backwoods shit his father had pounded into him. People could screw who they wanted to screw. But he was straight. The weird fantasies about Colby had been a fluke, some wires crossing because Colby had been the only person he’d trusted, and he’d wanted to be closer to him—had wanted those student/teacher boundaries keeping everything formal to disappear. That was all. As soon as he left home, those mixed-up feelings had faded away.
Keats liked women, bedded them regularly, and thoroughly enjoyed it. Plus, he’d been on the streets long enough and had gotten sick of married guys in expensive cars propositioning him with a fistful of cash and a hotel room key. Those offers had cured him of any thoughts of bisexuality.
But when he’d seen Colby step into his corner of the park tonight, all of that aversion seemed to fall away. A deep, whole-body response had taken over his brain. Keats was good at telling people to fuck off. And he sure as hell didn’t take direction from anyone anymore. But if Colby had taken him up on his sarcastic offer of a blow job for a couple hundred bucks, Keats would’ve gotten on his knees for him for no cash at all and figured out how to do it.
The thought scared the shit out of him. He should’ve never come here. He’d humiliated himself in front of Colby—well, Mr. Wilkes back then—once before, reading too much into things and making a fool of himself. That was enough for one lifetime. Plus, he knew that Colby had let him off easy tonight. They’d eaten at Waffle House in near-silence. But Keats had no doubt that the questions would come tomorrow. What Keats had done back then was unforgivable on so many levels. And Colby had taken heat for it even though the guy had done nothing wrong. Keats had seen the not-so-subtle references in the news coverage when everyone was looking for him back in Hickory Point. The young music teacher had fucked up and crossed lines with his poor, innocent student. Ha. If they’d only known the real story.
But now Keats was going to have to deal with the consequences if he stuck around.
Fuck.
That was the last thing he wanted to face. He eyed the neatly made bed in the middle of the room. The damn thing looked so fresh and inviting. Since he’d broken up with his last girlfriend a few weeks ago, he’d been back to paying week-to-week at the Texas Star Motel with the cash he made from the day labor jobs he picked up here and there. But tonight his ex’s punk-ass brother had caught up to him, demanding money
she
owed him. Keats hadn’t known Nina was running pills for her brother—or taking them. It’d been one of the reasons he’d broken it off with her. But now she was telling her brother, Hank, that Keats had taken off with her stash. And Hank wanted his grand back.
Hank and two other guys had cornered Keats earlier that day, catching him off guard. Keats knew how to fight, but he also wasn’t stupid enough to take on three dudes who were probably armed and amped up on crank. He’d handed over his rent money, and Hank had
kindly
offered to give him until Wednesday to make his next payment. Fucking psycho.
So now he had two days to come up with at least another couple hundred bucks for Hank and more for rent. And, of course, it’d rained this morning so the construction work he’d been picking up hadn’t needed guys today, which was why he’d resorted to his old standby of busking in the park. Playing his guitar was what he enjoyed most anyway. But until Colby had come along, he hadn’t earned enough to even pay for another week at the motel.
The cash he had made was tucked in his pocket. It was enough for one night at least. He could sneak out now and save himself the drama of tomorrow. It’d be a dick move, but he doubted Colby really wanted him staying there anyway. He’d taken him home out of guilt, like a stray. But if he left now, he would never know if Colby really planned on giving him five hundred bucks. That wouldn’t fix