Give Me Something by Elizabeth Lee Page B

He pointed to the living room. “You're welcome to jo–  My lack of sports enthusiasm must have spoke volumes. He laughed. “You can wait up in his room if you want.”  His room... interesting .  That meant Nick's room, too.  I'd never been up there with Nick and especially not with Tucker.  It was part of my “not too much alone time” method, but this was different.  I would be alone with free range to do a little bit of recon on Tucker and Nick.  I know, I know.  I said I didn't have girlfriends because they were nosy, but this was completely different.
    “ That'd be great.” I tried to hide my excitement.
    “ Okay.  It's upstairs, third door on the right.”
    “ Thanks again, Matt,” I added before heading up the stairs.
    When I walked into the room I had no what I was going to find.  It wasn't terribly small.  It comfortably fit two twin beds with simple wooden headboards.  Each side of the room was identically set up: bed, desk, nightstand and a floor -to-ceiling cabinet built in dresser and closet combo.  The décor was where they differed.  It looked like a before and after photo from Hoarders.   Deciding whose was whose was easy.  Tucker's side was immaculately kept.  A navy down comforter and matching pillows were the only thing on his bed.  The white walls on his side were adorned with fraternity related items, all meticulously spaced, and a poster from Rudy, his favorite movie.   Any other traces of Tucker were neatly tucked away in, I assumed, their proper place.
    Nick's side of the room, or the before side, was a mess.  Crates of albums were shoved under the bed.  The covers on his bed were a tangled mess, barely hanging on to the mattress.  The re was a collage of music related posters strewn on the walls with no rhyme or reason.  I walked over to the desk covered with books, papers and losing scratch-off lottery tickets.  Old habits die hard.  Nick had sworn that he quit gambling.  I guess he meant playing cards and betting on sporting events.  I suppose I could give him lottery tickets. I smiled when I saw a small picture frame containing a photograph of the two of us.  Bare in mind it was tucked behind the rest of the crap on his desk, but he had it nonetheless.  A familiar looking key chain caught my eye. It was a birthday gift from me to Nick – a small crescent moon that reminded me of his tattoo.  I picked up the key chain and adjoining set of keys.  I missed Nick.  I hadn't seen him in a while and I was starting to have withdrawals.  I took a deep breath, hoping to catch just a hint of his familiar scent somewhere in the room. 
    “ What are you doing?”
    Startled, I drop the keys and turned to find Nick standing in front of me.  “God, you scared me!”  I slapped his bare chest.  It took me a moment to realize that he was wearing nothing but a towel.  Using one hand to keep it in place, he rubbed the spot where my hand had just landed.
    “Damn! That hurt!”
    “ I'm sorry,” I apologized, placing my hand over his.  It seemed like time stopped as I stood there admiring his ever-impressive physique.  I'd forgotten just how beautiful he was.  The definition of chest and abs were gloriously accented with his collection of tattoos.  I remembered each and every one of them – the scripted lyrics from his favorite songs splayed across his left ribcage, the headphones and cord that wrapped down his bicep, the two vinyl records that were situated right above his hip bones, and my moon.  My eyes wandered down his artwork.  I quickly looked back to his eyes when I realized I was starting to salivate.  It was no better there. He held my gaze, and I let myself fall into the chocolate embrace of his eyes.  The cheers from downstairs broke my trance.  Apparently points were just scored.
    “ I'd love to stand here and let you ogle me all day,” he chuckled. “But, what are you doing in my room?”
    “ Right,” I responded, a bit flustered, and