Every Boy's Nightmare - PART ONE of Guns & Roses

Square Up, Baby

Hours later Chris was pining. Caleb had left him with his bags, in front of his apartment, with a strict order to call Mikael, and stop pussy-footing around on it, and then curled his damn hair with real intense passion in the form of a kiss that knocked his socks right off while he was plastered to his front door.

It had left him a breathless wreck of a man, watching the blonde stroll towards the elevators with a light step, and barely managed to get his key in the doorlock.

Holy Hannah, but the man was on fire.

It was about five, by the time he gathered the nerve to call Mikael.

He posted up on his couch, heart hammering, pulse fluttering, his gut sinking into the floor, and that earlier anger had fled in favor of this brand new anxiety confronting him. Now, he was just nervous. Screamingly so.

It rang twice before that deep voice came on. He sounded mild and unhurried, and it was a little concerning.

“Christian.”

“Hey.” He slumped back and massaged his temple. Damn it, but why was this so hard? “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.” There was a pause and the sound of shuffling papers. “I’m just waiting on your fucking call all week.” The mild snap there was subtle, but clearly, he was a little irritated.

“I’m sorry.” It was automatic and Chris instantly cursed himself. “I was going to call sooner.”

“I’m sure you were.” He laughed and it didn’t sound exactly humored, more like he was about to be an asshole, and the sound prickled Christian’s nape. “It is what it is, Chris. What are you doing right now?”

Christian sat up a little fluttery, glanced around, and shifted in his seat. “Right now? Um, nothing, why?”

“I figured I’d come get you.” Fuck. “We can hit up Variskanish’s or maybe go down to that new spot in the Warehouse district.”

“Um…not Torin’s?” Please no. His anxiety was now kicking, and he really, really needed to get his shit together right then.

“No. That one place…I think it was called Mario’s or some shit.”

“Mikael…”

“I can make us a reservation by seven.” He sounded distracted now, and Christian started to break on it.

“Mikael, I can’t do anything tonight.” This was, perhaps, already the greatest of all debacles and it was murdering him. He flexed a hand out on his knee, realized it was trembling a bit, and exhaled shakily. “I have something else I was doing.”

The pause there was so long Christian had to pull the phone back to make sure he hadn’t been hung up on, but no, the call log was still counting the seconds, loud and clear. He put it back to his ear and asked uncertainly, “Are you still there?”

“Yeah.” Now, now he sounded agitated. “I just don’t know why the fuck you’re lying to me.” Christian sat up at that snap of tone. “What the fuck are you doing tonight, but just avoiding me?” He laughed bitterly on the other end. “Yeah, no, babe. I’ll be there soon.”

Christian was on his feet. “Mikael, I’m not fucking lying to you. I have other plans, damn it.”

“With who?” He sounded incredulous, and Christian wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt his feelings, just a little more than they already were where he was concerned. Then, “Are you fucking going out with Caleb tonight?” He didn’t sound the slightest bit pleased. “Fuck that. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a fucking week, Christian. Cancel that shit, get dressed. We need to figure this out.”