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Some days the mirror depresses me. People think I have it all—good looks, a great job, plenty of money, amazing friends...and I do. However, my bed is constantly empty and I’m what my best friend Marcus calls a loser magnet. If there’s a possessive, shallow asshole within a hundred mile radius, I’ll pick him as my new lover.
Which unfortunately leads to a constant opening for a new bedmate. And I hate dating. Nothing depresses me more than going to a club and having dozens of people I don’t know grab my ass. I would never presume to grope someone without at least discovering his name. The same can’t be said for everyone else.
Shoving down my self-pity, I slid into a pair of fitted black jeans and a tight red T-shirt before pulling a crisp, white button-up shirt over the outfit. I’d look nice for dinner, then I could lose a layer at the club when I got too hot from dancing. I had promised to meet Marcus and his lover Charlie at eight. We were going to dinner where I would try to enjoy eating while watching Marcus make goo-goo eyes at the love of his life.
When Marcus had first told me years ago about his love for Charlie, I have to admit I’d thought the man was making it up—that he was another gay man in denial. However, when I dragged him to every gay bar I could find, he didn’t once drool over or show interest in even one of the beautiful men I introduced him to. Hell, the fact he never gave me a single lustful glance should’ve been a tip off. I don’t like to brag, but I’ve never had a complaint about my looks—about many other things, but never my appearance.
Once I met Charlie, I sort of understood Marcus’ obsession. The man had an innate sweetness that pulled at you—making you want to wrap him up in cotton and take care of him. Add in the fact he was an amazing artist and gorgeous to boot and I kind of wished to have a Charlie of my own.
Instead, I had an empty bed and an even emptier date book. Luckily my workload was heavy, helping combat my loneliness. Going to bed exhausted every night kept me from noticing the aching emptiness of my life until morning. What I wouldn’t give to not wake up alone anymore.
My phone rang.
I snatched it up, not bothering to check the readout. I didn’t need to. Marcus lacked patience, he always had. "Marcus, I told you I’d see you in a bit."
"Evening, Francis. Is that the same Marcus you roomed with in college?"
I smiled as my Aunt Janie’s voice came over the line. "Evening, Aunt Janie, how are you doing?" I firmly believe there isn’t a sweeter woman on the planet than my Aunt Janie.
"I’m doing just fine, honey." There was a hesitation in her voice that told me I wasn’t going to like what she had to say. "I was hoping you could do me a little favour."