Chapter 15
Brad
My chest is in a vise as I watch Joey and Logan embrace. It’s a quick hug, far below the six-second threshold, but it still feels as if it lasts forever.
It shouldn’t bug me. I shouldn’t want to run over there and forcibly shove them apart.
Fuck . What is wrong with me?
I chew on my fingernail as they say a few more words to each other. When Logan steps away, shooting me a quick wave before heading off, my heart soars. Is he leaving?
I definitely shouldn’t be relieved by that. In fact, I’m fairly certain that makes me the worst wingman ever. But I don’t care. Not right this instant.
I make my way back over to Joey, trying to gauge whether or not he’s happy about Logan’s departure. He’s watching him leave with a furrow in his brow.
“Hey,” I say once close, aiming for upbeat. “So, uh, how’d your talk go?”
Joey’s gaze shifts my way, something indecipherable in his expression. “Fine.”
I nod. “Cool, cool. I take it he’s not coming back with us?”
He shakes his head slowly.
“Okay,” I say as breezily as possible, even as I sag in relief. “That’s probably good, right? You’re looking for more than casual, so…” I let my sentence hang, not really wanting to consider Joey and Logan fucking. “Did you guys set up another date?”
“No,” Joey says quietly.
I ease out a breath before grinning in what I hope is a reassuring manner. “There’s still time, right? Plenty of time. I have his contact info, so if you want to—”
“Brad,” Joey cuts in. “Let’s head home, all right?”
“Yeah,” I say quickly. “Sure.”
Home .
Joey is quiet as we drive back to his little bungalow. He told me he’s renting the place for cheap in exchange for doing some repairs. By the look of things, he’s already been hard at work.
The outside of the house is dark blue, the trim a freshly painted white. There’s a section of porch that looks brand new, the wood still bright and unstained. A rocking chair sits atop it, right near the front door. Joey uses his key to let us inside, and I kick off my shoes before taking everything in.
The place is…adorable. That’s the best word I can come up with. The entryway is a gentle sage color, the living room off to the right cream. It’s clear Joey did some work inside, as well, because one of the walls has white streaked across it, like he patched it up and has yet to repaint it. Further down the hall is a dining room with a big bay window and the kitchen, also a sage color. The back of the house looks out over the small backyard, where a patio and portable fire pit sits.
I turn back around, heading for the stairs I saw at the front of the house. Joey’s bedroom must be on the second floor.
He laughs as I zip past. “Feel free to look around,” he calls after me.
“Thanks,” I yell back.
I find the bathroom first. The walls are a deeper green than the color downstairs, emerald maybe, and the floor is done in black-and-white tiles. Next is a closet. Boring. Joey’s bedroom is at the end of the short hall.
I peek my head in, nearly gasping when I see the dark navy walls and the giant bed adorned with a good dozen pillows.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, pushing the door open wider and stepping inside. There’s a gray-and-white rug at the foot of the bed, super soft to the touch, and the curtains must have blackout linings because hardly any light is peeking through.
It’s perfect .
“I liked how dark your room was,” Joey says from the doorway. “Thought I’d do something similar in here.”
“You painted it this way?” I ask, surprised by that.
He nods, walking toward the dresser and removing his fanny pack. I make a small sound of mourning, even though it’s fine . Not like he can wear it twenty-four seven. Or he could , but it probably wouldn’t be comfortable. I suppose his stomach looks good without it, too. He looks good. Any which way, really.
The strong thighs. The thick core. His lovely face, and the big arms that feel so perfect wrapped around me. I’m not a small guy, but Joey is bigger, and he makes me feel protected. Safe. Which is probably why I like having those arms around me so much, right? Like, really like it. Love it, even. Want it more than anything.
“Brad?”
I startle, realizing Joey is talking to me. “Sorry, what?”
He shifts on his feet, eyes aimed toward the ground. “There’s something I wanted to ask you.”
“Oh no,” I mutter aloud, my stomach dropping.
Joey stills, meeting my gaze. “What? What is it?”
“You have the voice. I did something wrong, didn’t I?”
“What? No,” he says quickly.
“I was rude tonight, wasn’t I?”
“No, not rude. Just…”
“I was hogging you,” I say, that hollow space in my gut growing. “ Fuck . I’m sorry, Joey. I didn’t mean to. I just… Logan was there, and… I don’t know. I just wanted…”
“Hey,” Joey says, walking closer. “It’s okay, bub. I’m not mad.”
“You’re not?”
“No,” he says, reaching for me. “Of course not. Come here.”
I blow out a breath, practically falling against Joey’s chest as his arms wrap around me tight.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, burying my face against his shoulder. “I don’t know what my problem was.”
Joey exhales roughly, his hands rubbing up and down my back in a soothing manner. My own slip under his shirt, settling on his skin. He’s warm. So very warm. “It’s okay,” he says again, his voice a little raspy.
“I probably shouldn’t come on your dates anymore, huh?” I say, even though I hate it. I don’t want Joey going on dates without me.
Jason was right. I do want all his time.
“I’ve been the worst friend,” I mumble.
Joey inhales a sharp breath, his stomach dancing under my fingertips. I’m not sure when my hands moved to his front, but his stomach is just as warm as his back. He feels good . Solid and strong. But comfy, too. I wonder if he’d be up for cuddling again. Maybe he’d even let me get rid of his shirt this time so we could be skin to skin. I could crawl on top of him, soak up his warmth. Lie on that cozy chest of his and trace his abs with my fingers or the tip of my—
I still, my thoughts coming to an abrupt halt, my heart pounding so hard in my chest I swear I can hear it.
“Joe?” I croak. “Would you excuse me for a minute?”
“Yeah,” he breathes.
Slowly, I pull my hands out from under Joey’s shirt and take a step back. I don’t meet his gaze as I slip past, heading out of the bedroom. I make my way swiftly down the stairs, walk outside, and jog around to the back of his small garage where I’m out of view. My hands shake as I pull my phone from my pocket.
Jason doesn’t answer my call. Fuck .
Okay, okay. He’s probably working. It’s fine.
I let out a breath and try Cas next.
“Hello?”
“Oh, thank God,” I whisper. “Cat-man, you’ve gotta help me.”
“What’s going on?” he asks, sounding calm. Cas is always calm. I appreciate it more than I can say at the moment.
“So, uh…you know Joey? My gym-dude? My… other gym-dude?”
“Yeah,” Cas says. “We met, remember? At the 5k?”
“Right,” I say on an exhale. “Um. I think I like his stomach.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. I’ve never done well with pauses.
“Like, I want to taste his belly button?” I explain. “Or come on his abs. Maybe both? Oh shit. ”
“Okay, breathe,” Cas says. “You know that’s perfectly fine, right?”
“But he’s my friend,” I hiss. “It’s pretty rude to imagine painting his stomach, don’t you think?”
“Painting his stomach with… No, I got it,” he says. “You know a lot of relationships start as friendships, right?”
“Sure,” I say slowly. “But… I’ve never wanted to come on a dude before. What if it’s just…I don’t know. Some kind of primal urge? Like, some sort of caveman this is my friend so I’ll mark him as mine thing?”
Cas is quiet for a couple seconds. “I really don’t think that’s a thing.”
I groan.
“It kind of sounds like you might be attracted to him,” Cas points out.
Yeah, it kinda does .
“Jason is going to be pissed he missed this,” he goes on, sounding fond.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “He’ll yell. Lovingly, of course.”
“Of course,” Cas agrees.
I heave out a breath. “Cas… I don’t get it. I’ve never been interested in a guy before. What’s going on?”
He’s quiet for a moment. Finally, he says, “I think sexuality is a lot more fluid than people assume. And even if you do swing primarily one way, I think there’s always room for the exceptions. The people that just… do it for you. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that. Have you talked to him about how you’re feeling?”
“No,” I admit, voice quiet. “I just realized, so now I’m hiding between his garage and a shrubbery. I don’t know what to say.”
He huffs a laugh. “Maybe start with something other than creaming his abs.”
“Holy fuck,” I whisper. “Why does that sound so hot?”
Cas laughs again. “Hey, if you have questions about any of this, you can always ask, okay? I’m not telling you you’re one of us now. That’s for you to decide. But if you do join the rainbow, it might be a lot to figure out. Jason and I will be here if you need it.”
My throat feels stupidly tight. “Thanks. You’re a good dad.”
Cas sighs, but it’s an amused sound. “Good luck, okay? You’re pretty fearless, Brad. I don’t know if you know that. But you are. You can do this.”
I want to believe him, but it feels big . Not just maybe being into a guy for the first time in my life, but being into Joey . He’s my baby kangaroo-roo. My gym-bro. My friend.
What if he doesn’t feel the same?
Holy shit. What if he does ?
“I, uh, should probably head back inside,” I tell Cas. “Thanks for answering the phone.”
“Of course. Let me know if you need anything?”
“I will. Later, dude.”
“Bye, Brad.”
I hang up and slip my phone back in my pocket.
So I like Joey’s abs. And the way he feels pressed against me. Not to mention his pretty brown eyes and his smile. Such a nice smile.
Maybe I like him . Maybe I should…explore that.
Oh God .
I let myself back into Joey’s house and close the front door quietly behind me. I don’t hear him moving about, so I make a quick detour into the kitchen and fill up a glass with ice water, gulping a few mouthfuls down.
I can do this .
As I head back upstairs, I construct possible conversation starters in my head.
Hey, Joey. Turns out I might be a dab queer.
Joseph-broseph. Question. Do you like cum play? Asking for a friend.
Joey Kangaroo. Can I hop on you?
Jesus Christ, I’m screwed.
When I get to the top of the stairs, the bedroom door is closed. “Joey?” I call out.
“I’m in here,” he yells back.
I nod, taking a breath and bracing myself. Then, I push open the door.
“ Holy— ”
Joey is facing his dresser, wearing abso-fucking-lutely nothing except for a teeny tiny jockstrap. His ass is just…right there. It’s right fucking there. All naked and smooth and—
Joey spins upon hearing my voice, his eyes widening in alarm. I’m already stumbling backwards, mumbling a, “Sorry, sorry,” when my heel gets caught on a floorboard. Before I know what’s happening, I’m going down, the glass of ice water in my hand spilling all over me like an expertly timed cold shower. I’m so stunned by the turn of events I don’t move a single muscle.
“ Shit ,” Joey hisses, rushing over. He drops down beside me. “God, bub. Are you all right? Did you hit your head?”
My mouth moves uselessly, my gaze slipping down Joey’s chest and stomach to the rather sizeable…bulge staring me in the face.
“ Duuude ,” I breathe. “You’re practically naked.”
“I was changing,” he says calmly, slipping his hand underneath my head, like he’s checking for damage. “I didn’t think you’d walk in on me.”
“Yeah,” I mumble. “My bad.”
“Are you okay?” he asks again.
“Uh-huh. You’re wearing a jock.”
“ Brad .”
“Yeah,” I say quickly, snapping my gaze up to Joey’s face.
He appraises me for a long moment. “You sure you’re good?”
“Yep,” I squeak. “Didn’t hit my head. I promise.”
He nods, letting out a breath. “Okay. Let me put on some clothes.”
Joey stands up, turning around. And I promptly choke on my tongue as his ass—as he walks away.
Fuck . It’s not just his stomach I want to paint.
I force my gaze off those bouncing cheeks and sit upright, my pulse hammering. As Joey pulls on a pair of sweatpants, I get to my feet and grab a towel from the closet. I dry my face before taking off my poor dampened fanny pack. Setting it aside, I tackle the mess on the floor, grateful the glass didn’t break.
“Here,” Joey says softly, squatting down beside me. He tugs me around to face him and starts rubbing another towel over my hair, his gaze soft.
“You’re, uh, not upset I walked in on you nearly nude?” I ask.
He huffs a small breath. “No. You’ve seen me changing in the locker room at the gym plenty of times.”
Yeah. I guess I just never really noticed .
I swallow heavily as I let myself look. Truly look. For maybe the first time ever.
Joey’s eyes are locked on my hair as he dries me off. He has thick lashes. Dark, too. The brown of his irises is…really quite beautiful. Like a tiny autumnal starburst. His hair has a bit of curl to it. Not much, just enough to make it look tousled, even when dry. And his stubble, a bit longer than my own, suits him. I can’t help but wonder what that coarse hair would feel like against my skin. Would it burn?
I shiver, my gaze slipping down to Joey’s loose-fitting tank top. It’s gaping just enough for me to get a hint of his pecs and the definition of his obliques. He’s in good shape; that much I already knew. But even though Joey has a physically demanding job and is a regular at the gym, he’s not all rock-hard muscle and popping veins. He has a little padding, which I love all the more. I know from experience how comfortable he is to lie on.
My gaze slips a little further down. To his sweats. And the way the material is pulled tight because of his squat. Fuck . Knowing what’s hidden under only a thin layer of gray…
“Brad,” Joey says quietly.
“Yeah,” I rasp, realizing the towel has stopped moving over my hair. I force my gaze upwards.
Joey looks…perplexed. Which I get. I was just checking out his junk. And what can I possibly say to explain it other than the truth?
Cas said I’m fearless. I don’t know that I’ve ever thought of myself as such. A little impulsive, maybe. Prone to following my instincts first and asking questions later.
Well, maybe I shouldn’t start overthinking things now. After all, I’m trying to find myself, right? And I can’t travel down a brand-new, possibly exciting road without planting my heel forward first.
Step five in Brad’s Guide to Finding Himself and Falling in Love:
Be brave .
Here goes nothing.
“Hey, Joey?” I say, trying not to let my nerves show. He waits patiently. Always patient. “So, uh, it turns out I really like your face. And, if you’re still amenable, I’d very much like to greet your tonsils with my tongue.”
Joey blinks at me, the towel falling from his fingers.
I cringe.
Yeah, that could’ve gone better.