Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 8

Same came down, looking more than a little worse for wear. His eyes weren't bloodshot anymore, but he was still a little pale and his hair was sticking up all over his head in fuzzy tufts. He smiled and squinted at Devin as he entered the room, wincing as if both gestures hurt.
    "Remind me not to drink anything Lee puts in front of me again," Sam said. Glancing around the living room, he sat in front of the chess board and motioned Devin over.
    "Lee's always a bad influence on you," Devin said. He took his seat. He couldn't remember his strategy from the last time they'd played. Not that it mattered. His mind was too far away from the game to have any sort of focus.
    "Nah, he actually talks me out of doing some pretty wicked things. I think he's afraid I'll turn out cooler than him." Sam grinned and moved one of his pawns.
    "Right." Devin moved a rook and captured one of Sam's knights. "So, how's it been going with Dr. Willis? She letting you see patients by yourself yet?"
    "No, assistants aren't allowed to see patients alone," Sam responded. He moved his other knight to take Devin's bishop. "I won't be able to see patients by myself until I finally get my doctorate in December."
    "Then you'll be able to prescribe drugs, right?"
    Sam reached across the table until his hand connected with Devin's wrist. He turned Devin's arm over and began tracing his fingers over the small ribboning of veins just beneath his skin. Devin inhaled sharply. Every time Sam touched him, he began questioning every idea he had about the two of them. Was it a mistake to push Sam away? Would he regret not responding to the promise behind those hazel eyes and the thump his heart gave when he imagined letting Sam have his way? Devin cleared his suddenly dry throat. Every person he'd been with before knew what he was getting into, but with Sam, it hardly felt like a level playing field. For all his experience in keeping things casual, Devin knew the last thing he'd feel was indifference if he let his guard down and let Sam get him into bed.
    "Is this what you wanted to talk about?" Sam asked. He flashed a small smile then licked his lips. "I can find much better things to discuss. Or we can skip talking altogether."
    "There's nothing wrong with small talk."
    "No, but you're stalling," Sam countered. "What's wrong?"
    Devin moved one of his bishops to block an attack on his queen. "Nothing's wrong."
    "No? Then why aren't we naked?" Sam clasped Devin's hand. "I admit, all this anticipation is making me hot. So hot," he said, "but enough is enough. I'm sorry I was acting like a crazy person last night, but as you can see I'm sober and I still want this. I'm afraid the seam on my jeans can't take much more pressure. So tell me what your hangups are and then we can have happy naked time."
    "Sam, it's not that simple."
    Sam moved his bishop across the board. "Don't tell me you want to have a long courtship before we have sex. That's romantic and pretty damn sweet, but you never struck me as the type to delay gratification. So either you've got an STD, waiting for the full run of antibiotics to finish before you play again, or you don't want to do this with me." He paused. "I was really hoping I was so drunk I'd misinterpreted what you'd said."
    "You didn't," Devin said. "I don't think we're right for each other."
    "I don't understand," Sam said. "I saw something. The way you looked at me wasn't my imagination. You're not— you don't have feelings for anyone else. Are you just not attracted to me?" Devin said nothing. "But that doesn't make sense either, unless you want me to believe the way you responded to me was purely a biological reaction to someone being all over you." As this thought sunk in, Sam snatched his hand from Devin's wrist and covered his mouth. "Oh, God. I've been so stupid. I should've known that you wouldn't want someone like me. Not someone like me. Me. You must've been laughing your ass off when I was groping you last night."
    "I wasn't laughing at you." Devin reached across the table for him. "Sam—"
    Sam pulled his other hand out of reach. "Stop. Whose turn is it?"
    Devin looked down at the chess pieces. "It's done. The game is over. You won."
    Sam laughed, the low, brief sound devoid of humor. "Did I?"
    Before Devin could respond, Sam stood from the table. His last words were like a blow to Devin's chest, and he sat there, numb, watching as Sam avoided looking at him and disappeared around the corner in a flash. Gone. No longer