Covet Thy Neighbor

night.”
    “Me too.”
    “Right. Good night, Seth.”
    I swallowed. “Good night. I’ll see you around.”
    He nodded, and we both turned toward our respective apartments. I unlocked my door and slipped out of the hallway before I could change my mind. His door opened and closed pretty quickly, too.
    As soon as I was alone, I leaned against the door and rubbed my vaguely burning eyes. Had I really just turned down a night with Darren? When I was so goddamned horny I couldn’t see straight?
    But we had a hard enough time making postcoital eye contact when illicit substances weren’t involved. No point in making the awkwardness worse, since that was something I wouldn’t be able to relieve by frantically jerking off in the shower.
    Calling it off had been the right thing to do. I knew it was.
    But I still had a hard-on.
    Which I desperately needed to take care of.
    And I would.
    Right after I did something about this sudden hankering for Doritos . . .

Surprise, surprise: it took less than twenty-four hours for us to run into each other again. This time, Darren was pulling groceries out of his car while I closed up the shop.
    “Hey,” I said. “Long time, no see.”
    Darren chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.” He put the handles of another plastic bag over his wrist, grimacing as he did.
    “You need a hand with those?” I asked.
    He hesitated, then exhaled and set one of the bags down. “You don’t mind?”
    “Not at all. Give me a second.” I locked the studio door, then pocketed my keys and stepped off the curb. “Getting ready for Armageddon?”
    “Just finally getting around to actually stocking up the kitchen.” He handed me a couple of bags. “You know how it is right after you move.”
    “No kidding.” I smirked as I took another bag off his hands. “And if you’re anything like me, you’re probably low on snack food after last night.”
    Darren chuckled and hoisted the last bag out of the trunk before he closed the lid with his elbow. “If we do that again, I’m going to have to permanently evict all the snack food from my apartment.”
    “Well, if you do, and then we do, I always keep Doritos around just in case.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    We took the groceries up to his apartment. He’d definitely settled in since the last time I’d been in here. There were still a few boxes lying around, some open and some still sealed, and about a third of the shelves were bare, but he’d put out a few decorations and hung some pictures. Mostly family photos and a framed print of some music festival’s poster.
    Naturally, there was a cross on one wall—simple, just plain wood—and a weathered leather-bound Bible on the coffee table between a couple of candles and an Xbox controller. The religious touches didn’t surprise me, but they were a constant reminder of why Darren and I were permanently friend-zoned.
    We unpacked the dozen or so bags, and after everything was put away, he wadded up the plastic bags and put them in a drawer. Probably to reuse; I did the same thing.
    Then he faced me, drumming his fingers on the counter. “Well. I think that’s everything. Thanks for your help.”
    “Anytime.”
    “While you’re here, though . . .” The drumming slowed.
    “Hmm?”
    “There’s something I wanted to ask you about.”
    My throat tightened. “Okay . . .”
    He chewed his lip and fidgeted uncomfortably. My mind came up with all manner of things he might want to talk about—the night we’d smoked, the nights we’d fucked, what to do with tonight—but I wasn’t quite ready when he finally blurted out, “I’d like a tattoo.”
    “Seriously?” I curled my fingers at my side just thinking about tattooing Darren’s skin. “What happened to being afraid of needles?”
    Darren fidgeted, not quite hiding a shudder. “Well, I’m not crazy about the idea, but a friend drew a design for me a few years ago, and I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to get it done.” He met my eyes. “If you’re willing to, I’d like to have you put it on.”
    “Can, um, can I see the design?”
    “Yeah. Sure.”
    To my surprise, he took me back into the living room and then opened the leather-covered Bible on the coffee table. Inside its cover was a folded piece of paper, which he withdrew and handed to me.
    I carefully unfolded it. Though religious designs weren’t my cup of tea, this one was beautiful. The cross was about seven inches tall and five across. The arms