To Seduce a Butler (Yaoi/BoyXBoy)

Chapter One--Rewrite

Author's Note: I keep saying I'm working on releasing TSAB as a full novel, and I am. Because y'all have been such good lovelies and are waiting patiently for me to finish, here's the first rewritten chapter. I hope you like it.

Chapter One

“Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four.” Michael Day finished counting the steps to the second floor, then stopped, turning his head to the right, listening. Even though he was three doors down from his room, he could still hear someone moving around in it. Michael gritted his teeth. After a long flight from Washington to Texas, all he wanted was a bed and at least four pillows surrounding him until he could find another warm body to fool around with later tonight, preferably something wearing fishnets and flowing out of D-cups.

The car ride back hadn’t been pleasant, either. His mom had announced that he was going to work with his grandfather on the next mayoral campaign. How exciting. Michael would be block walking with other out-of-work deadbeats to throw leaflets in mailboxes. The fundraisers should be more fun, with all the wine and drunk heiresses. That should be worth the tedious work of telling strangers just how Gerald White had kept Shadow Gulf’s crime rate down and business enterprises up.

Readjusting his duffel bag, Michael peeked his head around the doorframe. A kid stood in his bedroom, probably the new butler his mom had told him not to tease. What did she say his name was? Carlo? No, that was the old one. Sam. That was it. “Dear sweet Sammy,” she’d called him.

While Carlo had been short, Sam was tall. Judging by the fit of his jacket, Sam wasn’t filled out like a Greek god. He resembled a grunge rocker with a few years of heroin addiction in his rearview mirror. And Sam’s hair was long and blonde, like a surfer’s, definitely not proper butler length.

Speaking of proper butler, it was obvious this kid had never fluffed a pillow in his life. He picked up one by the corner, shaking it gingerly. The pillow remained flat. The kid then grabbed both corners and shook harder, his whole body trembling with the effort. If only Mother could have picked someone competent, but that would have meant someone older, and she wasn’t fond of butlers older than 27.

The kid was humming, something not off the current charts. The tune was—retro. Something their grandparents would have danced to back in the day. This caught Michael off guard. The previous butlers had been house candy for his mom, no high IQs required, just looks and biceps thrown in for good measure. This one might actually have a little personality.

Michael let his bag fall to the floor. “What are you humming?”

Sam spun around, eyes wide, the pillow he was fluffing falling from his hands. “Master Michael! I’m so sorry.” Sam exchanged the surprised look on his face for a smile. “I didn’t expect you back for at least another half hour.” 

Michael’s first impression of Sam was that his smile took up half his face. His blue eyes crinkled up in the corners, setting the stage for crow’s feet later in life, but Sam didn’t look like the kind of person who’d stop smiling for vanity’s sake. Sam was beautiful, and Michael had never used that word to describe a boy before.

His heart beat a little faster. Was he gay? He’d only ever been with girls. When given the choice, he’d always picked boobs over dudes, and this dude didn’t even really have features that made him stand out, except for that damn smile. Michael had always been a sucker for smiles. And those eyes. Could they be any bluer? It was like he held the sky in them.

Maybe you’re bi? his subconscious nagged.

Michael ignored it. “No traffic,” he explained, surveying his room. If his mom had made it her own in the past two years, it didn’t show. Sam had done a good job making sure all the main items were back in place. The bed had his old quilt, the one with the log cabins, and four pillows, just like he’d imagined. The dresser was bare except for two framed pictures of his grandparents, one on the left, the other on the right. Sam had even rehung Michael’s old Smashing Pumpkins posters. But something still felt off.