Imposter in Zebra-striped Briefs by C.C. Dado Read Free Book Online Page A

different.
    Nathan was analyzing scans from a recent clinical study when he heard the ding of his cell phone. He was already laughing before he looked at the text. His friendship with Josh was certainly making his workdays more interesting.
    The stripper called me and asked for your number. Want me to give it to him? FYI Pretty sure there’s an e-card for that ;) If not there definitely should be.
    Nathan typed frantically. What? Why would he ask for my number? Nathan started to sweat and got a little nauseous at the thought of seeing the stripper again. He had to find out his name; he couldn’t keep calling him “the stripper.” It made him feel dirty.
    Ding…. My guess is he is not as straight as he thought.
    Nathan felt his stomach drop reading Josh’s last text. What should I do? Did you get his name?
    Ding…. It’s David, and it’s up to you. But I did tell him if he fucks with you, I will beat the shit out of him.
    Nathan sat down hard on the lab stool, overwhelmed. On one hand he couldn’t believe Josh had threatened David. He liked the name, he thought absently. He had never had someone who wanted to stand up for him.
    Ding…. Brandon said quit being a baby and do it.
    Nathan sat there building up his courage like he was going to jump out of an airplane, not give a guy his number. He typed his response before he had time to chicken out. Do it.
    Ding…. Done.
    Nathan ran to the garbage can as his mouth started to water. He held the edges of the can, wanting to text Josh back: Don’t do it, don’t do it .
    What was he going to do if David called? What did you say to a straight guy who’d danced practically naked on you, then ran away after you kissed him?
    Ding… Brandon said stop freaking out, it will be fine.
    Ding… He’s always right. Don’t tell him I said that.
    Nathan shut off his phone and stuffed it in his bag.
     
     
    Four hours later….
     
    NATHAN STOOD in his kitchen, staring at the phone on the counter like it was a creature from another planet about to attack him. Every once in a while he would go over and touch the power button to wake it up to make sure he hadn’t missed a call while he was staring at it, like that was even possible.
    He started to wonder if the guy was even going to call. Maybe he’d asked for the number, then changed his mind. Or maybe he’d given it to some thug who was going to come over and beat him up for trying to make out with a straight guy. That didn’t make sense. Why would he need to pay someone for that? He was way bigger than Nathan. He could do it himself if he wanted to, but not if he was so disgusted by what happened that he never wanted to lay eyes on Nathan again. Or maybe he was going to write it on the men’s room wall: For a good time call….
    Oh God. Nathan sat at the kitchen table and lowered his head between his knees before he started hyperventilating. Maybe his mom was right. Maybe he should be medicated. Nathan knew the medication would calm his anxiety, but he was literally afraid of taking it. Every time he read a list of side effects, that was all he could focus on, and Nathan knew he would get whatever the worst symptom was if he dared to take it. Right now he didn’t care what the worst side effect was; it couldn’t be worse than what he was feeling at this moment.
    He got up and went to the cupboard where he had shoved his stockpile of meds. His mom never checked to see if he ever took any of this stuff. He thought she felt better being able to tell people he was medicated and he wasn’t just naturally socially awkward.
    Nathan was rifling through the bottles—trying to remember what all the labels meant, knowing there had to be something there to calm him down—when his phone vibrated on the counter. He froze, turned, and looked at it as it vibrated again. Knowing it would go to voicemail soon, he leapt to the other side of the counter to answer it.
    “Hello,” Nathan said, sounding horribly squeaky to his own ears. He