Is this guy for real? First, he ignores the urinal code, and now he’s making small talk while I’m holding my dick? I don’t look over. Just grunt. Something that says, ‘I’m busy here. Leave me alone.’
“Yeah, same,” he continues, like I’ve given him an actual response. “Just trying to clear my head. Sometimes the road’s the only place for that.”
He’s got a point. But still. This is officially the weirdest piss I’ve ever taken.
I glance over. Big guy. Not quite my six-four, but close. Wider through the shoulders, too. Messy blond hair, a few days’ worth of scruff. White T-shirt stretched tight across his chest, worn jeans. Mid-twenties, maybe.
“Are you looking at my dick, dude?” He’s smirking.
“What? No!” I snap my head forward, face going hot. “What is wrong with you?”
“Relax.” He chuckles. “I’m messing with you.”
“Yeah, well, don’t,” I mutter, zipping up with more force than necessary. I walk to the sink without looking at him. My hands are trembling a little as I wash them. No idea why. The guy shakes off, zips up, and steps to the sink right next to mine. Of course he does.
“You ever heard of personal space?” I ask, catching his eye in the mirror.
“Sure.” He pumps some soap into his hands. “Doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly.” He smiles, and for a second, I forget what I was going to say. His eyes are a really light shade of blue, almost silver, crinkling at the corners. I’ve never seen eyes like that on a guy before.
I shake my head and grab a paper towel. “No offense, man, but I’m not really in a friendly mood.”
“None taken.” He rinses his hands. “Maybe I can help with that.”
“Excuse me?”
He turns and leans against the counter, crossing his arms. His biceps strain against his sleeves. “You look tense, man. I’ve got a cure for that.”
“Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m just trying to take a piss and get back on the road.” I toss the paper towel in the bin.
“It’s a simple offer,” he says, those blue eyes boring into me. “You open those jeans up again, I’ll get on my knees, and I’ll suck you off. Right here.”
2
DOMINIC
“What did you just say to me?” I make myself bigger, shoulders squaring up. Old instinct. The kind that worked on every drunk idiot in college who wanted to start something. He doesn’t flinch.
“You heard me.” He leans against the sink with a half-smile on his face, calm as anything, like he’s waiting for a bus. Those pale eyes don’t leave mine.
“I’m not gay, dude.”
“So? I’m not offering you my hand in marriage.” He shrugs. “It’s just a blowjob. Looks like you need one.”
“Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that.”
“Alright.” He uncrosses his arms and straightens up. “Too bad. Would’ve loved to taste that big cock of yours.”
“You...what?So you’ve been looking?”
“Honestly, it was kinda hard not to notice.” His gaze drops for a fraction of a second, then snaps back up. “Real nice piece of equipment you’re packing there.”
How can this guy be so goddamn casual? Never in my twenty-eight years has a man propositioned me in a publicrestroom.Never.And I’ve been to a gay bar once with my college roommate.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Cheeks flushed, jaw tight. My dark hair is a mess from the drive, and I’ve got stubble that’s bordering on full-on beard.
I should be disgusted. Angry. I should deck him. I should knock that smug look right off his face. But I don’t. I stand there and take it. Just like I stood in my own doorway and watched my girlfriend get plowed by some other dude.
And the worst part is, a treacherous part of me is flattered. The part that’s been feeling small and emasculated for weeks is puffing its chest out because some guy in a gas station bathroom thinks I have a nice dick. It’s pathetic, really. Truly pathetic.