JACKSON: You're a stallion.
I'm a bad, bad person.
JACKSON: Can you do that again?
ME: As long as we have a swivel chair.
My affair with Jackson had progressed to a very unhealthy level.
Evidence?
ME: Jeremy, we should talk.
JACKSON: Jackson.
ME: Huh?
JACKSON: You did it again.
ME: I called you Jeremy?
JACKSON: Yup.
ME: Oh...sorry.
JACKSON: It's okay. Even my Mom does it. I mean, clearly, not in the same circumstances--
ME: Jesus.
I need to end this, but the truth is...
I'm really enjoying myself.
For one thing, it's like being able to have sex with your best friend without--you know--actually having sex with your best friend.
JACKSON: Want me to do the Ashton Kutcher again?
ME: Where did you learn how to do that?
JACKSON: I read about it in a blog online.
ME: Were there diagrams?
JACKSON: Not everybody can do it. Being double-jointed helps.
Also, Jackson is like Evil Jeremy--which is really hot.
Knock, knock.
ME: I'll get it.
JACKSON: Davis, you're naked and sweaty.
ME: Do you know what the odds are that whoever's behind that door hasn't seen me this way?
JACKSON: Get me a soda while you're out there then.
I stopped by the kitchen and grabbed a can of root beer. I'd never keep that carbonated swill in the house, but Jackson likes it.
I grabbed a Pepsi for myself and then walked to the front door.
ME: Ahhh!
JEREMY: Are you reenacting that commercial with the construction worker again?
ME: I think that was Dr. Pepper.
JEREMY: Can I come in?
ME: NO! I mean...No.
JEREMY: Good think you clarified. Entertaining, are we?
ME: Uh...sure. Yes. Sorry. Sometimes I forget that there's no reason to lie.
JEREMY: It happens to the best of us.
ME: How did you know--
JEREMY: Aside from the nudity and the fact that you're holding two soda cans?
ME: Oh, right.
JEREMY: Unless you're into double-fisting.
ME: Eww!
JEREMY: It means drinking two drinks at once.
ME: Oh...Then I should really apologize to that bartender.
Jeremy seemed to be staring.
ME: So?
JEREMY: You hate root beer.
ME: I do.
JEREMY: So why do you have it?
ME: The, uh, guest likes it.
JEREMY: That's weird.
ME: Why?
JEREMY: Not that many people like root beer.
ME: Sure they do. Lots of people like root beer.
JEREMY: Nobody under the age of seventy.
ME: C'mon, root beer is an American institution.
JEREMY: Only weirdoes like root beer. My brother likes root beer.
Okay, time to steer him away from the hotspot.
ME: What's your issue?
JEREMY: I wanted to know if you're still going to the RI-TRI fundraiser this weekend?
ME: There's a fundraiser?
JEREMY: Yes. Jackson's throwing it.
ME: So why would I know about it? I don't know about everyone Jackson does.
JEREMY: Everything?
ME: Huh?
JEREMY: You said everyone.
ME: Right, and?
JEREMY: Never mind. You don't know about the fundraiser?
ME: Like I said, why would I?
JEREMY: Because it's in your honor.
ME: WHAT?
He handed me a flyer.
"AN EVENING HONORING JOHN DAVIS FOR HIS CONTRIBUTION TO THE RHODE ISLAND GAY COMMUNITY."
JEREMY: I was a little confused. What exactly have you contributed besides broken hearts and fake phone numbers?
ME: I have to go.
JEREMY: To the fundraiser.
ME: Well, yes, but no. I have to leave...you.
JEREMY: Okay.
ME: I have to throw out my guest.
I closed the door and went back to the bedroom.
ME: You little fucker.
JACKSON: Is that my new pet name?
ME: No, your new pet name is Leaving.
JACKSON: That doesn't really roll off the tongue.
ME: Nothing is going to be rolling off your tongue anytime soon. You signed me up for a fundraiser in my honor without TELLING ME!
JACKSON: Oh, that. You don't have to go if you don't want to.
ME: Then who will you honor? A blow-up doll of me?
JACKSON: Do you actually have one of those?
I threw the nearest thing I could find at him, which happened to be a stuffed cheetah.
Don't ask.
JACKSON: Hey, I thought you'd be, you know, honored.
ME: Oh God.
JACKSON: It was going to be a surprise.
ME: Oh, it was.
JACKSON: You've just been helping so much with the RI-TRI stuff behind the scenes--
ME: As part of our bargain.
JACKSON: --That I thought I'd give you some closure on the issue.
ME: I had closure.
JACKSON: Having me throw your ass out of a meeting is not closure, Davis.
I sat down on the edge of the bed. He started rubbing my shoulders. I could feel my resolve weakening.
JACKSON: Say you're not angry.
ME: I hate you.
JACKSON: I'll take it.
We started kissing, and I knew I was going to end up at that stupid dinner.
I was just hoping Jackson didn't expect me to be his date. Otherwise Jeremy would turn my banquet into a bloodbath.
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