By Chance (Courtland Chronicles) Page 4

  “It’s nothing. He just wants my signature on file in case I’m not available to vote my stock at the quarterly meetings.”

  “You mean, he’s pressuring you to give him control of your third of the company.”

  “Which I have no intention of doing.”

  “That’s not what it sounded like last night.”

  She let out an annoyed huff. “Eric, I’m perfectly capable of handling my own business affairs.”

  He scooped up his coffee and took a slow, deliberate sip, using every millisecond to try to regain his earlier Zen-like calm. “You know he’ll just keep browbeating you until you give in. It’s what he always does.”

  “I’ll stop taking his calls.”

  “Then he’ll drive up here in person again, which is exactly what you want.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Eric!”

  “That’s the real reason you keep overdosing, isn’t it? It’s a pathetic, manipulative ploy to get his attention.” So much for calm; now he could barely keep from hurling his plate across the room. “He’s never coming back to you, Mom. Why should he? He’s got a majority stake in the company now. He doesn’t need you or your money anymore.”

  Now she looked like she was about to burst out crying—and that was a manipulation too. “What a horrible thing to say.”

  “It’s the truth.” He pushed his chair back with a loud scrape and stood. “I’ve just realized something. I can’t save you, Mom. You don’t want to be saved. You want to drown in your booze and your pills so everyone will pity you. Well, I don’t pity you. If you don’t want to lift a finger to help yourself, so be it. But I’m not going to stand around and watch you commit suicide by slow degrees.”

  He marched to the foyer, grabbed his things and headed out to the car. He waited there a few minutes, in the vain hope his mother would emerge and try to smooth things over. Too late, it dawned on him that he hadn’t said goodbye to Estellita, but no way was he going back inside. He’d drop her a note once he got back to the city.

  He arrived in Rochester in time to catch the ten o’clock train. Luckily, the last car was deserted, so he tucked himself in a quiet corner seat and buried his nose in his economics book.

  It was already dark when the train pulled into Grand Central Station around five. He waited until the other passengers disembarked, securely zipping his jacket and clutching his backpack close to his body before he stepped onto the platform.

  He walked toward the stairs at the far end, giving a start when someone brushed past him, bumping his shoulder.

  “Sorry,” the guy said, glancing back at Eric, making eye contact. Very pointed eye contact, in fact.

  He was about six feet tall, with dark wavy hair and olive skin, dressed in a clean pair of jeans, sneakers and a navy-blue parka. Eric kept his gaze locked on him, but the guy didn’t look away. Instead, he dropped his hands to his belt, thumbs wound in the loops, hitching up the crotch of his jeans in open and unmistakable invitation.

  There was a men’s room a few steps ahead, near the end of the platform. Eric cocked his head toward it, and the guy ducked inside. Eric reached it a few seconds later, glancing around for security guards and other passengers. The coast was clear.

  The place reeked of stale urine and hand soap, the usual public toilet bouquet. The guy stood at the last urinal. Eric ambled up beside him and unzipped. Checking out each other’s equipment beforehand was part of the ritual. It also gave them an extra minute or two to make sure no one else was lurking in the stalls.

  The guy had a nice average-sized cock, with a pretty pink head and lots of foreskin. He finished pissing and shook off, moving his hand up and down the shaft several times. Eric’s mouth watered.

  “See something you like?” the guy asked, licking his lips.

  Enough teasing. Grabbing the guy’s hand, Eric dragged him into the handicapped stall and flipped the latch. The guy had him pinned against the cracked tiles before Eric could suck in another breath, his hand snaking down to grasp Eric’s cock, jacking it brutally until it stood up and saluted.

  “How do you want it?” the guy prompted, reaching inside his parka.

  “Up the ass,” Eric rasped. “I’ve got some condoms and lube in my pack—”

  “That’s not what I’m looking for.” The guy’s tone suddenly shifted from seductive to harsh, and a second later, Eric felt something very sharp and cold pressed under his ribcage. “You dirty queer,” he spat, getting right up in Eric’s face. His breath stank of cheap beer. “Who the fuck d’you think you are, huh? You think you can come on to me and get away with it?”

  Oh, Christ, oh, Jesus, oh, fucking shit.

  “My, my wallet’s in my bag,” Eric stammered, abject terror gripping him so tightly he could barely squeeze out the words. There was no guarantee this whack-job wouldn’t hurt him no matter what Eric offered him, but he had to try. “It’s got a couple hundred bucks in it. Take it.”

  “I plan to.”

  “Then…let me go, okay? I won’t tell anybody. I won’t even remember your face in five minutes.”

  “Is that what you say to all the fags you fuck in public johns?” The knife jabbed in harder.

  Eric waited for his life to flash in front of his eyes, but all he got was dead air. He was going to fucking die in here with his pants around his ankles, murdered by some deranged homophobe who probably thought God told him to do it. He could just imagine the look on his father’s face when they called him down to the morgue to identify his body. “I won’t breathe a word to anyone, I swear.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make sure of—”

  There came a sudden swooshing sound Eric recognized as the outside door swinging open, followed by running tap water.

  His assailant’s gaze bounced from the knife to the stall door and back again. But when Eric opened his mouth to call out, the guy’s fist smashed into his cheekbone. “You just got lucky,” he sneered, snatching up Eric’s backpack.

  Eric slid down the wall, barely registering that his assailant had fled a second or two before he blacked out.

  Chapter Four

  An abrupt pounding at the door jolted Nick awake. Blinking hard, he stood, the book in his lap sliding to the floor, then went over to answer it, his jaw practically hitting his chest at the sight of Eric standing there, a shiner in full bloom around his left eye.

  “Jesus, Eric, what happened? I thought you’d be back hours ago.” In lieu of replying, his roommate pushed past him and made a beeline for the kitchen. “Why didn’t you use your key?”

  “I lost it.” Eric put on the teakettle, then grabbed a box of wheat crackers before sinking into the nearest chair.

  Nick lingered in the doorway, studying Eric with concern. “You lost your bag too?”

  “Yeah. I walked into a door, and they disappeared.”

  “Since when did they start building doors in the shape of fists?”

  Eric tried to smile, but ended up grimacing instead. “I got mugged at Grand Central this afternoon.”

  Nick glanced at his watch, shocked to find that it was close to midnight. “Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve…” Could’ve what? Held his hand? Yeah, Eric would’ve loved that. “Helped.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but there’s nothing you could’ve done, unless you enjoy cooling your heels in emergency rooms for hours on end.”

  “Let me have a look.” He slid one hand gently under Eric’s chin, tilting it upward for a better view. There was a small stitched-up laceration on his cheekbone a mere half inch from the outside corner of his eye, but aside from that, it looked a lot worse than it was. “It’ll take a week or so for that black eye to fade, but all in all, I’d say you were lucky. I assume they checked you for concussion?”

  Eric nodded. “I was out for a couple of minutes after the guy punched me, but other than the little elves playing percussion on my skull, I feel okay.”

  After all the times Nick had been knocked out on the field, he could empathize
. “Did they give you anything for the headache?”

  “Just regular Tylenol. They offered me something stronger, but I don’t like taking pills if I can help it.”

  He hadn’t realized he was still cradling Eric’s chin until their gazes locked. Heat flaring in his cheeks, he stepped back. “Um, wait a sec.” He found a bag of frozen peas in the freezer and handed it to Eric. “See if this helps.”

  The kettle chose that moment to start shrieking, but Nick waved Eric back to his seat and fixed the tea himself, a mug for each of them. All they had was some weird herbal mixture Eric liked, but Nick figured enough sugar would make it palatable. He stirred two teaspoons into both.

  “I take mine plain,” Eric interjected.

  “Not tonight you don’t. Your blood sugar’s probably in the basement. Something hot and sweet will do you good. Have a few of those crackers too.”

  He handed a mug to Eric, then sat down across from him. Pretty hard not to notice Eric’s fingers trembling as he wrapped them around the mug. It alarmed Nick more than the cut near Eric’s eye.

  “What happened?” he prompted.

  Eric shot him a startled look and sat up straight, thumb flicking the mug handle. “I, uh…ducked into the men’s room to take a leak, and the guy jumped me.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that’s not the whole story?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Eric, you’re the world’s worst liar. C’mon, quit your twitching and tell me what really happened.”

  “Okay, but remember—you asked.” He blew on his tea to cool it, then took a sip before continuing. “I went into the men’s room to get fucked by this guy I ran into on the platform. He flipped out and pulled a knife on me.”

  “Jesus!” Nick’s hands jerked in shock, nearly overturning his tea. “You’re lucky all you lost was your backpack.”

  “The thought had occurred to me.”

  “Did you report it to the cops?”

  “They took me to the ER and I gave them my statement while I was waiting, for all the good it’ll do. I doubt they’ll catch the guy.”

  Eric didn’t seem especially bothered by the notion. Didn’t he even care? “Does this kind of thing happen to you often?”

  “Sex in public places, or getting the crap kicked out of me?”

  Eric’s prickly tone told Nick he’d struck a nerve. Maybe it wasn’t not caring so much as him trying to put a brave face on a frightening situation. “Since you don’t come home every night looking like you just went six rounds with Mike Tyson, let’s assume I meant the former.”

  Leaning back, Eric scooped up the bag of peas and pressed it to his cheek. “I’ve had my fair share of anonymous sex, but nobody’s ever tried to kill me before.”

  “At least you’re ahead of the odds.”

  Eric just shrugged.

  “Have you ever considered that this type of behavior might be a bit…self-destructive?”

  “Looks like somebody paid attention in freshman psych class.”

  “Eric, c’mon. Be serious.”

  “Okay, okay,” he snapped, more exasperated than chastened. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Nick sighed. “You know, it’s kind of ironic that a guy who admits to not liking people that much takes such wild chances with complete strangers.”

  “I’ve got a sex drive, like everyone else. How I choose to satisfy it is my business.”

  “Look, I’m not judging you. I’m just trying to understand why you prefer doing…what you’ve been doing, when there must be plenty of guys who’d love to date someone like you.”

  Eric fished a cracker from the box and bit off one corner. “I don’t do relationships.”

  “What, never? Why not?”

  “Let’s just say my background’s made me a bit gun-shy.”

  “So that’s it? You won’t even try?”

  “For the record, I did try. I dated someone in high school, and I screwed it up royally. We’d been friends since we were kids, but after the way I hurt her, she never spoke to me again. No way do I want to repeat that experience.”

  Nick’s eyes went wide. “She?”

  “Believe it or not, I have slept with women. I’ve even enjoyed it.”

  “Then what made you—”

  “Turn queer?” Eric supplied. “Technically, I’m bisexual, but I prefer men. They don’t make an issue over sex for its own sake. Every woman I’ve ever slept with thought it meant I owed her a commitment. I got tired of the hassle.”

  “So, men are just easy?”

  “I prefer ‘uncomplicated.’”

  “Except the ones who pull knives on you.”

  “Touché.” Eric put down the peas and scooped up his mug again. “You seem fairly wise about relationships for somebody who isn’t in one.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Well, you’ve been living here for a week, and the only woman I’ve seen you with is Ally. I thought you football heroes had to beat the girls back with a whip and a chair.”

  Nick laughed. “Between practice and studying, I’ve got enough on my plate. I don’t have time for a girlfriend too.”

  “Is that why you and Ally broke up?”

  “None of your business” hung on the tip of Nick’s tongue, but he swallowed it. Eric had already spilled his fair share of personal stuff. Time for him to return the favor. “We decided we were better off as friends.”

  Eric’s eyebrow arched. “There’s no law that says you can’t have a little no-strings-attached fun. Haven’t you ever blown off steam with an adoring fan after a game?”

  This new twist in the conversation was getting a bit too personal. Nick squirmed in his chair, a weird, prickly sensation settling between his shoulder blades. Still, he had a feeling Eric wasn’t the sort of guy who went around spreading rumors, and this wasn’t something he could ever talk about with Ally. “Sure I have, but after a while it just feels…empty. Plus, I don’t like being fodder for campus gossip.”

  “Really? I thought most of you jocks found that kind of attention flattering.”

  Nick stifled a grimace and knocked back the last sip of his tea. “I’d rather not be another notch on somebody’s bedpost.”

  Eric opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. “What?” Nick prompted.

  “I think you’re missing out on a great opportunity. College is supposed to be a time of experimentation.”

  “I’ve done enough of that. I’d rather wait for the right person.”

  “My God, a romantic!” Eric chuckled, then winced, gingerly touching his cheekbone. “I didn’t think there were any of you left.”

  Nick yawned, glancing at his watch. Closing in on twelve thirty, and he had an eight a.m. class. “There won’t be anything left of either of us tomorrow if we don’t get some sleep,” he said, getting up to put their mugs in the sink.

  Eric took the first turn in the bathroom, emerging clad in a pair of thick sweats and two pairs of socks. Nick went over to the thermostat and nudged it up a few degrees before brushing his teeth and throwing on a long-sleeved T-shirt and flannel pajama pants.

  The light was still on in the living room when he came out. Eric was lying in bed with his eyes closed and the covers yanked up to his chin, shivering so hard the bedsprings creaked.

  Nick snagged his blanket and pillow from the couch and brought them over. “Scoot,” he said softly, already sliding under the covers.

  Eric’s eyes flew open. “What’re you doing?”

  “No arguments.” He spread his blanket on top of Eric’s, then reached up to flick off the lamp. “You’re having a delayed stress reaction. Not surprising, after what you’ve been through.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yeah, I do. Now shut up.” Nick rubbed his hands up and down his roommate’s arms, trying to warm him up. Eric’s entire body went rigid. “This won’t work if you don’t relax.”

  “With you lying here
next to me? Fat chance.”

  And the surprises just kept on coming. So Eric was attracted to him. Nick had suspected it from the day he’d moved in, but having it confirmed was still a bit unnerving. Well, it didn’t matter now. He couldn’t let Eric end up in the emergency room again.

  “Lean against me,” Nick whispered. “You need to get warm.”

  With a shaky breath, Eric sank back into Nick’s arms. Nick pressed close, chin hooked over Eric’s shoulder, rubbing his roommate’s arms and chest with both hands. Within a few minutes, Eric’s shivering began to subside.

  Unfortunately, that couldn’t be said for a certain part of Nick’s anatomy. He breathed a silent prayer of gratitude for the doused lights. Having Eric see his fire-engine blush would put the final capper on his embarrassment.

  “It’s not very sporting to tease me at a time like this,” Eric chided gently. His hand closed over Nick’s, giving it a comforting squeeze. “But for the record, I’m flattered.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Don’t be sorry.” He turned his head until their mouths were so close they could feel the soft puff of each other’s breath.

  Nick hesitated a split second before pressing his lips to Eric’s, darting his tongue inside. He whimpered at the taste of him—hot, wet, still sweet from the tea. Eric’s tongue entwined with his for a moment, sending Nick’s pulse spiraling, blood roaring between his ears. Eric’s hand cupped his cheek, fingers threading briefly through his hair. Then, with a tiny broken moan, Eric drew back, his breath wafting over Nick’s skin.

  “I, I don’t think this is such a good idea,” he murmured.

  Holy shit. Nick jerked away. What the fuck had he just done?

  What you’ve been wanting to do ever since that day you invited him to breakfast. Stop denying it.

  Shut up. Just. Shut. Up.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, humiliation washing through him as he rolled to his feet and reached for his blanket. “You should be warm enough now.”

  “Nick, c’mon…” Eric put a hand on his arm and tried to pull him back. “It’s okay.”

  No, it wasn’t. Not after he’d practically thrown himself at a guy who’d just suffered an awful trauma. Thrown himself at a friend. What was wrong with him?