Sharing the Room

  Sharing the Room

  A Short Story

  Raleigh Ruebins

  Contents

  1. Copyright

  2. Sharing the Room

  3. More from Raleigh Ruebins

  4. Social Media

  This is a work of fiction. Names, businesses, places, and events are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 2017 Raleigh Ruebins

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  “Hey Rodgers – you ever been to San Diego?”

  Tim’s boss, Mr. Monroe, swiveled around in his plush office chair turned to face him from across the small room.

  Tim looked over at Mr. Monroe, confused. “No… well, I’ve been to LA a couple times but never further south. Why?” Tim answered, looking over at Mr. Monroe.

  “How’d you like to go there in two weeks?” Mr. Monroe said, hitching his eyebrows up at Tim and waiting expectantly, unsmiling.

  “Huh?” Tim knitted his eyebrows together.

  “All expenses paid. My best post-doc just dropped out of the conference in San Diego, and we need another person there to present our data. This is the biggest conference in all of biomedical engineering.”

  Tim remembered hearing about the conference in one of their office meetings, but had tuned out the conversation, sure that it didn’t apply to him. He was only 23 years old, and had just started working at Tesana Research Group six months ago - why would Mr. Monroe want him to go to a huge conference?

  “So… you want me to go?”

  “Yep,” Mr. Monroe continued, looking impatiently at his phone and then back up to Tim. “You’re all I’ve got, Rodgers. Mary and Dinesh are in clinical all month and everybody else has kids and doesn’t wanna leave town on short notice. You’re young. You got anything better to do?”

  Tim blinked a few times. He still hadn’t gotten used to how blunt Mr. Monroe was. Tim was a classic introvert – quiet, shy, and kept to himself – so it had been a unique challenge working with him as a boss.

  “I mean, no, I guess I don’t,” Tim answered, thinking of how his days usually went: work, gym, home to cook dinner and watch Netflix alone. On Saturdays and Sundays it was the same thing, minus work. He had no life.

  “Good,” Mr. Monroe said, already looking back at his own computer again. “You and Rackey will travel together. I’ll have Heather buy your plane tickets now.”

  “Rackey?” Tim blurted out, probably too loud.

  Mr. Monroe looked back at Tim, clearly annoyed. “Yes. John Rackey. He’s in the Genetics group – haven’t you been going to the weekly department meetings?”

  “Uh, yeah, of course,” Tim said, blushing and turning back to his own computer.

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. John Rackey would be accompanying Tim on the trip – in fact, they’d be the only two people on the trip?

  This was bad – very bad, and Tim knew it. His heart started racing and he noticed his palm was sweaty against his laptop, even though the trip was still two weeks away.

  John fucking Rackey. Of course Tim knew who he was – he was the hotshot of the entire company, and he pranced around the building like he owned the place, constantly surrounded by people.

  John Rackey was hot and he knew it - cocky, outgoing, and had been at the company for five years, so everyone knew him. In other words, the exact opposite of Tim.

  And Tim had developed a huge crush on him the first week he’d started working at Tesana. He’d thought it would be the type of crush that eventually goes away, after getting settled in a new place – but it had persisted: he didn’t talk to John all that much (he didn’t talk to anyone all that much), but every time he saw him in the hallway or the breakroom, he would get nervous and invariably say something stupid. Tim liked older guys, and he thought John had to be at least seven years older than him.

  He’d even jerked off to the thought of John a few times before, late at night in bed, when he knew he should have been sleeping. He always felt a hot shame afterward. He’d see John the following day at work and start to blush involuntarily. He was sure John thought he was a complete weirdo—that is, if John even knew who he was.

  And now Tim was going to have to travel with him for five whole days.

  There was no way it could end well.

  When Tim arrived at the airport two weeks later, he felt like his heart was about to leap from his chest. He normally wasn’t great at making small talk with people he didn’t know well, but he was about to be faced with two hours in the airport followed by a four-hour flight with a guy—a coworker—he was crushing on hard. Not to mention sharing a hotel room with him, which almost made Tim feel faint thinking about.

  After trodding through security and hastily putting back on his shoes and belt, Tim walked the long terminal toward his gate. He scanned the signs above him, searching for gate A12.

  “Rodgers!” Tim heard a familiar voice behind him call out, and he knew immediately who it was. He’d know John’s voice anywhere.

  Tim turned and saw John jogging toward him, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder.

  God, why does he have to look like that? Tim thought, trying hard not to make it obvious that he was already lusting after him. John was hilariously fit and well-muscled, and even just his little jog had perfect form.

  “Oh, hey, you made it,” Tim said weakly, clearing his throat afterward. He nervously ran a hand through his hair, glancing up at John.

  “You ready to have some fun in San Diego?” John said, smiling wide and slowing to walk beside Tim down the rest of the corridor.

  Tim pushed out a polite laugh. Having fun. That wasn’t something he was always very good at.

  “Yeah, uh, sure thing,” Tim responded, unsure of what else to say.

  Is it going to be like this the whole time, Tim thought, with me giving one-word answers and generally being awkward as hell? He was scared to think of what 5 days of that would be like.

  They reached the gate and Tim took a seat. John sat down right next to him and immediately stretched his legs out, making himself comfortable on the black leather chairs. Tim briefly smelled what he figured was the scent of John’s shampoo – of course he smells perfect, Tim thought, trying to push away the distraction.

  For a moment they both looked out through the big glass windows at the tarmac, watching one plane take off and another one land.

  “Seriously though, it seems like San Diego has some great nightclubs,” John said, turning to Tim and fixing his grey-blue eyes on him. “I was checking out Yelp last night for places close to our hotel and there’s like, at least three within walking distance with great ratings.”

  Tim smiled politely. He was surprised John was still talking to him at all. “That sounds cool. I mean, I haven’t really been to that many nightclubs…”

  “Do you ever go to Bounce?” John asked.

  “What’s that?”

  John laughed. “You seriously don’t know Bounce? The club right near work?”

  Tim shook his head and smiled sheepishly. “Like I said, I don’t really go out a lot.”

  For some reason, a curious smile spread over John’s face.

  “What do you do instead, then? Where do you run off to after work every day?”

  Tim shrugged. “Nothing special. I go to the gym after work. At home I read a lot, watch Netflix….”

  “Well, shit, man, then we definitely have to go out in San Diego. We’ve got fifty dollar per diems every day for the trip – I’m sure if we eat cheap that’ll get us at least a few beers each.”

  Tim smiled. “Well, give me two beers and already I’ll be on my way to drunk, so I think we should have plenty of cash.”

  John beamed a smile again – it was so striking, and made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Cheap date, huh Rodgers?”

  Tim felt himself blushing.

  “But seriously, Tim, we’ll go out. You’re gonna have your pick of the ladies, I know it.”

  Tim laughed politely and shook his head. “Nah, I definitely don’t need any ladies.”

  John looked at him, confused.

  “I appreciate it, but… I’m actually gay, so… I don’t really need to meet any girls. Not for hookups, at least.”

  John’s eyes widened suddenly. “Oh—really? Well, maybe you can find a hot dude, then, I guess?” John turned back toward the window.

  Great, Tim thought. Now the whole trip was bound to be even more awkward – maybe John wouldn’t even be comfortable sharing a hotel with a gay guy. Tim had seen his fare share of male friends slowly fade away after finding out that he was gay.

  John turned back toward him. “Actually—can you keep a secret?”

  Tim hesitated. “Um… yes?”

  “Seriously, you can’t tell anyone at work what I’m about to say.”

  Tim nodded. “Absolutely. I… don’t talk much at work, anyway.”

  John looked at him. “I’m not out to most people at work, but I’m actually bisexual. I just… didn’t want you to think I was gonna be all weird about sharing a room with you, so I figured you should know
.”

  Tim swallowed hard. Wow. He had not been expecting that at all. His heart rate immediately soared—he likes guys! Could he like me?—but then it crashed again when Tim realized that someone like John would never be into him.

  Just because John liked guys didn’t mean John would want Tim.

  “Thank you for telling me, I appreciate it,” Tim said, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  John nodded and turned to his duffel bag, pulling out a big pair of headphones.

  Tim took a deep breath and dug into his backpack for a book. He needed something to distract him from John, otherwise he was liable to be sitting there with an erection right in the middle of the airport.

  It will be fine, Tim told himself. It was just five days. He’d just focus on the conference and everything would be fine. How bad could it be?

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your capta—WOAH, okay—Um, sorry about that ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing some very heavy turbulence as you can probably—”

  The pilot’s intercom cut off abruptly as the airplane lurched up and down. Tim took off his headphones and glanced to John in the seat next to him, the turbulence shaking both of them in their seats.

  “Holy fuck,” John said, his eyes wide. For once, John wasn’t smiling – in fact, he looked terrified.

  Tim scanned the plane and saw as backpacks and purses began to spill out into the center aisle, jostled by the choppy flight. There were at least three infants shrieking, and Tim turned toward the window next to him, looking out at the heavy, dark clouds.

  For a short moment, the turbulence stopped – it was peaceful, and Tim could almost hear a collective exhale from the other passengers.

  “Is it gonna be okay?” John said, and Tim turned back to face him. There was a raw fear in John’s eyes.

  Just then, the biggest drop yet occurred – the plane careened downward in the air, and for a moment Tim felt like he was in complete freefall. The lights in the plane all cut out suddenly, leaving the cabin dark.

  Screams shot out through the plane, and before Tim realized it, there was a firm pressure on his hand. He looked down and saw that John was gripping his hand tight in his own, holding on for dear life, and staring at Tim, eyes wild.

  Tim could feel John’s hand shaking. He squeezed back, hard. Without thinking, he extended his other hand and reached it out to John’s shoulder, gripping him, as if to remind him that he was still in one piece.

  “It’s okay. It’ll be fine. I’ve had worse turbulence than this on planes before.” It was a lie. Tim had never felt turbulence anywhere near as awful.

  John worriedly bit his bottom lip and darted his eyes back out the window.

  After two more rough lurches, the lights flickered back on in the cabin of the plane.

  “Thank God,” John said, squeezing Tim’s hand.

  Slowly and surely, the turbulence stopped, and the flight leveled out.

  “Ladies and gentleman, we have just made it through a hot spot and we are out. It should be smooth sailing from here on out the rest of the way to Sunny San Diego.”

  Cheers erupted throughout the plane. Tim saw people crying—bawling—as they turned to their loved ones.

  All of the sudden, John leaned across the armrest between them and gripped Tim in a tight hug.

  “Oh my God, Rodgers, I thought we were fucking dead. I thought we were dead.” John was breathing deep near Tim’s shoulder.

  Tim’s heart was racing – now not only from the intense adrenaline rush, but from John embracing him. He smelled amazing, like shampoo and cedar, and it took all of Tim’s willpower not to bury his face in John’s hair.

  It was incredibly comforting after the chaotic turbulence.

  “You’re okay. It’s over.”

  Tim’s instinct was to clutch as close as possible to John—he’d be fine staying in his arms forever. But he remained neutral, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

  “Fuck,” John said, finally pulling away and removing his hand. “Sorry about that, Rodgers, I’m just a little afraid of flying.”

  Tim laughed. “Ya think?”

  John cracked a smile, but looked pleadingly at Tim. “Too soon! It’s too soon to be joking about this. I’m still shaking, for God’s sake.”

  Tim grinned at John. “Fine. I’ll make fun of you tonight, then.”

  John laughed a little. “You can do whatever you want tonight, Tim. You have my word.”

  And with that, Tim’s adrenaline went up again. John had no idea of the places that innocent comment made Tim’s mind wander.

  “To you, Rodgers – for saving my life on that plane!”

  Tim and John licked salt off of the backs of their hands, tossed back their shots of tequila, and bit down on slices of juicy lime. Tim was grateful for the relative sweetness of the lime juice after the harsh tequila – he wasn’t a huge drinker, but he wasn’t about to say no to John buying them a round of shots.

  “I didn’t save your life, I just tried my hardest to keep a straight face so that you couldn’t tell how freaked out I really was, too,” Tim said, smiling crookedly at John.

  “Whatever, Tim. I would have died of a heart attack if you weren’t there, so consider this me repaying you.”

  Tim watched John closely as he ordered them a round of beers. John was equally as open and charming with the bartender as he was with everyone else, asking him questions about how long he’d worked there and what he liked about San Diego, and Tim could clearly tell the bartender liked him.

  It was their second night in San Diego – the previous night, they had unceremoniously dropped their bags in the hotel room and fallen asleep after the exhausting day of travel.

  Today they had spent the entire day at the conference center, attending lectures and presentations that Mr. Monroe required of them. It was a long, mind-numbing slog of a day, and Tim was glad to be anywhere other than the stuffy conference center. John had dragged Tim to a bar at the first chance he’d gotten, just as he’d promised.

  John turned away from the bar and pressed a cold beer into Tim’s hand. They stood, drinking, watching as the bar filled up with more and more people as happy hour continued on.

  “There are a lot of guys here,” John said, scanning the room.

  “Yeah,” Tim said, looking around and quickly realizing something. There were multiple gay couples, guys that were holding Tim’s eye contact longer than usual, and even one guy with a rainbow armband.

  “Okay, I’m 90% sure we’re in a gay bar,” Tim said, turning back to John.

  John smiled wide. “Was wondering when you’d notice. Did you want to go somewhere else? I thought you wanted to meet a hottie tonight, right?”

  Tim snorted a laugh. “Those are your words, not mine. I’d never say the phrase ‘meet a hottie.’”

  Tim could already feel the single tequila shot coursing through him – he was a lightweight to begin with, but after a long, boring day, the warmth was very welcome.

  “Hey you,” Tim heard a voice behind him and felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw a shorter man with a beard behind him, smiling wide. “I just wanted to say you have very nice hair.”

  Tim thought the compliment was slightly odd, but he smiled politely nonetheless. “Well, thank you.”

  “I’m Bernard,” the guy said, holding out a hand. His hand was hot and clammy when Tim shook it, and Tim tried to surreptitiously wipe his hand off on his pants afterward. Bernard seemed to have some sort of food stain on the front of his shirt, and Tim didn’t know whether or not to point it out to him.

  Tim wasn’t used to being hit on, which is what he guessed was occurring. He didn’t know what the protocol was, or how to nicely turn someone away. He turned back toward John, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t leave his side.

  “This is John,” Tim said, “And this is Bernard.”

  They exchanged pleasantries before Bernard ordered a mojito.

  “Well I’ll be over by the pinball machine if you want to chat later, Tim,” Bernard said, giving him a suggestive look. “Find me.”

  Bernard walked away and Tim turned back to John, raising his eyebrows and taking a big sip of beer.