14 • The Confrontation

I'm vain, always have been, but it's been a long time since I've taken this much time to groom myself. I shave very carefully until I can't see any hair follicles on my face and spend almost ten minutes trying to get my hair perfect.

I put on my favorite pants, those that hug my ass like a lover and a white shirt with a couple of buttons open so they show my nipples again.

I don't know what's going to happen when I see Bernabeu again, but at least I look beautiful. And I smell good.

I arrive at my favorite restaurant to pick up the food I ordered and then drive to Lambert, one of the companies I grew up in as if it were my third home.

When I arrive, Vic greets me with a genuine smile. I'd go over to give him a hug if I wasn't carrying so much stuff.

"Hi, Pretty Boy," I greet as I arrive at his large desk that almost spans the entire perimeter of the building. Vic is the face of the company and I must admit he is a very pretty face, "How are you?"

"Incredibly well, Pinky, how are you?" He answers, grabbing a temporary pass for me without having to ask, "I saw you yesterday, kissing Junior."

"It was a dare game," I reply, rolling my eyes at his look of skepticism. One of the reasons he sent me packing was my close relationship with Cain, or 'Junior' as they call him around here, "Can you help me open? I have my hands full."

"Sure," he replies and reaches across the desk to put the card in the scanner, exposing his round ass to my view. I can't help but take a couple of seconds to stare at it before I pass. I still miss that ass sometimes, "You don't change, Timothy."

"It's a compliment. You know I've always loved your sweet a-" I stop before I finish my comment just because I run face to face with the person I came to look for. A person who surely understood what I was going to say anyway, "Hello, Bernabeu."

"What are you doing here?" he asks with a frown on his forehead. I open my mouth to answer, but he stops me, "I don't know why I asked, I don't care."

My mouth falls open in shock and Vic hides a laugh, putting on his serious face as Beau approaches him.

"Can you give this to Samuel, my driver? He'll be here in a few minutes to pick it up," he asks Vic with a pleasant voice and even a smile. From here I can't see what he's giving him, "Thanks, Vic."

"No problem," Vic replies, sounding out of breath. Of course Vic likes him, Beau is just his type. I roll my eyes and finally react, heading for the elevator hoping to escape from here before Beau catches up to me, but as I wait for the elevator to come down, the unwanted one arrives at my side.

The silence between us is awkward and it only gets worse as we enter the elevator and realize we're both going to the seventh floor. Beau is tense and staring straight ahead, I could almost bet he doesn't even breathe the entire time we are locked in together.

Once we arrive I expect Beau to disappear from my side but he walks beside me until we reach the hallway to Cain's office and apparently his own office, right across the hall.

Thanks to the glass walls, I can still see him without a problem.

Cain is on the phone so he just waves at me. I leave the bags of takeout on the couch by the door and head towards Beau's office. His brow furrows again when he sees me arrive and bang on his open door three times.

"What do you want now?"

"Hey, it's Timothy. May I come in?" I ask just to annoy him, which works. He rolls his eyes hard and nods even though I know he wishes he could say no to me. I close the door behind me and approach him, ignoring how his eyebrows furrow more and more with each step I take towards him, "I'm sorry for thinking you're homophobic."

Beau looks every which way, looking confused and like he's looking for someone else to share his confusion. Then he shrugs.

"Don't worry, it's all right."

"It's not all right," I continue, shaking my head and moving even closer until I reach his desk and sit down on it, bringing one leg up to lean my elbow on it and intimidate him with my pose, "I'm so sorry, because now I know I was wrong. You're not homophobic, you're just hiding something and you're afraid I'll find out."

"What?" he asks, scooting back in his chair until he hits the wall. He couldn't get as far away as he wanted to, "What could I be hiding, and why would you find out? Seriously, Timothy, you have mental issues. Not everything is about you."

"I know, but this," I point several times from him to me, looking manic. Maybe he's right, but I refuse to accept it, "Is about me. I'm not stupid, Beau, you can't fool me. There's a reason you were afraid of me as soon as you saw me and I'm going to find out."

"Another..."

"Shut up," I interrupt him again and his eyes narrow with real annoyance. He's starting to get angry, "Maybe you already know this, because I think you know me better than you should, but I always get what I want. And if I want answers, I'm going to get them. I will analyze every step and every word I hear from your mouth until I find out what you are hiding. And when I find out… I'm going to destroy you."

Overkill? Maybe, but it's an intimidation technique. And I'm not lying.

Beau stays silent for twelve seconds, his face completely blank and eyes vacant as if he's not present in this conversation, but then he returns and gives me a pleased look, a smile that confuses me.

"One would think you were obsessed with me, Pinky," he whispers, and my heart stops.

Beau

Pinky's confidence disappears for a second and I don't regret saying that. I know that in this case I'm the one who should keep my composure and not let him bother me, but it's impossible.

Pinky came into my office as if he owned the company, sat on my desk with one foot up and tried to intimidate me with his posture, threatening me. I can't let him walk all over me just because I'm afraid of what might happen between us.

So, ignoring my own rules, I went back over our future for some hint of something that might upset him. And I found it. One moment when he's naked under me in my bed and admits that during our first encounters, he became obsessed with me and never told anyone, not even his therapist.

I know his obsessive personality is a problem he keeps on the down low and doesn't share with anyone but his family, so I knew I was going to shut him up.

I enjoy his surprised silence much more than I should and I get up from my chair, standing taller than him.

"I accept your apology, Pinky," I say quietly, looking down at him as he remains silent and I get closer just to make him back up, which works. Pinky backs up on the desk, looking up at me with his mouth ajar, breathing heavily.

He looks... just like it looks after I...

I pull away, shaking my head slightly. That's the problem with accessing my future memories so often, I start to see everything much more clearly than I should. Now I can't see Pinky breathing without thinking of all those memories where he's underneath me, moaning and sweating.

Fuck.