The first two roommate prospects Mike had interviewed weren't very promising. He was not going to live with a stoner, and just knew he'd be nuts within a week if he accepted the chatterbox.

He was listening to Paul Simon sing Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard when his third and last interview for the day knocked on the door. He plastered on a friendly smile and opened the door.

The smile froze on Mike's face. No way.

He collected himself, smiled up at the green-eyed, sandy-haired Adonis standing in his doorway and managed to speak. "Hi, I'm Mike Evans. You must be Wes."

"Yes. Hello, I'm Wes Shaw. I hope the room is still available?"

"Sure is. Come on in."

Wes smiled and stepped inside. "Thanks."

Did Wes remember him? God, hopefully not. He'd been so flustered and deeply closeted when they'd crossed paths back in college that Wes had probably thought he was a complete fool.

Mike took a deep breath and launched into his spiel. "Well, Wes, we already talked about price on the phone. The bedroom is furnished, but if you have your own furniture, I can put that stuff down in my storage unit. I'm not using that space for anything else anyway, so it doesn't matter to me either way. How about I just show you around, then you can tell me if you're still interested?"

The entryway opened directly into the living room. Mike motioned with his arm and continued. "This is the living room." Brilliant, Mike. He took a calming breath and pushed on. "It's decent-sized, I guess. I like that it's kinda separated from the bedrooms by the kitchen and eating area, so that's good if one of us is up and the other's trying to sleep."

The living room was decent-sized. All of the rooms were. Not to mention colorful. Not the walls -- they were all basic apartment white -- but the furniture and accessories were all vibrantly colored. He had a red couch covered with blue and yellow pillows, a royal blue recliner, and a crazy-patterned, multi-colored, overstuffed chair, in addition to a small black entertainment center and blue-painted bookcase.

Apparently his decorating style didn't faze Wes. There was a spark of curiosity in his eyes, but his smile was sincere.

Excerpt No. 02:

Brandon laughed. "So he didn't have a clue when he moved in?"

"No. He didn't even know I was gay, let alone that I'd fantasized about him for years."

"What did he think of that?"

"Well, I downplayed it a little. But yeah, I told him I used to dream about him. Shit, it's no fair questioning someone in an afterglow haze."

Devon snorted. "Well, at least it didn't scare him away."

"He thought it was kinda funny. Didn't laugh too hard, though. Like I said…I downplayed it."

Devon smiled at him. "Do you think you've found Mr. Right?"

Mr. Right? Shit. "I think I've found Mr. Stud-Muffin-Live-in-Fuck-Buddy."

Brandon raised his eyebrows. "Not ready for more?"

"Me? Nah. You two are great together and I do want that some day, but for now? I don't know. I kinda like my life."

Brandon just smiled. Mike knew that smile. It was his 'yeah, right' smile. It was right, though. Mike liked his freedom.

"Well, we want to meet Mr. Stud-Muffin-Live-in-Fuck-Buddy. How about Friday…come over for cards and games?"

"Cool. Wes doesn't know anyone here yet, so I'm sure he'll be up for it."

"Great."

"I've gotta run. He said he'd be planning dinner for six. I'm lovin' this week he's off. It's great coming home and having dinner pretty much waiting for me."

Devon laughed. "Sounds like you might like this life better than the old one, Mike."

Shit. It wasn't like that. Was it?

***

The phone buzzed in his pocket as he pulled into his parking space. He turned off the engine and looked at the display. Randall.

"Hey!"

"Mike, hey, how's it going?"

"Great! I got a new roommate."

"Not the chatterbox?"

Mike laughed. "No. The last guy I saw on Sunday. He's cool."

"Good. Will I see you again at Romeo's Friday?"

"No. Goin' to Brandon and Devon's. Maybe Saturday, though."

"Damn. I'll be visiting family."

"Oh, well, another time then."

"You still gonna be able to bring hookups home with you or is it too early to tell?"

Shit. Well, once they figured things out, it would probably be okay. Wes could, too. That wouldn't bother him, would it? Shit. Would it? "Better not for now. See how things go first."

"That's cool."

"Well, I'd better let you go, Randall. I just pulled in at home and I think Wes'll have dinner about ready."

"Awesome. 'Kay…later."

He hung up and walked up to the apartment. Dinner was about ready. Smelled like it, anyway. He knew he'd be back to doing most of the cooking once Wes' job started, but this was pretty sweet in the meantime.

"Hey. I'm home."

Wes peeked out of the kitchen. "Good timing. Hope you're hungry."

"Famished."

Wes laughed. Damn, he had a nice laugh. "Good. Come on."

Dinner was fabulous. Hanging with Wes for the evening was fabulous. The sex was fabulous. Less frantic this time, too. Fuck. Wes was fabulous. Fuck. What was he getting into?