alieicanlivewith (3 page)

All the way to the mall he fretted.
Am I too early? Am
I too late? Will the guy even show? Do I really want him
to show?
He'd worked himself into a frantic state by the time he reached the mall. At that hour of the day on a weekend, the mall was crowded, shoppers ambling from store to store. He paused by a central fountain already decked out for the Christmas season though it wasn't yet Thanksgiving. He inhaled deeply to calm his nerves.

The scent of hotdogs from the food court, normally an enticing smell, caused his nervous stomach to roll.

A group of teens passed, paired off two by two, holding hands and shooting shy, flirtatious glances at each other. The sight set off a longing in him, to have
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someone of his own to look at him that way, laugh at his jokes, maybe hold his hand.

When the couples wandered on past, leaving Otis with only mall music for company, he checked his watch and resumed his trek to what he prayed would be a new beginning and not a train wreck. The crowd grew thinner the closer he got to the arcade, located in a barely used wing. Several empty storefronts stared forlornly at him, their windows dark and curtained, signs of a less than thriving economy.

He stepped into Electric Amusements to the bleeps, blats, zaps, and
ching, ching, ching
of gaming machines.

All around the dimly-lit interior, teens and twenty-somethings dropped tokens into slots, the cost of battling to save the universe. Otis, probably a good eight to ten years older than the next in chronological age, stuck out like a sore thumb. "Honey, I'm home!" he called.

Several heads swiveled in his direction. Others, eyes fixed on their targets, merely chorused, "Hey, Otis!" a few calling him "Geek" instead.

"That's
Mr.
Geek to you," he replied automatically to the teasing masses, relieved that his date had chosen someplace where he felt comfortable. Not wanting to appear too obvious in his waiting, he found a machine facing the entrance and dropped a few tokens into the slot, leftovers from his last visit. He sank down onto the padded seat, ready to take on the universe.

Despite his best efforts to stay alert and watch for Garret, he soon found himself one with the game, shooting down alien bad guys with Captain Nathan's crew. A loudly exclaimed, "Would you look at him?"

from a trio of giggling girls at the next machine brought his attention back to the here and now, in time for an ugly alien brute to annihilate him with laser beam
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vision. His own vision trained on the entrance where the girls were staring, and he couldn't bring himself to care about his character's painful demise. Mouth dropping open and heart thudding a mile a minute, he watched a man who'd put all gaming-heroes to shame cruise into the arcade, clad in tight jeans and T-shirt, head held high like he owned the place. Otis didn't even register climbing out of the seat until he found himself miraculously standing beside the machine.

Merely nodding politely to the wide-eyed admirers, the new arrival raked his eyes over all the arcade's occupants, gaze coming to rest on Otis. Familiarity sparked in their crystal-blue depths. The smile that Otis had thought airbrushed on Garret's profile picture bloomed to life amidst chiseled features.

Daaaaaaaaaamn! He's hot!
echoed from his mind to someone else's mouth, who blurted it audibly.

With a bashful, little boy grin, Mr. Too-good-to-be-true casually strolled across the arcade. Otis stood with his mouth hanging open. That brilliant smile never dimmed as Garret grew closer. Otis pushed his black-framed spectacles up his nose, or rather, he tried, missing and smudging a lens in his distraction.

"Otis?" the guy asked, extending a hand. "Hi, I'm Garret Mims."

They shook sweaty hands. Or more accurately, Otis'

hand was sweaty before, Garret's only after contact.

What kind of game was this guy playing, acting excited to be meeting someone who'd surely proven to be a disappointment?

"O… Otis T… Tucker," Otis stammered, barely able to get the words out with a mouth gone dry and a tongue that refused to obey his commands. Rather than drop his hand after shaking it, Otis' date (for however long it lasted) held on… and on… and on…

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Otis' unbelieving eyes glued to a face that was, if not perfect, then pretty darned close. Medium brown hair, neatly styled, framed high brows and cheek bones, and a deep chin cleft gave Garret's face added interest and masculinity. Those penetrating eyes held intelligence and kindness, not the mockery Otis expected to find.

Each nerve ending seemed to be on high alert, electric currents dancing between them at the point where their hands met.

The world stood still. The
beeps, blips
, and
blats
faded into the background.

Garret stared at Otis like a starving man would a pork chop, and for once Otis wouldn't mind being thought of as food. For all Otis knew, they remained there for hours, eyes and hands locked together. Garret broke the spell. "What game are you playing?" he asked, attention leaving Otis to look at the machine. Otis' cheeks flamed.

Was the guy really interested or humoring him?

"
Invasion of Akutan."
A raised eyebrow prompted Otis to continue. "There's this group of colonists who settle an alien world and find out it's a hideout for a group of interplanetary thugs, the Legion of Noorvik.

You're part of the mercenary team they hire to take care of things. You get to choose which member of the team to be."

Garret slid past Otis to get a better look at the screen.

Otis' back tingled where Garret had brushed against him.

Libido overcoming his jittery nerves, his cock began to fill.

"Oh, yeah. My sister bought it for my nephew, though I've never played. Show me how it works?"

Otis dropped a few tokens into the slot, but not fast enough for Garret to miss the top ten high scorer's list.

"Otis T, top scorer," he read out loud, turning inquisitive eyes to Otis and sounding impressed. "Is that you?"

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Blushing again, Otis took great interest in the far wall, grudgingly admitting, "Yeah, that's me." What would Garret think if he knew that Otis held top scorer honors on ninety percent of the machines in the arcade?

He thought it best to keep that information to himself, for now, along with the title "Super Geek" that he'd earned from his fellow gamers.

"Cool!" Garret blurted, plopping down in the machine's worn leather seat. Otis had never wanted to be cowhide so badly in his life. "I'm not much good at video games. Would you teach me?"

"Well, my IT company services the machines, so I spend a lot of time here." Did that count as bragging?

Otis hoped not. He hated it when guys bragged.

"So, this is like, where you work?"

The heat setting on Otis' cheeks clicked from simmer to broil. "One of the places, yeah." Thankfully, Garret didn't seem to notice the embarrassment, single-mindedly focusing on landing a spaceship without crashing.

Standing behind the player's seat, Otis winced and grimaced, hands that wanted so desperately to take the wheel clenching and unclenching. He forced himself to talk Garret through the necessary maneuvers, and not wrest control of the game for himself.

Slowly, slowly, he calmed down, murmuring, "That's it; you're doing fine. Hold 'er steady. There you go…"

He huffed out a breath of relief when the
Carlotta
settled on the planet surface without so much as a bump.

Once in his element, Otis relaxed, laughing along with Garret's attempts to eradicate alien baddies. They tried on the persona of the captain, the gruff, wizened sergeant, the lieutenant, and even the head of the colonists' forces. Only the good guys, though. Most novices found the assorted baddies too creepy.

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Garret pointed to a figure on the screen. "Who's this guy?"

"That's Corporal Cole. You don't wanna be him. He's kinda a behind-the-scenes guy."

"Can I try?"

Corporal Cole? Nerdling extraordinaire? Who wanted to be him? Well, Garret, apparently.

Dropping more tokens into the machine, Otis briefed his date on the ins and outs of geek warfare, amazed at how many points the man racked up before falling prey to a sneaky, shape-shifting alien.

After a few more games, Garret suggested, "Wanna take a walk?" They strolled through the mall side by side, stopping at the fountain. "I've seen some of your work; from here you can see some of mine," he said. He swept his hand out toward the surrounding storefronts.

"Excuse me?" Otis asked.

The display of Garret's pearly white teeth sent tremors through Otis' belly. "I make dreams come true,"

he said.

Otis bit down on the words, "I've got a few you can work on," and rammed his hands into his pockets, a flash fire starting in his neck and working up his face.

"Umm… exactly how do you do that?" Images of what constituted dreams coming true for him flitted through his mind.

He never expected to hear, "I'm a loan officer at Attaway Savings and Loan."

What? This hunk of gorgeousness in skin tight jeans wasn't a model? A construction worker? Paid to sit around and look gorgeous all day?

Garret, not being privy to the thoughts careening around Otis' head, pointed toward a small shop. "See that store over there?"

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It being a craft store that sold yarn and other creative items, Otis had never paid it much attention. Now he did, watching a kindly, grandmotherly woman beaming and holding out what looked to be packages of brightly colored thread for two other ladies to "ohhh" and

"ahhhh" over.

Pride gleamed in Garret's eyes. "She came to me two years ago, wanting a loan to open her own business.

Everyone else said that a craft store wouldn't be a smart investment. Miss Martha proved them wrong." Before Otis had a chance to name Garret a saint, the guy winked, adding, "And don't think for a minute that I let the naysayers live it down at work. My goal is to fill every empty space in this mall with someone's lifelong dream of entrepreneurship."

Otis thought back to his own frustrating attempts to start a business, of being told no by bank after bank, eventually giving in to Grandpa Santino's offers of backing when he'd really hoped to do everything for himself and not rely on family. What he wouldn't have given to have known someone like Garret back then.

"C'mon, I wanna show you another dream that I helped bring to life."

Otis' mouth watered and his belly growled when they approached Candy Kingdom, a store he'd always tried to avoid before. The rich scent of chocolate beckoned.

Garret remarked, "This is my favorite place in the world." He held the door open for Otis to precede him inside the shop, where rack upon rack of sinful confections vied for attention. Garret marched confidently up to the counter. "A half-dozen dark chocolate strawberries, please." Looking back over his shoulder, he asked Otis, "You do like chocolate strawberries, don't you?"

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Otis nodded, waiting a safe distance away by the door. If he got any closer, he had little doubt he'd be leaving with a huge bag of sweets that would do nothing to diminish his girth.

Garret paid the clerk and followed Otis back out into the mall, clutching the small box of treats. "Let's sit in here," he said, leading the way into the darkened interior of what a sign said would soon be a coffee shop. They settled at a table, out of sight of passers-by. Garret reached into the box and pulled out an enormous strawberry, bringing it to Otis' lips. Caught in the tractor beam of seductive eyes gleaming brightly in the dimness, Otis opened his mouth, accepting the offering.

A sultry, knowing smiled played on Garret's lips as Otis bit down, and a jolt of pure lust fired to Otis' groin. Tiny bite by tiny bite, Garret fed him the sweet, an act that proved far more erotic than Otis had previously believed eating a strawberry could be.

He leaned back on the bench, chewing thoughtfully.

Dang, that tasted good! He watched as Garret took another strawberry and nibbled, eyes never breaking contact with Otis'. How could eating strawberries in a crowded mall possibly be more intimate than any sex Otis had ever experienced? Yet there it was, a deep-down, squirmy belly feeling that left him hard as a rock and begging for release. Through it all he tried to decide if Garret intended to be provocative or if it came naturally.

All too soon the box emptied without Otis having touched a single berry with his own hand. No lover had ever fed him before, other than, "There's some pizza left in the box if you're interested." The moment came, staring into each others' eyes, when Otis wondered if Garret expected to be invited back to his house.

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"How about those Buffaloes?" Otis asked instead, mentally
thwacking
the back of his own head.

"Oh man!" Garret palmed his face, peeking out from between his fingers. "Can you believe last night's upset?"

The next few minutes were filled with a lively play by play of the game, while Otis attempted to come up with a few game plays of his own.
Wanna come over to
my house and rewatch the highlights?
he almost said, dismissing that as too lame.
Should I invite him to
dinner? Shouldn't I make a move? Most guys I've met in
the past would've said something by now if they wanted
to come back to my place…or they'd have walked away
already. What should I do? What should I do?

Several times an opening came to make that

invitation, but each and every time the words caught in his throat.

When he'd finally worked up the nerve, he opened his mouth, only to be cut off by Garret's looking at his watch and saying, "It's getting late and they'll be closing the doors at nine. It's been really nice meeting you, Otis."

Five hours? Five hours had gone by, just talking?