Free Cover Up by KC Burn Page A

switch. Ivan wasn’t lying. He didn’t have a lot of stuff. His wife must be a real bitch.
    Sitting on the edge of the bed, he picked up the thriller lying on the bedside table and glanced at the back cover copy. Didn’t sound too bad; maybe he’d ask to borrow it later. A few other books and knickknacks sat on the squat bookshelf beside the closet. A briefcase sat on the desk with nothing else on it. Biting his lip, he traced a fingertip over the brass drawer handle of the bedside table. He couldn’t open that, could he? Did he really want proof of Ivan’s straightness in the form of naked boob pictures?
    Instead, he stood and flung open the closet. Two boxes were stacked on the floor, and despite the small size of the closet, the few shirts and suits Ivan had didn’t take up the whole space.
    After taking a quick look at sizes—why, he didn’t know—Parker moved on to the dresser. He sniffed at the aftershave. Nothing special, nothing fancy, but it was definitely the source of Ivan’s compelling scent. Must be hard to start again at thirty-four, with nothing. If Ivan ended up being a good roommate, Parker might reconsider the rent, maybe drop it to give him a chance to get back on his feet. As Neil was so fond of saying, it wasn’t like Parker needed a roommate. His mother’s trust had been more than enough to pay for his expenses, as well as utilities and property taxes. He didn’t have any mortgage, as both the house and cottage had been in the family for a long time. At twenty-two, thanks to his mother’s savvy financial sense, he was in much better shape than Ivan.
    Back by the desk, he listened carefully for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Nothing out of the ordinary reached his ears, although this close to both downtown and the university campus, there was plenty of background noise.
    The insatiable curiosity about his roommate battled and won over any hint of shame, and Parker opened the briefcase. Unexpectedly, there was no laptop, merely a haphazard mess of files, blank contracts, and actuarial tables. Boring. What did he expect, though? The most interesting stuff had to be in the bedside table, and it sang a siren song through Parker’s brain. He wanted to look but knew he’d be disappointed if he did.
    He stuffed the papers back in the briefcase and took another glance at the nightstand, but the next-door neighbor’s dog barking convinced him to get out of Ivan’s room. Irritating his new roommate was not his intention, assuming Ivan didn’t get freaked by Parker being gay. Probably he should have that conversation sooner rather than later.
    Scooting across to his room, he quickly shut the door behind him and waited. After several minutes, during which the front door failed to open, a sudden yawn caught him by surprise. Pathetic to be so tired at ten in the evening, but weed usually made him lethargic, even the few tokes he’d taken. Ivan might be out on a date or something and could be gone for hours. Or he could have taken a walk to the nearest convenience store and be back in minutes.
    With a sigh, he stripped down and sat on the bed beside his own bedside table. The second drawer down held lube and condoms. He’d never bought a magazine—seemed a little silly when much better stuff could be had on the Internet, so the only potential indicator of his orientation was the plug and dildo. His Internet history told a much more detailed story. Some days, it was worth the effort to make use of his toys, but most times it was just depressing. He pulled out the box of condoms. Sealed, and in no danger of expiring, but also in no danger of being used either. Also depressing.
    Probably he should take Neil up on his offer to introduce him to some guys, but the men Parker was interested in—his mind shied away from an image of Ivan—weren’t at Neil’s clubs and he didn’t know how to pick one up. Parker ran a finger over the simple and minimalist contents of his sex drawer. Inside, he was