Lubes City (Steamy BL Stories)

Chapter 5

Ethan

I woke up the next morning with a stiff neck and the taste of yesterday’s coffee still in my mouth. The half-eaten sandwich sat on the counter where I had left it. My phone screen lit up with three new messages from Adrian.

*I know you need space. I’m here whenever you’re ready.*

*If you want to change therapists, I can help with that. No pressure.*

*I’m sorry, Ethan. Truly sorry Ethan.*

I read them while the coffee maker clicked and hissed. The smell of fresh grounds filled the small kitchen. My thumb hovered over the keyboard for a long time. Then I typed a short reply and sent it before I could delete the words.

*We need to talk. In person. Not as Alex, but as you. The real you*

His answer came within a minute. *Of course. Come to my office, I'll be free at 6 if that works. Or somewhere else if you prefer.*

I chose the office. I needed walls I already knew. On the way to the shoot I texted Lila.

*Something big happened with the

therapist. Can I call you later?*

She answered right away. *Anytime. Is everything okay Ethan?*

*Not really. We'll talk later.*

When I went for the shoot, the hotel lobby smelled like polished wood and fresh flowers. Soft music played from hidden speakers. I adjusted lights, framed shots of empty beds and wide windows, and nodded when the staff spoke. My mind stayed on the phone that had rung on Adrian’s desk the night before. Every time I checked my messages the screen stayed quiet.

At 5:45 I stood outside his building. The same glass door. The same elevator buttons that felt cool under my finger. I almost turned around to leave twice. Then I pushed the door open and rode up in silence. The elevator hummed. My reflection looked tired in the mirrored wall.

Adrian opened the office door himself. He wore a plain dark shirt. The usual sweater was gone. He looked tired around the eyes. “Thanks for coming,” he said. “Come in.”

I sat on the couch. The leather felt cool through my jeans. He stayed standing for a moment, then took his chair. No notebook this time.

“I don’t know where to start,” I said.

“That’s fine,” he answered. “We can start anywhere you want.”

I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “Why did you do it? The texts. The late nights. Pretending to be someone else.”

Adrian rubbed the back of his neck. “It started small. After one of your sessions you seemed really low. You mentioned you didn’t have many people to talk to at night. I told myself it was just checking in. Then you replied. And you kept replying. It felt easy. Too easy.”

“You should have stopped,” I said.

“I know.” His voice stayed quiet. “Every time I thought about ending it, I told myself one more night wouldn’t hurt. That was wrong. Completely wrong.”

I watched his face. “Did you enjoy it?”

He paused. His hands rested on the arms of the chair. “Yes. I did. Talking to you outside of this room felt different. Less formal. I actually looked forward to the messages. That’s the part I’m most ashamed of.”

The words sat between us for a while. I looked down at my hands. My fingers were pressed together so hard the knuckles had gone white. “I told you things I never said in here. About Marcus. About feeling lonely. About other things.”

“I remember,” he said. “All of it stayed between us. I never wrote it down. I never used it in sessions. But that doesn’t make it okay.”

Outside a car horn was heard then it faded. The air in the room felt still. I waited a few seconds before I spoke again. “What happens now? Can I even keep seeing you as a therapist?”

Adrian shook his head. “No. Not after this. The boundary is broken. Though, I can refer you to someone good. Someone I trust. I’ll help with the transfer if you want.”

I nodded. That part made sense. The rest still sat heavy in my chest. “And the chatting? Whatever that was between us.”

He met my eyes. “That’s up to you. If you never want to hear from me again, I’ll respect that. If you want to talk as two people who already know each other too well, I’m open to that too. No pressure. No expectations.”

I let out a short breath that sounded louder than I meant. “You make it sound simple.”

“It’s not,” he said. “I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours thinking about how badly I handled this. I’m a therapist. I know the rules and I broke them. I'm really sorry.”

I stood and walked to the window. Streetlights had come on now as the weather had gotten dark. The glass felt cool under my fingertips. “I felt something for Alex,” I said without turning around. “I looked forward to the messages. I thought about them during the day. And now I find out it was you. The same person who sat across from me every week…”

“I know,” Adrian said behind me. “I felt something too. That’s why I kept going. I should have stopped the second I noticed.”

I turned back to face him. “So what do we do with that?”

He stood as well. “We don’t have to decide tonight. You can take time. Talk to Lila. Think it through. If you want to meet for coffee next week as just two people, we can try that. If not, I’ll understand.”

I studied his face. The same hazel eyes. The same steady voice. Only difference was the professional wall was gone. “I need think it through firsth,” I said. “And I need a few days.”

“That’s fair.” He walked to his desk, wrote something on a small card, and held it out. “My personal number. The one I used as Alex. You already have it, but in case.”

I took the card. Our fingers did not touch. The paper felt smooth and slightly warm from his hand. “I’m still angry,” I said.

“You should be,” he answered. “I earned that.”

We stood there for another moment. Then I picked up my bag. The strap dug into my skin as I placed it on my shoulder. “I’ll text you when I’m ready. Or I won’t. I don’t know yet.”

“Okay,” he said. “Either way, take care of yourself, Ethan.”

I left without another word. The hallway felt longer than usual. Outside, the evening air cooled my face and carried the smell of rain on pavement. I walked two blocks before I pulled out my phone and called Lila.

She answered on the second ring. “Hey. What’s going on?”

I told her everything while I kept walking. The call. The phone lighting up on his desk when I called Alex. The talk we just had. My voice stayed even until the last part. She listened all the way through without cutting in.

“Wow,” she said when I finished. “That’s a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“How do you feel right now?”

I stopped at a corner and watched the traffic light change. “Confused. Angry. A little stupid for not noticing sooner. And still interested. Which makes me feel worse.”

Lila was quiet for a second. I could hear soft music in the background on her end. “Okay. First, you did nothing wrong. He crossed the line. Second, the fact that you still feel something doesn’t make you stupid. Feelings are messy. Third, take the days he offered. Don’t rush a decision.”

“I keep thinking about the messages,” I said. “They helped. A lot. Now I don’t know if I can separate the help from the lie.”

“You don’t have to separate it tonight,” she said. “Come over. I’ll order food. We can talk or not talk. Whatever you need.”

I agreed. The walk to her place took twenty minutes. Her building smelled like laundry detergent and someone’s cooking when I stepped into the hallway.

Lila opened the door in socks and an old sweatshirt. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. “Hey,” she said, and stepped aside so I could come in.

The apartment smelled like garlic and warm bread. A takeout bag sat on the counter, still closed. Soft light came from the lamp in the corner. She closed the door behind me and nodded toward the couch. “Sit. Food just got here.”

I sat. Lila carried the bag over, set it on the low table, and opened the containers. Steam rose from the rice and the chicken. The smell of soy sauce and ginger filled the small living room. She handed me a pair of chopsticks and a paper plate.

“Eat first,” she said. “Then we can talk more if you want.”

I took a bite. The chicken was still hot and slightly sweet. We ate in silence for a few minutes. The only sounds were the soft clink of chopsticks and the low hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

Lila wiped her fingers on a napkin. “So, he admitted he enjoyed the chats.”

I nodded and set my plate down. “Yeah. He didn’t try to hide it.”

“And he offered to meet as just two people.”

“Yeah.”

She leaned back against the couch cushions. “How does that sit with you right now?”

I stared at the open containers. A bit of sauce had dripped onto the table. “I don’t know. Part of me wants to say yes just to see what happens. Part of me wants to walk away and never look at that number again.”

Lila reached for her water glass. The ice shifted and clinked. “Both of those make sense. You don’t have to pick tonight.”

“I keep replaying the moment the phone rang,” I said. “The way his face changed. The way my name showed up on his screen.”

She nodded slowly. “That would stay with anyone.”

We talked a little more while the food cooled. She told me about a client who had sent her the wrong files three times that day. I told her about the hotel rooms that all looked the same after a while. At one point she got up, brought two beers from the fridge, and set one in front of me without asking. The bottle felt cold and wet against my palm.

Later she walked me to the door. “Text me tomorrow,” she said. “Even if it’s just to say you’re still thinking.”

“I will.”

Outside, the air had cooled further. I walked home with my hands in my pockets and the card from Adrian still in my jacket.

Back in my apartment I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the card again. The handwriting was neat and even. I set it on the nightstand next to my keys and turned off the light.

The room stayed quiet except for the soft sound of traffic outside. I lay on my back and watched the ceiling. The conversation in the office kept playing in my head, his voice when he admitted he enjoyed the chats, the way he did not try to excuse it, the quiet offer to meet as two people instead of therapist and patient.

I still did not know what I would decide. Not yet.