Where Nerves End

“What happened to an hour?”
He groaned. “Oh my God. It was—” He paused to flag down the waiter, then faced me again. “Twenty minute butterfly on the ankle turned into an hour long ordeal.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “Her boyfriend kept telling her it would hurt, but she insisted that was where she wanted it. And she wasnt afraid of a little pain. So it was about five minutes of tattooing, ten minutes of giving her a chance to catch her breath, five minutes of tattooing, and so on.”
The waiter appeared beside us. Seth ordered one of the local microbrews, one even I hadnt heard of. Once we were alone again, he said, “I suggested she let me finish the outline today, and then come back later for the shading. No way, she wanted it done today, because this was the last time she was getting inked.”
“Now, now, Seth,” I said. “Since when are you so unsympathetic with your clients?”
“Since she was keeping me from my beer!”
I laughed. “Okay, fair enough.”
Seth chuckled. “All right, so she wasnt that bad, but, yes, I was getting a little impatient, because today was a „gimme a damn beer day.”
“I know that feeling,” I muttered into my beer bottle.
Seths drink arrived a moment later, and after hed taken a drink, he said, “So has Michael done anything for you?”
It was only by the grace of God I didnt wind up with a mouthful of beer in my sinuses. Coughing and sputtering, I stared at Seth. “I… what? ”
“For your shoulder.” He lowered his chin and smirked. “Whatd you think I meant? His blow job skills?”
“Right, something like that.” I laughed, hoping Seth didnt see any incriminating color in my face. “But to answer your question, yeah, hes been helping a lot. The mans a miracle worker.”
“Preaching to the choir.”
Of course, Michael hadnt done anything to or for my shoulder in a while. Every treatment he gave me was a miracle and a half, but it didnt do much good when his presence and his touch created tension. Tension that resulted in more muscle spasms.
Maybe I needed a new acupuncturist. All the treatment without the unrequited lust. Or a new roommate. That would probably help matters.
“Jason?” Seth waved a hand in front of my face. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Just…relationship bullshit, I guess.”
“What? Ex giving you grief again or something?”
I shook my head. “No, I havent heard from him in ages.” Scowling, I added, “I think hes pretty happy with his sugar daddy.”
“Fucker. I swear, he comes back to Tucker Springs, Im going to pin him down and tattoo „douchewaffle across his forehead.”
I snickered. “Ill hold him down for you.”
“Deal.” He took a drink, then set the bottle down, but didnt let go of it. “So whats going on?”
“Nothing a couple more beers wont cure,” I said flatly.
“Uh-huh.” He adopted his famously ridiculous German accent. “Ze doctor is in. Tell me all about it.”
I blew out a breath, then pressed my beer bottle against my forehead. “Lets just say I am losing my mind in that house.”
“Really?” His own beer tapped quietly on the table as he put it down. “I figured Michael would be easy to live with. And his kids only there half the time.”
“Oh, he is. They are.” I lowered the bottle. “Dylans fine. Its Michael.”
Seth furrowed his brow. “What? You two dont get along?”
“Oh, we do.” I shook my head, staring at the table between us. “We definitely do.”
“Then…?”
“You know how when youve got a thing for someone, and—”
“Ooh.” He grinned. “Trying to live with Michael has got to be, um, hard. He is definitely something to look at.”
“Yeah. About that.” I picked up my beer again and, just before I took a drink, muttered, “Shouldve just stuck to looking.”
Confusion deepened the crevices between Seths eyebrows. “I dont…” Then he blinked. “Wait, what? ”
And my heart dropped. The bottle in my hand almost did too. “Oh, fuck .”
“You…and Michael…” Seths eyes slowly widened. “Are you telling me Michaels gay?”
“But, I mean, my son doesn’t know. And neither does Seth.”
I barely set the bottle down before I dropped it, and I let my face fall into my hand. “Shit. I am so sorry, Seth. I…wasnt even thinking.”
“I’m sure I don’t have to ask, but you’ll be…discreet?”
Michael was going to kill me. Rightfully so too. Fuck, how could I be so stupid?
Seths chair creaked, and when I