Free Shameless by Tori Carrington

on his mind.
    Gauge lay his guitar case on his unmade bed and opened the top, easily pulling the instrument out and placing it on a stand. He could count on one hand how many times Kevin had been at his place. Hell, he hadn’t been to Kevin’s place all that often, either. He figured it was because they all saw each other enough at work.
    That and he was sure that his laid-back environs made the other man itch. While Kevin’s uptight house, still boasting framed photos of him growing up along the staircase, and his mother’s bovine knickknacks in a glass case in the living room, made Gauge want to jump out of his skin.
    “Who wants another night?” he pretended to play dumb.
    At least Kevin stopped pacing.
    Truth was, all night Gauge had watched his friend stand with Nina at the bar, laughing and talking and ignoring the band and the rest of the patrons.
    “Come on, Kev, we’ve talked about this. We knew she’d try to alter the deal. It’s just the way she’s made. And it’s the entire reason we came up with this to begin with. I mean, if she were capable of rational decisions once she slept with a guy, then we would never have proposed what we did.”
    Kevin looked like hell warmed over. He’d run his hands through his hair so many times he’d probably pulled a good half of it out. And it appeared as if he hadn’t gotten more than two hours’ sleep at any one stretch over the past few days.
    Gauge sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled his guitar to his knee. Even though he’d played pretty much the entire night, there was something about the weight of the instrument in his hands that made the night not feel so cold or his bed so empty.
    Of course, it would have been better if a willing female were there, but in her absence, his guitar was the next best thing.
    “How can you be so nonchalant about this?” Kevin asked, finally sitting down in the single ladder-back chair in the corner.
    Gauge strummed a few chords of Clapton’s “Layla.” “How can you be so serious?”
    What he was leaving out was that nonchalant was his middle name, while serious could precede Kevin’s name. Serious Kevin. But truth was Gauge was tired of this. And was now questioning the intelligence of having gone through with their plan.
    “Look, Kevin, I understand that this is taking a little longer for her to get over. I expected her to give up two days in. But she hasn’t.” He spun his guitar and put it back on the rack, clenching his hands between his knees. Tonight he could have had his pick of who to bring back to his apartment. And at least three of the women would have been a welcome, if temporary, addition. But he hadn’t been interested.
    “Can I get you a beer?” he asked as he pushed from the bed.
    “No. Thanks.”
    Gauge stepped to the small kitchen off the main room and opened the refrigerator. As custom dictated, he considered the old appliance’s meager offerings. Leftover pizza still in the box that had been there Lord knew how long. A carton of moo-shoo pork. A milk bottle that boasted maybe a swallow that might choke him. And beer.
    He grabbed a bottle and popped the top on the lip of the counter.
    “So you think she’s mistaking sex for a relationship again.”
    Kevin had followed him into the small room and leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. Gauge took a deep pull from the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m saying that I’m almost afraid it’s going to take her six months to get over a one-night stand.”
    Kevin flinched.
    “Come on, Kev, both you and I know that’s all it was. A one-night stand designed to keep her from mistaking sex for a relationship. You should be the last one who’s surprised that she’s asking for another night. We’ve both watched her over the past three years. Studied her cycles.”
    Kevin opened the refrigerator door, considered the contents much as Gauge had, grimaced and then grabbed a beer, as well. He