A Dream Come True

Wes was pissed off. That was the third one. He'd been rejected because he was gay, he just knew it. The man had seemed interested enough in him as roommate material until he'd disclosed that little tidbit. Then suddenly he remembered another guy he'd interviewed and said he'd let Wes know his decision in a few days. Jesus, did the asshole think Wes wouldn't be able to resist jumping his flabby ass?

If he could help it, Mike, the guy he was seeing next, would never know he was gay. No excuse not to let Wes room with him and no excuse to kick him out later. He hated closets with a passion, but, hell, he'd be too busy to play around much anyway, and he could just plan to go home with any hookups he did make.

The apartment was close to the hospital where he'd be working, and it looked like a nice building. There were nicely trimmed crape myrtle trees producing attractive pink blooms planted around the perimeter of the clean brick building, and well-maintained flower beds blooming with colorful annuals edging the parking lot and walkway. Hopefully things would work out with this guy, because the price was right for this place.

***

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?"

Phoberia	Another Dream