Chapter One
1196 Words
CHAPTER ONE
“Come on, Colton. Just think about it. You would only have to do it until you found a good job. Then you’d have all the money you need to pay your bills. Maybe you could even catch up on your student loans and get back in school. I know you’ve wanted to do that for a while.”
Mason’s voice grated on Colton’s nerves. This conversation was already starting to annoy him and they had barely begun to talk about it. “I’m not becoming a prostitute, Mason!”
“That’s not what this is about?”
“Really? Because it sounds as if they’re looking for someone to f**k women.”
“Like you have a problem with that? You’re always out and about chasing pussy.”
Colton growled in Mason’s direction. What did he know about anything? In particular, what did he know about f*****g women? Mason was the gayest person he knew. He wouldn’t touch a p***y with a ten-foot pole, even if it was wrapped in cellophane and he was wearing a hazmat suit.
Furthermore, Mason was the last person to judge anyone about going out. He was a homebody who would rather stay in on the weekend and play video games than have a few beers with his friends. He chose Call of Duty over getting a piece of ass every time.
“I’m not answering an ad in the paper for a fuckboy position,” he said.
“Why not? You could totally be a fuckboy.” Mason wiggled his brows at him and then laughed. “You’re hot.” He raked his eyes over Colton’s half-naked body as he spoke. “Totally hot. Your jet black hair, those ice-blue eyes, those abs, and the dips at the bottom of your-”
“Stop being a fag,” he interrupted him, letting the conversation die there. A long silence stretched between them before Colton’s curiosity got the best of him. “What’s a fuckboy anyway?” he asked.
“Uh...” Mason frowned a little as he thought about it for a few seconds. “I think a fuckboy is a man who gets women to have s*x with him with the promise of a relationship he never intends to deliver on. He wants the s*x without the commitment. That sounds familiar, right? I mean, if you think about it, you're halfway there already.” He laughed out loud, making Colton want to elbow him in the face.
“I’m not a fuckboy,” he growled, his irritation showing through. “And can we just stop saying the word fuckboy please? It’s obnoxious.” Colton got up from the couch and walked off, throwing a glance at his friend over his shoulder as he went. “Want another drink?”
“Sure,” he said without looking up from the paper. “Let me look up the Urban Dictionary definition of what a-”
“Don’t f*****g say it,” Colton yelled from the kitchen, grabbing two beers and scanning the fridge for anything to snack on. Mason always thought up stupid ideas, and once they were in his head he wouldn't shut up about them. When it came to s**t like this Mason liked to live vicariously through him. Plus, he got really excited whenever his love life took a tragic turn because he could write all about it on his queer blog.
Mason glanced up when he walked back into the living room and pointed to his laptop screen. “A fuckboy is-”
“Stop.” Colton slammed the two beers down on the coffee table and flopped onto the sofa, then jammed his finger down onto the remote. He had paused a fight when Mason started talking about all of this fuckboy nonsense. Now, he wished he hadn’t.
Mason started again, ignoring Colton’s grumbling like he normally did. “A fuckboy is a man who sleeps with women with no intention of having a relationship with them. In other words, a fuckboy is a player.”
Colton took a drink and shook his head. “I highly doubt that’s what they’re looking for. What they want is a w***e. A male w***e. Someone who will f**k women. Probably the women who are too pathetic or too f****d up to get laid on their own. Or too old to get some dick.” Colton shivered as he thought about that. Just the idea of f*****g a seventy year-old woman for a few hundred dollars grossed him out. “Ugh, I can’t even think about it.”
Mason grabbed for his beer and pointed it at him as he laughed. “You’ve f****d worse. Remember Heather?”
“Stop before you start,” Colton said as he held up a hand and cringed, feeling his stomach turn. “Of course I remember her. How could I not?” He shuddered at the thought of her. He couldn’t shake her nastiness from his hazy memory no matter how hard he tried. And he had tried... multiple times. He might not remember the entire encounter, but how could he forget her?
It was his birthday and he had celebrated it by going out to a club with some of his buddies. He had so many free beers pressed into his hand that he was drunk off his ass in no time. In his alcohol induced stupor and in the dim lights of the club he couldn’t see straight. He would have to have been blind to think she was hot. She had to have been at least five hundred pounds, greasy blonde hair, weird teeth, and an odd laugh that sounded like a lamb about to be slaughtered. His friends had encouraged him to talk to her just to f**k with him. They had convinced him she was the hottest piece of ass in the club, and he was so far gone that he believed them. The next morning he had woken up with one hell of a hangover, a fat stalker, and a f****d up story that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Why? Why would they do that to him, he thought as he growled and turned his attention over to Mason. Who needed enemies when you had friends like that?
“I’m not answering the ad, so drop it,” he told him once more. He wasn’t applying for a job as a male w***e.
“Fine,” Mason said, finally giving in. “But keep this in mind next month when your bills are due and you can’t pay for them. Or when we get thrown out into the street because I can’t pay for your share of the rent. I’m not made of money, Colt.”
Colton nodded as he ran his fingers through his black hair. “I know. I’ll get a job before then. I’ll check at the gym tomorrow when I workout because I’m pretty sure they have a trainer position open. It won’t pay me what I was making uptown, but at least it’ll be a little income until I can find something permanent.”
“True.” Mason tossed the paper onto the coffee table and then sat back to watch the fight. “Just in case you want it, it’s-“
“I DON’T!”
Mason held his hands out in front of him in surrender. “All right. I’m just saying,” he grumbled as he glanced over at his friend. “Damn.”
Colton couldn’t help but shake his head. Mason was impossible when he got started. “Well don’t. I’m tired of hearing it.”
“Fine.” He said.
“Fine.” Colton repeated and then stared at him for a few moments, hoping he’d get the hint.
- Writer
