The Price of Love (Boyxboy)

3

alex p.o.v.

I slept restlessly. After all I had done to him, Miles had been willing to just...let it go? It didn't make any sense. Any sleep I got was riddled with nightmares, and I woke quickly in a cold sweat. Eventually, I gave up and tried to work on some things for the company.

A pounding on the door woke me. At some point last night, I had slumped over my desk. I peeled my face off the papers in front of me. I rubbed my eyes, and stretched, wincing when my back stiffened. The pounding continued, and I reluctantly stood up, shuffling through the apartment to the door.

I pulled the door open to reveal a man around my age. He was wearing jeans that had been ripped so many times, they were practically holes with some jeans. A skin-tight shirt showed off his muscular torso. He had traces of smudged eyeliner on his cheeks that had been hastily wiped away. I could smell his cologne from here.

"No," I said, and shut the door.

I walked away, expecting him to leave, but the pounding started again. Frustrated, I ran my hands through my hair. I sighed, and opened the door again.

"What do you want?" I asked him in a resigned tone.

"I...I just wanted to fill out an application," he said. He sounded nervous. I tried to ignore the uncomfortable clench in my stomach when he spoke.

"Application for what?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing my arms.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "To be your new roomate," he said, his voice softer.

I almost laughed. He thought he could just march up to my door and fill out an application to be my roomate? "Sorry, I'm not available right now. Try again later," I said, and tried to close the door. Unfortunately, his foot was already there. I yanked the door open, getting angry.

"Go away! This is a bad time!" I shouted. The man flinched. He looked around my apartment which had become littered with beer bottles and shattered glass.

"I can see that," he said quietly. His blue eyes met mine, and I gulped, uncomfortable. "I don't have anywhere else to go," he said, his voice still quiet. I sighed, and ran my hands through my hair again.

"Alright, come in I guess," I said. He followed me in, closing the door gently behind him. I moved some old pizza and a few bottles off the couch and sat down. He picked up an empty vodka bottle off a chair across from me. He set the bottle down on the coffee table in front of me.

"So," I said nervously. "What's your name?"

"Dean," he replied. His fingers nervously played with the tassles on the pillow he had set in his lap.

"Alex Reynolds, nice to meet you. What kind of work do you do?" I asked. I was beginning to get bored.

"Sex work," Dean answered. My gaze snapped up to him. He said it without any shame. He seemed completely comfortable with who he was. I was instantly jealous.

"Like..." I trailed off.

"I'm a rent-boy," Dean said, laughing. He quickly stopped when he noticed me staring. I wished he hadn't.

"A what?" I asked, confused.

"Male prostitute," he clarified.

"And you um...you work with..." I was afraid to ask. Of all the people I had interviewed, he honestly seemed like the most well rounded. I'm pretty sure that was a bad sign.

"Men mostly. I've worked with some women, but I prefer men," Dean replied. I shifted uncomfortably, while on the other hand, he seemed completely fine with talking about it. He could have been talking about the weather for all he cared.