with “Tad, it’s your mother-,” was immediately deleted. You can only take so much. Sure, she gave life to me, but she gave life to other people she can bother for a while.

“Hey, Tad… It’s me,” My knees went weak at the sound of Mitch’s voice, “Practice is over at about 4:30, so I’m going to go home and shower, then I figured I would come over and we could do something. So I’m going to show up when I feel like it and if you’re not there, I’ll call you some more. Ok, bye.”

He’s so romantic. After changing out of my food-soiled clothing, I sat down at my kitchen table with a pad of paper and started making up my shopping list. I was completely out of food and starving considering my lack of food for the past several days. I’d been to upset at lunch over wearing my lunch that I wasn’t able to eat anything.

So I went to the grocery and grabbed what I needed, careful to avoid eye contact with anyone lest they recognize me. I didn’t dare look at the tabloids when I went to check-out either. There was no point in getting upset again over something that mattered so little. I would be forgotten in a week and everything would be fine.

What if I would be forgotten in a week? What if Mitch realizes I’m not worth the effort and drops me in a couple of days?

I don’t think I would be able to get back up this time….

These thoughts dominated the majority of my cranial capacity during my walk from the grocery back to my apartment. I knew if I let this train continue, I would end up with a stomach ache and possibly throw up and that would not be good. I have to get home and put these groceries away and make myself something to eat and do research for my next article and redo the outline for the next three chapters of my novel and…

Mitch was sitting outside the door of my apartment.

“Where’d you go?” Mitch asked as he rose from the dirtied carpet that covered the hall floor, “I called and told you I was coming by.”

“Um…..” Whimper, “Groceries…”

He smiled at me. He was holding a bag in his hand with grease stains on it. My neighbors kept peeking out into the hallway with curious looks. These bags in my arms were getting heavy. His smile widened, “I brought dinner. Let’s get inside.”

He took my grocery bags from me so I could get out my keys and carried them in for me, putting them on my kitchen counter. Then he started going through the bags and putting stuff away, which was somewhat comical because he’d never been to my apartment before and had no idea where anything went so he would open five cabinets before finally putting whatever he was holding in the inevitably wrong place. The guy put a jar of pasta sauce with the canned fruits. I mean really, is he nuts?

“How was practice?” I asked, tiredly

“Apparently not as exhausting as office work,” he chuckled, giving me a playfully questioning look.

“I had a bad day,” I sighed in reply. I let him put my groceries away by himself and sat on a barstool before letting my head hit the counter. “A really, really bad day. Everything was absolutely horrible and nothing went right, nothing whatsoever.

“Poor baby,” he said with a teasing pout, “Want me to kiss it better?”

He sat down on the barstool next to me and I nodded childishly. Grinning, he leaned down and captured my lips, making me smile a little. I loved his kisses. With anyone else, kissing had been only a prelude to something more, but with Mitch it was a sport unto itself and I craved his kisses like nothing before.

His large, calloused hand cradled the back of my neck while the other stroked my thigh and all I could do was wrap my arms around his broad shoulders while his mouth defiled mine. Suddenly both hands were on my thighs and I was yanked off of the barstool and onto his lap, straddling him. He broke away to give me a fiendish smirk before he went back to kissing me stupid.

And of course, the phone rang.

I groaned in annoyance and pulled away from him, “My entire day has been this tragically ironic,” I whined while reaching for the phone. He stopped my hand and mumbled, “Let it ring,” before the assault of delicious kisses continued.

I was getting… very excited and for once I was hoping that kissing would quickly lead to something more. His touches ignited my skin, his kisses enflamed my soul, hideous poetic phrases filled my mind and somehow found their way into this word document…

And the answering machine, “Thaddeus Louise Fletcher, you pick up this phone right now!”

“Goddamn it, Mom!” I shouted and pulled away from Mitch.

“I know you’re home! I called your office and they said you’d left for the day and since I know you have nothing remotely resembling a social life, I know for a fact that you are there, now pick up this phone or I will fly down there tomorrow and-”

To my absolute horror, Mitch picked up the phone, “Hi, is this Tad’s mother?” I gaped in shock with he just smiled mischievously and I knew no good could possibly come from this. “Yes, ma’am, I understand that you want to talk to him, but he’s had a very difficult day today and he’s quite… busy at the moment, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be sure to have him call you first thing tomorrow. Bye.”

My mouth was hanging open so wide that Mitch stared at me and his eyes glazed over a bit. I snapped my jaw closed and glared at him, “You just spoke to my mother with a sexual innuendo implied in the tone of your voice,” I said in shock.

Mitch shrugged, “She’s off the phone, isn’t she? So your real name is Thaddeus?”

“Mitch!” I exclaimed, “That was my mother! And you spoke to her! With sexual innuendo implied in the tone of your voice!” Obviously, he didn’t understand the severity of this situation.

“I thought she knew you were gay?”

“She does!” I shouted, “That makes it worse because she probably thinks we’re sleeping together!”

“Tad, we are sleeping together.”

“But she didn’t know that! And now because of your vocal implications, she does! And she’ll tell people!”

Mitch obviously had no idea what he’d done. He just sat there was a blasé expression on his gorgeous face, somehow already assimilated to my random bursts of spastic fret.

“The tabloids have pictures of us eating dinner together and getting into a car together. I think most people already think we’re-”

“Think, Mitch!” I shouted, “Thinking is purely speculation, often without truth. My mother knows!”

“Wouldn’t her analyzing the tone of my voice be considered speculation? Until she walks in on us with my tongue up your ass, I think we’re ok.”

That was not appropriate. He shouldn’t say things like that. It made my face erupt in a blush and I nearly choked on my own saliva when the mental imaged popped into my brain and engraved itself into the walls.

“Mitch, don’t be vulgar!”

He grinned, “I can’t help it. Looking at you put my mind in the gutter. Actually it causes several reactions, but you told me to stop being vulgar so…”

I was blushing like a stupid girl and I hated it because I am a man and men don’t blush!

“You’re so cute when you mimic a tomato.”

“Shut up, Mitch!” I went to get off of his lap, but the held me down so I wiggled and the lovely friction caused a most inappropriate reaction.

His large hand was on the back of my neck and I was pulled into a deliciously bruising kiss before I knew what happened. I groaned loudly. My mind was completely focused on how it was possible that had actually made it up to now without his kisses.

And there was a knock on the door.

“FUCK!” Mitch shouted. I was too far-gone to care and just pulled him back me. We ignored the knocking and Mitch worked on the zipper of my over-priced designer slacks. Then I heard the key in the lock and froze. Only one person had the key to me apartment.

The door opened. “…Oh.”

I winced and turned with a weak smile, “Hey, Jeff.”