10 Ways to Accidentally Fall in Love

Chapter 9

Brad

Why are they called cum gutters?

Sure, the muscles that lead down in a V toward the dick are like a big glaring arrow advertising the goods. But it’s not like jizz actually comes from a guy’s hips and travels down to their…

Wait .

Joey’s abs flash back to mind, including the deep V that disappeared below the line of his briefs. If he— or another dude —were to jerk off and come all over his abs, the jizz would run down those muscles like—

A coughing fit disrupts my rather vivid imagination, ending in me nearly spitting my coffee all over the table. Luckily, I manage to swallow.

“You all right, Brad?” Marley asks from behind the register. I’m at Hyped, my go-to coffee shop to work at when I need a change of pace from my usual view, aka the inside of my apartment. Jason used to be a barista here before he became a full-time nurse. The entire place smells like bitter roast coffee. My favorite.

“I’m fine,” I manage, the coughing starting to subside.

I was just picturing cum sliding down my friend’s abs. No big deal. Nothing to see here.

“Need a top-off?” she asks.

“What?” I practically yell. “Nothing’s coming off my… top .”

Marley squints at me. “Coffee?” she says slowly.

Oh, good God .

“Right,” I say, huffing a laugh. “Coffee would be great, thanks.”

Marley has a bemused expression on her face as she comes around the counter, a carafe of deep brown heaven in hand. “Your fuel,” she says mildly, filling my cup. “You sure you’re good?”

“Have you ever had inappropriate thoughts about gutters?” I ask her.

Marley pauses, blinking at me. “Honestly? No. Can’t say I have.”

“Yeah,” I say with a sigh. Pretty sure there’s something wrong with me . “Thanks, Marley.”

She gives me a nod before going back to work, and I check the time. Shoot . I’m going to be late.

I chug the rest of my coffee, wincing as it scalds my throat on the way down, and then I close out my many work applications and shut my laptop. Once my things are packed, I head out the door. I have to swing by my apartment first, not wanting to leave my expensive computer in a locker at the gym. Thankfully, I’m only two minutes late to meet Joey.

“Sorry,” I heave, catching my breath after the short jog here. Joey is already positioned at a treadmill, another dude in the spot next to him. “Lemme change, and I’ll join you.”

“No rush,” Joey says, giving me his usual warm smile.

The guy next to him eyes me up and down, as if he thinks I’m considering challenging him for the honorary best bud spot next to my Joe-bro. I mean, not that I didn’t consider it for all of a second. But I’m not that petty.

I could take him, though.

I make quick work of changing into my workout clothes, unfortunately realizing partway through that I forgot to grab underwear. Not a big deal. The goods like to breathe, anyway.

When I get back out to the main part of the gym, Joey and the other guy are chatting. I hop up on the treadmill nearest, having to look past the stranger to see my friend. Joey cracks a smile when I wave.

“So what do you do?” Other Dude asks Joey.

“He’s in construction,” I answer, sending Joey a wink. “Knows his way around the ol’ nuts and bolts. Really good at…screwing?”

That doesn’t sound right .

“At least, I assume,” I go on quickly. “I haven’t experienced it firsthand yet, but I’m hoping one day Joey will show me his equipment.”

Other Dude seems surprised, but he quickly turns his attention back to Joey, whose eyes are wider than normal. I frown, going over what I said.

“Actual construction?” Other Dude asks.

Joey huffs a laugh. “Yeah. With the tool belts and everything.”

“Nice. I’m in finance,” the guy says, as if he expects Joey to be impressed. Joey nods, but he doesn’t look overly dazzled, and, for some reason, that makes me feel better.

I up my treadmill speed so I’m jogging at a nice clip. I’m hot after my rush to get here, so I grab my water bottle, chugging a bit before spraying some on my face to cool off. The water dripping down my neck feels like perfection, so I rub it back around to my nape, groaning a little.

When I look over, both men are staring at me.

“Needed to hydrate,” I explain.

Joey looks a touch red. How long has he been warming up?

“Want me to do you?” I ask, holding up the water bottle.

He shakes his head. “I’m good,” he practically croaks.

Shit, I hope he’s not coming down with something again.

Other Dude looks between the two of us before refocusing on Joey. Not like I wanted to give him my water anyway .

“Have you been to the bar across the street?” he asks.

“Which one?” I cut in. There are several. “The whiskey bar? The dive? The gay bar with the sketchy-as-fuck back rooms? Not that I’ve been in the back rooms,” I say, giving them a wink so they know I’m not bothered by those sorts of activities.

Joey lets out a slow breath, but Other Dude amps up his jogging speed, so I do the same. Not that it’s a competition, but shit , a good race really gets the blood pumping.

“I haven’t been,” Joey answers, although I’m still not sure how he knows which bar the guy was talking about. “I’m new to town.”

“Ah,” the guy says. “You should check it out sometime.”

Joey nods, but he doesn’t commit. Is he worried about going alone?

“I can take you,” I offer, giving him a beaming smile.

It’s then Joey’s gaze slips down my body. He trips, making a choking sound that has the other guy following his gaze, and ah . Yeah…

“Forgot my underwear,” I tell them, realizing exactly where they’re both looking. Chuckling, I add, “You know how it goes.”

They continue staring.

Other Dude slows his treadmill after a moment, hands on either side of his machine. “I don’t have a chance, do I?” he asks Joey.

Joey stops his own machine, looking almost apologetic, although I’m not sure why. “It’s not… He’s not…”

“It’s fine,” the guy says. “I get it. Have a good one.”

Joey mumbles, “You, too,” as the guy walks off.

I stop jogging, not having a clue what just happened, but Joey looks mildly distressed. “You okay?” I check.

He abandons his machine and plunks down on a bench nearby, so I do the same. His hair is the tiniest bit damp as he turns to me, and I have an urge to just…rub away his sweat. Which is weird. So I don’t.

“Bub,” Joey says quietly, the nickname lighting me up inside. It feels like ours. Like something that’s just for him and me. “You do realize, as my wingman, you’re supposed to find me dates, right? Not scare them off?”

My mouth drops open as it dawns on me what he’s saying. “That dude was flirting?”

“He was flirting,” Joey confirms.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, looking around. The guy is long gone. “I didn’t even realize! He wasn’t very good at it.”

Joey huffs a laugh. “Well, how could he compete when your dick was waving an enthusiastic hello?”

I snort. It was kinda like he was waving. “J-bae, my dude, any guy of yours is going to have to get used to my dick being around. So, clearly, he wasn’t the one.”

Joey blinks at me.

“We need a code!” I realize.

“A code?”

“For when a guy is flirting and you’re interested. Should it be a word? A gesture?”

“I can think of so many words,” Joey mumbles.

“What about ‘green’? You know, like the stoplight system? Green means you’re good to go.”

Joey gives me an odd look. “Do you use the stoplight system often?”

“I mean… I drive, so yes?”

His lips twitch. “Sure. That works.”

“Awesome. So now we just need to find a guy. Hey, wanna head to that gay bar after this? They have nachos, so we can get some grub and scope out future Mr. Delgados. Just…maybe avoid the back rooms, dude. They are not clean.”

Joey rubs his temple. “Have you actually been in the back rooms?”

“Honest mistake,” I tell him. “I thought there was candy.”

He starts to laugh, quietly at first, and then a little harder. “God, Brad. Don’t ever change.”

My chest warms at the simple fact that Joey likes me for me. It’s rare to find that. To find someone who accepts you for who you are. Who doesn’t ask you to change. Doesn’t even want you to.

“You’re a good guy, Joey Francis Delgado,” I tell him. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

Joey drops his hand, looking at me for the longest moment. Those brownie-warm eyes are comforting, and I give him a small smile in return. His gaze slips to my mouth before skipping away.

Finally, Joey bumps his shoulder into mine. “Same goes for you, bub. You’re quite possibly the best guy I know.”

Well, shit .

“I kinda want to hug you right now,” I admit. “But we’re both a little sweaty. I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but—”

Joey gives me a hug without hesitation, his massive arms wrapping around me tight. It’s the absolute best , and I squeeze him back happily. I hear him chuckling as I count to six.

“Should we do something macho now to reassert our masculinity?” I tease as we lean apart.

“Please don’t say de—”

“Deadlifts!” I cheer.

Joey groans, but he gives my shoulder a slap as he stands, which I take as enthusiastic assent.

When our workout is finished less than an hour later, we hit the showers. I don’t even realize I’m mumbling Queen until I hear Joey hit a high note in the stall next to mine.

“Dude!” I gasp.

He laughs loudly before singing another line. I’m so impressed, it takes me a second to catch up, but then I’m singing along with him, the both of us going back and forth about letting him go . When Joey gets to mamma mia , I lose it.

Joey makes it out of the shower before me, already dressed and zipping up his bag as I emerge. “I’ll wait up front,” he says, heading around the corner of the lockers.

I get dressed, still sans underwear, and meet him near the glass doors a few minutes later, a grin on my face. “So are we slamming some nachos or what?” I ask, swinging my bag over my shoulder as Joey holds the door open for me. So polite. “And then we can find you some dick!”

The guy passing on the sidewalk looks over in alarm.

“Don’t make it weird,” I tell him. “No one likes homophobia.”

He moves along swiftly.

Joey shakes his head, but there’s a smile on his face as he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe away the moisture that’s already accumulated on his forehead. It’s fucking hot today, so no wonder. Of course, the move reveals the sculpted planes of his stomach and the V muscles that, uh… That…

Um.

I nearly jump out of my skin when Joey says my name. “Brad?”

“I wasn’t thinking about testing my theory!”

He looks alarmed by the volume of my voice. “What theory?”

“It’s, uh, nothing. Gutters, though, they’re useful, you know? The way they…function. You ready to go?”

He’s still looking at me oddly. “Sure. Want to throw your bag in my truck?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” I tell him. Definitely don’t want to drag my sweaty gym clothes to the bar. “This is gonna be awesome, Joey-roo. We’ll find you a boomer in no time.”

“A…boomer?” he says in some concern, the both of us heading toward the parking garage.

“Yeah, like a daddy kangaroo?”

“Brad.” He huffs a laugh. “Are you telling me I should get a Daddy?”

I frown over at him. “I mean, I guess it doesn’t have to be a dad specifically. I just mean a guy, you know? Don’t worry,” I say, waving a hand through the air. “Leave everything up to me. I guarantee you’ll be giving me the green light before the night is over.”

Joey’s laugh feels like warm caramel on a cool vanilla sundae. Oh . I should definitely add that to his profile.

Yeah.

We’ve got this in the bag.