Chapter 23
Brad
Joey waits patiently as I step slowly down the ladder attached to the side of the dock. It’s warm today, the sun out as it’s been all morning. After sharing a lovely breakfast with Mama Delgado, Joey proposed going for a swim.
It’s not that I’m against that idea, evidenced by the fact that my toes are now dipping into the cool, shallow water. I just have a healthy fear of being swept away in an uncontrollable current and ending up lost at sea, aka at the bottom of it. Never mind the fact that we’re at an inlet where the water is relatively still compared to the beachfront just down the road. Caution is a good thing.
As is my nice orange life vest.
It makes getting down the ladder a little cumbersome, but I manage, my toes finally sinking into soft sand, the water up to my knees.
“That’s not so bad,” I comment.
“Pretty nice, right?” Joey says, a grin on his face as he squints into the sun.
“Oh,” I sigh, patting his cheek. “Yes. So, so nice.”
His smile gets impossibly wider.
“How far out do you want to go?” I ask.
“Just enough to swim?” Joey suggests. “You can stay a little further in if you want.”
I nod idly, walking alongside Joey, one hand on the dock for balance. “Could I, like, float away?” I check.
“Nah,” he says easily. “You’d get pushed to shore, not outwards.”
“Sure, sure. But what about undertows?”
He smiles at me. “That’s a concern at the beach, but not here, I promise.”
I nod again, trusting him. As we reach the end of the dock, where the water is halfway up my stomach, wetting the bottom of my life vest, I come to a stop. Joey steps a few feet further, turning so that he’s facing me and then pushing backwards into the water. He floats easily on his back for a couple seconds before twisting and dropping under the surface. When he comes up, he’s fully wet, reminding me of that day at the pool when water was dripping down his back and over his ass, and I couldn’t help but watch the journey.
Was I curious about Joey even then? I must have been. Why else would I have felt guilty for looking at his ass?
“I think I’ve always been bi,” I muse aloud.
Joey’s head snaps up, and he stands, walking my way as he brushes his hair back. “Yeah?”
“I mean… I’ve always been able to appreciate a nice ass. Man, woman, enby, it never mattered. I just… I’ve only been with women. But I wouldn’t enjoy looking at men if I didn’t find them attractive, right?”
Joey hums, seemingly weighing his words as his head tilts back and forth a little. “I don’t think anyone can say for sure other than you. I think it’s possible to find someone objectively beautiful without wanting to be with them sexually or romantically. It’s like art. You can appreciate it without wanting to take it home.”
“Dude,” I say, letting out a snort. “Nice one.”
He chuckles. “What I mean is attraction isn’t always cut and dried. Is it possible you’ve always had the potential to find a man desirable but just haven’t consciously thought about it before? Sure. Or maybe it has more to do with connection than body.”
“Huh,” I mutter, thinking that over. “Jason is demisexual. Have I mentioned that?”
“You did. Once,” he says.
“Sex wasn’t something he wanted before Cas,” I tell him, positive Jason wouldn’t mind me sharing that with Joey. “He’s always had a high libido—and please, don’t ever ask me to explain how I know that. Our walls were not thick.”
Joey huffs a laugh.
“But he didn’t want to share that, to get off, with other people. Not until Cas. And even now, there’s only Cas for him, you know?”
He nods, looking curious about where I’m going with this. I hardly know myself, talking my thoughts aloud more than anything else.
“I never doubted being sexually attracted to women,” I say. “I don’t think I’m demi. But I do think, maybe, having a connection with you made all the difference. Because…”
Because I liked Joey before I realized I liked his stomach.
Because sex wasn’t the first thing I wanted from him. It was simply to be close. To know him better.
Because the chance I might lose him to the Logans of the world made me confront the fact that my feelings weren’t strictly platonic.
Which means…
Which means I wanted a romantic relationship with Joey before I ever wanted a sexual one.
Holy shit .
No wonder I demanded our bros-with-bennies sitch include exclusivity. I didn’t want Joey falling for anyone else. Don’t . Don’t want that.
“Bub, you okay?” Joey asks, having moved closer. His hand is sun-warmed on the side of my arm, his lashes dark from the water. His eyes are so fucking pretty it hurts.
Just realizing I’m in a hell of a lot deeper than I thought I was .
I let out a chuckle, hoping it sounds far less manic than it feels. “Fine.”
“Does it bother you to be questioning your sexuality?” he asks, entirely serious, like all he wants is to make sure I’m emotionally stable.
Stupid sexy fucking consideration.
“No, it doesn’t,” I admit, clearing my throat. “Whatever I am, I am. It doesn’t matter to me what I was or wasn’t in the past, not really. It’s knowing myself now that matters. It’s just…” I let out a measured breath. “I feel like I should have figured it out sooner.”
I don’t tell Joey that includes the whole oops, I kinda want to shack up with my gym-bro in a till death do us part sorta way realization. At least, maybe I do? But that’s not something one blurts before being absolutely sure. Hell, even then, there’s probably a standard waiting period, right? Like, at least six months before admitting you want joint bank accounts?
Fuck , I don’t know. I never was very good at this relationship stuff, as Jason’s many attempts to cheer me up with espresso ice cream after a breakup attest to.
I don’t want to fuck things up with Joey. I’m not even dating the guy. Not really.
Not yet.
Joey’s soothing voice brings me back to the present. To my toes sinking in the sand and the gentle whoosh of the water lapping at shore. “Hey, there’s no one right time or right way when it comes to this stuff. Everyone is different, which means everyone’s experiences are different. Don’t compare yourself to others as a measure of should have when it comes to figuring out your sexuality. Or anything, really. You’re perfect as you are, bub.”
“Damn,” I mutter. “You’re really good at making me feel good.”
He looks pleased.
“Dunno about perfect, though,” I add, giving Joey’s bare stomach a couple lingering pats as I pass. “But far be it from me to criticize your judgement. Now c’mon, Joey-roo. I need you to bench me into the air and call me Baby.”
Joey blinks at me for several seconds before saying, voice questioning, “ Dirty —”
“ Dirty Dancing , dude! Yes!”
He shakes his head, but there’s a smile on his face as he joins me in the deeper water. I’m pretty sure I hear him mumble something about owe it all to you , and I decide, despite the limitations of my body, I’m going to try very hard to have Joey’s babies.
I bounce on my toes as Joey gets into place a little ways in front of me, the water high enough that I won’t hit the sandy bottom if I fall. When he waves me forward with both hands, I grin and take off at a running start just like in the movie.
Or at least I try to.
“Fuck,” I mutter, my legs moving ridiculously slow through the water. “Joey, I’m stuck.”
He’s laughing.
“No, dude, seriously. I can’t run in this.”
I pump my arms at my sides as the full force of the Atlantic tries to keep me anchored in place.
“Lift your legs,” he calls.
I grunt, getting my knee above the water, and then the other, high-jumping a couple steps as Joey laughs his head off. When I look up, he’s doubled over, his hands on his knees under the water.
“Joey!” I hiss. “Places! I’m getting close.”
He stands upright, his hands poised like he’s ready to catch me, even though I’m still a good five feet away.
“Fuck,” I yell, waving my arms faster.
He doubles over again.
Launching myself, I land on top of the water, my life vest carrying me to a waiting Joey. He scoops me out of the water, and the both of us tumble over.
“Stop laughing,” I say, laughing. “That wasn’t majestic at all.”
“Oh my God,” Joey manages, getting his feet under him, me still in his arms like a buoyant drowning rat. Once we’re both upright, he wipes his face. “Best thing I’ve ever seen.”
“That was the worst ,” I counter. “No one told me you can’t run in water.”
I can’t tell if the moisture on Joey’s face is from our fall or his tears.
“What if we skip the running start?” he proposes.
“ Fine . But you better still call me Baby.”
“Happy to,” he says, squatting down, his chin dipping below the surface of the water. “Here, climb on.”
“I…really want to make a joke right now.”
“About…”
“About climbing you like the sturdy tree you are and finding a nice branch to fit between my legs. In case it’s not clear, your dick is the branch.”
Joey coughs, sputtering around a mouthful of water.
“Jesus, dude. I know you’re part merman or whatever, but that doesn’t go in your lungs.”
“Yeah,” he croaks. “Got it. Ready?”
“I was born ready,” I tell him, leaning against the hands he has raised above the water. Joey gets a firm grip on the sides of my stomach, right below my life vest, and then he stands.
For a second, maybe two, I’m airborne, my arms out to my sides and an unstoppable grin on my face. Joey calls, “Nobody puts Baby in the corner!” because he’s the literal best. And then I’m splashing into the water, a shock of cold surrounding me before I bounce back to the surface.
I roll onto my back, laughing as the sun beats down on my face. Joey appears in my vision, light haloing him like an angel.
“Okay?” he checks, smile wide.
I nod, the water in my ears making everything sound odd. “Pretty sure I can die happy now.”
“Let’s maybe not do that,” Joey says, grabbing me and hauling me upright. I bump into his chest, the vest between us, water dripping down the side of Joey’s face and his hair curling in wet swoops like the waves.
There’s a stutter behind my ribcage. The briefest feeling of being airborne once more.
Joey’s lips taste faintly of salt when I kiss him, like the sea and the sun. He’s firm beneath my fingertips, and everything about him, from the already familiar feel of his mouth to the way excitement and warmth skitters down my spine at his proximity, settles me in a way so few things do.
I’d stay lip-locked with the man for the entire day if I could, but I highly doubt Joey’s mom would care to see her son making out with someone in what equates to her backyard, adult or not. So I pull back.
Joey lets out a quiet hum, his hands brushing my hair back from my face. “Question,” he says, a coy lilt to his words that I like a lot. “How do you feel about…watersports?”
I suck in a gasp. “ Yesss. Can I drive the boat?”
“Absolutely not,” Joey says, letting me go and making for the ladder. “But you can be a good boy and enjoy the ride.”
“I… Hmm . You know, I’m not usually into the whole good boy thing,” I point out, following after him, “but you make a rather compelling argument.”
Joey grins as he climbs the ladder, his legs flexing and his ass right there, so full and perfectly round, like the most beautiful sweet buns I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.
I want to ice them.
“Coming?” Joey calls, grabbing our towels off the dock.
I blow out a breath.
So very definitely not straight.
Once inside the house, Joey and I make sandwiches to bring out onto the boat. Mama Delgado pulls out a small cooler for us, adding a few drinks and a small container of pasta salad to round out our lunch.
“Have fun,” she tells us, giving my cheek a pat before shooing us out the door.
“Your mom’s the best,” I tell Joey again, the two of us walking back across the lawn, t-shirts on now so we don’t get too crispy.
“I know,” he says simply.
Joey grabs an inflatable tube from the shed, offering me a ride out to the boat because he’s a goddamn gentleman like that.
He holds it steady near the end of the dock. “Ready, sailor?”
“Aye aye, Captain,” I reply with a grin. “Raise ye flagpole and prepare to be boarded because this seaman is ready to ride.”
Joey blinks at me.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “I just heard it.”
He snorts, keeping the tube balanced as I climb on. “For the record, you can jump aboard my flagpole anytime you’d like.”
“ Nooo ,” I groan, holding the cooler close and glancing over my shoulder. “No sexy talk, Joey-roo. There are parentals about, which means I don’t need to be sporting a kangaroo-induced boner.”
“Is that different than a regular boner?” he asks curiously, dragging me out toward the boat.
“Far more trigger happy,” I explain.
He looks oh so happy about the effect he has on me, the smug, lovely man.
“Just so you know,” he says, waist-deep in the water now, “that was not my sexy talk.”
“What? I thought it was sexy.”
He makes a sound almost like a huff, stopping and spinning toward me, his hands on the side of my raft. “Bub, if I wanted to give you a boner, I’d tell you that as soon as you’re ready for it, I’ll show you what it feels like to have someone inside of you. I’ll open you up with my fingers. One, then two, then three, until you’re begging to feel how much further I can reach with my cock. I’ll introduce you to your prostate, make you ache in the best possible way, and only then will you find out what it’s like to be fucked within an inch of your life. And you’ll thank me for it.”
“Holy fuck,” I breathe. “You’re a cruel, wonderful man, Joey Francis Delgado.”
He tugs me in by the back of my neck, kissing me soundly. “Come on. We’ve got a metaphorical flagpole to raise.”
“Flagpole is already up,” I mumble, adjusting myself as the waves pass underneath, a gentle sway I could get used to.
Maybe there were signs before Joey. Things I missed or didn’t question when it came to men around me. But it doesn’t matter. Because this, here and now, is a pretty big deal. In fact…
Step seven in Brad’s Guide to Finding Himself and— fuck —Falling in Love:
Learn a new self-truth .
I’m bi. And even if I had never acted on my feelings for Joey, I knew that to be true the moment I called Cas from behind Joey’s garage. So no, it doesn’t matter if Joey is the only man I end up wanting. And it doesn’t matter if the labels I choose change over time as our language evolves or as my own understanding of myself grows. None of it will negate the fact that I’m attracted to Joey now. On pretty much every level I could be.
And that my feelings for my gym-bud turned friend turned… more …are far more complicated than not platonic .