Best Brother: Ch. 2

My eyes scanned the bar, dying for the sight of a fresh face. I was going through a bit of a withdrawal from the heated passion of hooking up with someone you met all of two hours ago. I hadn’t tasted any lips that reeked of alcohol in a few very long days. My abstinence was of my own volition, I wanted someone completely new and sadly there wasn’t a lot of that around here.

I peered from side to side, scanning every face in the sea of men I had already slept with. The only thing keeping my desires from being fulfilled was the fact I wasn’t sloshed enough to forget anyone’s face. I wasn’t anticipating that, either. I’ve been pretty good about watching how much I drink for a while now, and I fill the void of my refrain from alcohol induced euphoria with meaningless buzzed sex with strangers.

Suddenly I caught a glimpse of exactly what I was looking for. A fish I hadn’t tagged yet. From the looks of it, he had caught a glimpse of me, too.

I’m no master of seduction. Not in the slightest. I just make it clear that things will be going somewhere, and that seems to be all the incentive a straight man without a blonde under his arm needs to jump in bed with another guy. In their defense, I’m on the feminine side. So they can still be super macho while porking the faggot they would’ve beat the shit out of in high school.

Like I had anticipated after catching his momentary gaze, he made his way over to me. A nice tall Guinness Draught in hand with a curious grin lingering on his features. His kiss would be a bittersweet one, but a satisfying kiss nonetheless. He was cute. Very, very cute. A decent couple inches taller than me with dirty blonde hair nipping at his earlobes. Dark blue eyes that gave him the most perfectly mysterious aura I’d ever witnessed.

Call me a slut (and I’d agree without even brief hesitation) but I could already picture the feverish scene that was bound to take place. I felt a warmth rise in my chest from the excitement of the vivid imagery in my mind and the prospect of the fresh face I had been dreaming of every hour of every loveless day.

I smirked in response to his expression and the rapid succession of dirty thoughts that swept through my mind. He sat beside me in the empty stool to my left and placed his drink on half of the coaster that sat in front of him.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" His voice was pure velvet masculinity. Rich and dark like the brew he carried with him. If I wasn’t so well trained in keeping cool I’m sure I would’ve melted.

"Shoot." I responded, raising my diet Coke to my lips and taking a sip, anticipating his baritone articulation to once again grace my ears.

"Are you attracted to men?" He questioned with the utmost confidence in himself. I looked his face over for a moment and then looked down at my soda resting in hand.

"Depends." I shrugged.

"On?"

"The man." I responded, once again allowing my eyes to meet his.

"What do you think about the one in front of you?" His grin grew as his body relaxed and he allowed himself to lean back in the high chair.

"He’s certainly nothing like the rest of them here."

"Oh? How would you know?"

"Cuz a majority of the men in here have been men I was briefly attracted to… But that’s hardly any of your business." I said playfully and directed my attention away from him.

This is the drawn out part. I have to make them more interested in me than I am in them for this to work as planned, and just by his body language it wasn’t hard to infer that he was in fact interested.

We exchanged the basics, names, ages, thoughts on the bar itself. After a while, we had gotten onto the topic of romance and true love after a brief discussion determining whether or not he’d be leaving alone tonight.

"I’ve never believed in love. I believe in lust, but I honestly can’t see the appeal in commitment or any reason for it." I shrugged. Corey, my fresh face, was bobbing around, trying to capture my full, undivided attention, but I refused to meet his gaze.

"Oh, you’re one of those." He responded and I could tell there was yet another smile tugging at his lips.

"Well what about you? Is romantics all you’re after?"

"No. Though I thoroughly enjoy them, I also enjoy casual hook ups. But unlike you, I know love exists and it’s completely possible for everyone."

"I have never felt the desire to stay with more than one person longer than the time it takes to get off."

"That begs the question, have you stayed around and got to know someone for longer than that?"

"No, and like I said, I have never desired to."

"Touché." He nodded, taking a drink of his brew. "Would you try and get to know me?"

"I could try. I’m not going to promise you anything."

"Well I don’t know… You just seem like someone I’d like to be with for more than just the time it takes to get off." He said. I had had enough of this emotional conversation shit. I am here to get fucked, not discuss my commitment issues with a very attractive stranger.

"Listen," I began. I wasn’t about to sit here and pass up my only opportunity to get laid here. "I don’t know what I want in a person. I’m fine with being by myself. I don’t feel like I need another person to be valid or complete. Some nights I’d just rather not be completely alone. Company is nice in short bursts. Other than that short burst of companionship, I don’t need anyone."

"No one likes being used for sex." His eyes narrowed to slits.

"I’m not using people for sex… Forty-five minutes of intense physical intimacy are more desirable to me than a month of small acts of affection and dating er whatever. It seems like a lotta work for something that’s not even gonna last. I don’t wanna talk about this and if you’re not okay with me only being interested in a one time thing, I’ll make due some other way."

"I’m not saying that, really… I dunno… I just feel like I can see us hanging out sometimes and doing this other than sex." He shrugged.

He obviously doesn’t know me. Distant, tired, and perverse, I’m not the kind of person that’s up for a movie and cuddling, not the kind of person that's up for human interaction that isn't sex. I haven’t been affectionate toward another person since… The last time I saw my brother, which had to be at least a year ago, bare minimum, and all that was was a long hug. My brother is the only person I’ve ever cared to pay attention to for more than ten minutes. So I told him.

"You don’t know me. I am not cut out for that, and I don’t want to fucking talk about it like it’s up for debate or I’m going to change my mindset for some random in a bar." I snapped, my eyes finally meeting his.

"You won’t even try and let me sway you?"

"How? You gonna buy me chocolate and flowers and brush my hair out of my face and let me know I’m pretty?" My words were drenched with utter contempt.

"No, I just think you should try me before you completely abandon the idea that there could be more after this."

"Sweetie, I never even entertained the idea."

“Well, if I can get you to promise to at least consider, I'm still... Kinda interested... in... y'know...” He said, like it was the most casual shit in the world. Had I not been absolutely desperate and teetering on the fine line between happily buzzed and lit, I probably would've walked away, offended with him. He criticizes my life style and personal preference, then still expects me to want to fuck him (which begs the question, is my offense justified if I do still want to fuck him?)

I've never had a problem breaking promises before.

XOX

The early morning hours had been spent drowning in carnal need and gasping for air. Begging for release in pitiful whimpers that vaguely sounded like your partner's name. I had once again become a writhing mess under a man I would refuse to speak to again in hopes of preserving the pure memory of two tangled bodies trying to fulfill their own selfish desire to reach their climax.

Corey had fallen asleep soon after, and I was facing one of my typical post-casual sex lows. My body craved a cigarette to curb the empty feeling that scratched at my heart. Corey's place reeked of smoke, so I knew there had to at least be one in here. I'd bum it off him and leave him a sorry if I could find a pen. Maybe.

I rose from my spot with my one shot lover ever so carefully, a master at not disturbing the sleeping form next to me, I crept across the room eyes scanning for a smoke that I so desperately needed. It was a somewhat godly hour of the morning, more so than 3 am anyway, and small rays of light sneaked through the battered curtains and lit my way to the unfiltered emotion suppressants.

I extended my hand over to the nearly full box and took my cancer stick. I placed it between my lips so I could hold it while I dressed myself without damaging it. I got my clothes on hastily and made my way silently out of his door and then out of his house in record time. As I sprinted to my car, I was somewhat proud of myself for getting in there and getting out without him even moving.

Ring... Ring...

I picked my phone out of my pocket as the third ring was chiming, and saw “Mousey” on the caller ID. It was my baby brother, the one that I haven't spoken to in a year and a half, minimum. We had, from what I remember, some kind of nuclear meltdown at Christmas, and I was so disgusted with myself that I had decided to not speak to my family unless they initiated conversation. I can't remember being angry at him as much as I was furious at myself.

“Hello?” I answered the phone before it could ring a fourth and final time.

“H-Hey Geegee... It's Mikey... I um... I'm sorry to randomly call you like this... I just... I'm just...” He was obviously quite broken up about something. God forbid a death in the family.  He didn't speak for a while, just sniffled.

“What is it, Mikes?” I urged, my mind racing through faces of relatives, my mind working against me and trying to picture each family member in a coffin and attach some fucked up story about their death to the mental image.

“I-I need you to come over and stay for a while... If it's possible... Please...” He was begging.

“Why? What’s wrong? What happened?” Now I know for a fact had it been a death in the family he would've mentioned who it was by now, and would not have asked me to stay with him. He's got a girlfriend that's around to console him and last I remember he was, rightfully, angry with me over my substance abuse.

“Ali and I… She… She left me…” He croaked.

“Oh… Mikey, I’m so sorry. I’ll be down as soon as possible, alright?” Guess maybe he doesn't have a girlfriend to lend a shoulder for a Kleenex. Not that I have any problem whatsoever with having to stay with Mikey. This could actually be very good for me. Out of everyone I haven't talked to since that Christmas, I can only honestly say I've missed my brother. Call me a freak, but I've been kept up some nights trying to remember what it felt like to hold him protectively when he was frightened of something, or remembering the shared laughs and stupid 'traditions'.

“Thank you... Thank you so much.”

“I love ya, I'll get my things together and start getting down there right now. I'll see ya in a bit, mkay?” I'm pretty sure this has entered me into 'got to take care of my baby brother' mode, because I immediately slid into my car and popped my keys in the ignition, prepared to rush home to pack a few bags and stay with him.

“I love you too, Geegee... Thank you...” He said, lingering on the line for a moment before hanging up.