“I should go,” I protested weakly as I uncapped the bottle.
“Cool it. I know you’re hungry, and I know you wouldn’t have come inside if you had a change of heart. Besides, you look like you have a million questions too. The quieter you got on the way here, the more I could hear your brain buzzing.”
I sank into the barstool with a sigh. “You’re right. I think too much. My brain doesn’t work right when you stand too close, so I’ll make my inquiries from the safety of this side of the island.”
Bobby J snorted. “Ham, turkey, both? And what kind of cheese do you like? I have cheddar, swiss, and provolone.”
“Turkey with swiss, please, and an even spread of Dijon. Not too much, not too little.”
“Yes, sir.” He winked before washing his hands and getting to work.
I compiled my inner list of questions as I sipped my water. “How long have you lived here?”
“Almost two years. I asked the real estate agent to find me a private, newly renovated place with a modern vibe…and a pool. And no, I don’t have a roommate, ’cause I don’t need the cash or the headache. I like my own company. Hell, I’m fucking hysterical.” He made sure he had my attention, then put a slice of swiss cheese over his eyes. “Don’t you think?”
“Yeah. Very funny,” I agreed in a flat tone, motioning toward the pool. “It’s lovely. Do you have…friends over often?”
Bobby J fixed me with an ear-to-ear grin. “My actual friends have been over a few times, but I never invite booty calls here…if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to take the chance of bringing the wrong guy or girl home.”
I spread a napkin over my lap and thanked him when he slid my sandwich to me on a plate. “Oh? Have you done that?”
“Yeah, and she stayed for a year. I finally resolved that mess and ended up doing the same thing with a dude six months later. I actually had to leave his shit on the sidewalk and inform the doorman not to grant him access to my floor. I even changed my lock…just in case,” he huffed, taking a huge bite of his sandwich. “That was over six years ago. I like to think I’m smarter about people now, but I keep ’em at arm’s length just in case they get the wrong idea.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll get the wrong idea?”
“No, you’re too honest. And you’ve been pretty clear that you’re interested in me as a concept…not as a person. I’m an experiment to you, and I’m totally down with that. If I thought you wanted a boyfriend, we wouldn’t be here,” he assured me around a mouthful of food.
“Hmm. Is that what happened with you and Johnny?” I asked nonchalantly.
Bobby J went still. He eyed me warily as he resumed chewing. “Did he say something to you?”
“Of course not. I barely know him. It’s obvious that there’s tension between you. Not hateful, though. It’s more…uncomfortable. Or complicated.”
“It’s not that complicated. We weren’t lovers. I mean, we were by accident. But that was because we were with the same person and—it was just a big fucking mistake,” he groused.
I cocked my head. “Accidental lovers? Is that a thing?”
“Sure. Another description is…threesome gone sideways.”
I studied the rigid set of his jaw as he stared into space with his brow furrowed thoughtfully.
“I considered putting threesomes on my list of to-dos,” I lied. “Should I rethink that experience?”
Bobby J’s eyes snapped up at me, virtually pinning me in place. “Threesomes are not for you. Fuck, they’re not for me either.”
“What happened?” I asked again.
“It was a bad fit. Johnny and I were friends, not lovers, so the logistics were already awkward. And the guy turned out to be a creep. He tried to film us. Not kidding. He had his phone propped on a bedside lamp, partially hidden by a towel. I saw a blinking light and shut the whole thing down. There’s not a graceful way to do that naked. We made the guy delete it, kicked him out, got dressed, and that was that. But nothing has been the same since, and it sucks. I feel like the bad influence buddy who finally gets what he had comin’ to him. My younger self would laugh his ass off,” he scoffed.
“How so?”
He finished chewing with a shrug. “I was kind of a goody-two-shoes. You might even say I was a geek.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I studied my ass off in school. My mom died when I was ten, and my dad checked out for a while afterward. I thought making the honor roll every year might get his attention. I was valedictorian in high school and graduated magna cum laude from Harvard before getting accepted to med school. I originally committed to Johns Hopkins, but my dad had a health scare at the time, so I went to University of Chicago to be close to home instead.”