Best Friends, Tennessee (Hard Spot Saloon #1)

3. Ori

3

ORI

Old flames? Tennessee feels more like an old inferno, if you ask me, Dolly.

“Hell, no,” I said to Finn’s outstretched hand. Even though he was always kind of sweet when he was buzzed, I wasn’t stepping foot anywhere near that dance floor.

“C’mon,” he said confidently. He gave me the come here motion with his fingers.

I was enjoying denying him. “I’m not dancing to any song this old unless I’m at a club and they play Abba.”

Finn stared at me with a look I hadn’t seen from him in years.

I used to call it The Eyes. Sometimes when he was drinking, Finn seemed to think that if he just looked at me a certain way, I would do what he asked. He was used to getting what he wanted. Sometimes it worked on me, but tonight, it wasn’t going to.

“You’re nervous,” Finn said with full confidence.

“Shut up.” I turned away and took a sip of my margarita.

“I know you’re nervous,” he told me. “Come on.”

“Nervous definitely ain’t the word for it,” I said.

A tiny smile appeared on Finn’s face. “Your drawl’s coming back out. That only happens when you’re really tired, or you’re fucking nervous .”

Something flared inside me, and I bit the inside of my cheek.

I’d ironed out any trace of a southern accent from my voice by high school, but Finn had made it his mission to catch any hint of it ever since then.

He was still full of shit about me being nervous, though.

“Well, I am tired,” I said. “Just got done with a pretty long road trip, if you don’t remember.”

Finn finally waved me off, shaking his head. “You’re the one missing out if you don’t dance with me, glitter boy.”

I polished off the rest of my margarita and stood up to head to the bathroom. When I walked toward the narrow hallway, I realized Finn had followed me. He reached for my arm, trying to pull me toward the dance floor.

He was being gentle, but I still gave him a warning look. “Wanna bet?” I said.

Something shifted in his eyes.

That phrase meant something to us. We always used to say it whenever things started to escalate between the two of us back in school. Sometimes it just led to something simple, like an arm wrestle or a snowball fight, but other times, it could end with us wrestling each other to the ground, punching each other, or ripping each other to shreds with the best insults a high schooler could muster.

“Sure do,” Finn said, holding my gaze. “Thought you knew you couldn’t take me anymore.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Finn,” I said.

Something twinkled in his eyes. “ You wanna bet?”

There it was. His ego, finally coming out to play.

I didn’t hesitate.

In an instant, I gripped my hand around his forearm and pulled him forward, twisting him until his back was to the wall.

My heart was pounding already. Adrenaline surged through me, pushing away the stressed-out energy that had built up since I’d entered Tennessee.

I kept him shoved up against the wall, my breath quickening slightly, the smell of beer coming through the air.

It had been a long time since I’d been physical like this with him. I’d caught him off-guard, but I was still aware that he could probably take me, anytime he wanted.

Finn’s look of shock quickly transformed into a hard stare. He had some of the prettiest, kindest eyes I’d ever seen, but even through that kindness, he knew how to give someone a death glare.

I knew he was going to retaliate a split second before it happened. He grabbed me by the front of my jacket and spun me around, easily pinning me up against the wall a whole lot more gracefully than I’d done it to him.

Suddenly his forearm was across my chest, like a big, heavy bar. My shoulder had connected with the wood on the wall, hitting my bone, and it throbbed now.

I really fucking liked that feeling.

I wanted to sock him in his face, yes.

I wanted to toy with him as much as humanly possible.

But finally we were doing more than just talking.

He kept me stuck against the wall. “You know you can’t fight me,” he threatened me in a low voice, but his tone was still completely calm. “Couldn’t fight back in high school, and you sure as fuck can’t fight me now.”

Each rise and fall of my chest reminded me of the weight of his arm bar on me. He smelled like citrus from the orange slice that had been in his beer, and I caught a whiff of his body wash. Masculine. That was the only way to describe his scent.

I didn’t break his gaze.

A moment later I tried to move and slide out to one side, but he pushed me right back up against the wall.

“Come on,” I told him.

“You going to fucking relax?”

I met his eyes. For some reason I couldn’t stop glancing at his lips, seeing them so close to my face. A flash of memory hit me: one afternoon, in high school, I’d been walking alone in the hallway between classes and I’d overheard Natalie Brown talking to her best friend in a hushed tone. I knew that Finn had visited her house the night before. “He’s a really good kisser, ” Natalie had said to her friend. “Honestly, I could like, only make out with him for the rest of my life and be happy. His tongue…”

I snapped back to the present moment, blinking and trying to shift underneath his arm. A warmth spread below my belly button, dropping a little lower.

The sound of another Dolly Parton song came through the air and people started singing along and laughing in the main area of the bar.

“Forgot you just want to fight all the time,” I murmured.

“I don’t fight anyone other than you,” he said. “And you started it. Think you’re aware of that.”

Yeah. I guess I did.

Sometimes this was the only way we could communicate, back when we were forced to live together senior year. After getting physical, both of us could chill out, split up, and eat together at the dinner table—nice and civil again.

“Get off me,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to shove you that hard, and you know it. It was an accident.”

He hummed. “You are stronger than you used to be, though,” he said.

Finally, all at once, he let me go, his forearm brushing over my chest as he released me.

I fixed my jacket. When I looked back at him I saw that he had gold glitter all across his arm and chest now, too.

I smiled at him and then a smile spread over his face, too. He shook his head.

“Like old times,” I said, stretching my neck.

“Why fight me when you could just come dance?” he protested.

“I’ll dance with you, darlin,” a woman’s voice called out from behind us. We turned to see a brunette in a red dress, coming up behind Finn. She was drop-dead gorgeous and she looked at Finn like she wanted him to knock her up with triplets tonight.

“Evening,” Finn said to her with a nod, quickly going back into total gentleman mode.

“Going to freshen up, then I want to join you out on the dance floor,” she said to Finn. As she walked by, she dragged her manicured nails across his chest, smiling at him.

She disappeared into the restroom, leaving a light floral perfume scent in the air.

“If you bring her home tonight,” I told Finn, “you better fuck quietly . That’s all I’m saying.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “She seems fun, but I’m not an asshole. I’m not bringing her home on your first night here.”

I pulled in a breath. “Up to you, big boy. I’m going to go take a piss.”

When I came back out from the restroom they were already out on the dance floor, hand in hand.

That was something that would never change. Finn got a lot of attention.

I used to be jealous. Not of the girls, necessarily, but of the amount of time he spent with them in high school. I wanted good things for him, so I never said it out loud. But I noticed how our time together dwindled, the moment high school started. I didn’t want to demand more of his time, but instead, I created an ever-growing rift between us by never asking for more time with him.

I’d been too afraid.

And that rift was still here today.

I wasn’t jealous of the attention Finn got anymore. I was proud. But he still didn’t seem to notice how easy it was for him to be well-liked. Something I’d never had.

But does a fish know it's in water? Finn had always been liked, so he barely even noticed it.

It was a whole lot harder for me to find attention from guys in Bestens. It had been easy in LA, but even the guys in small-town Tennessee who were gay tended to be ranchers, cowboys, and, well… guys like Finn, but less straight.

It had always been slim pickings for an artsy guy like me who dreamed more of sex in a glittering penthouse than getting fucked over a hay bale.

…Not that I’d say no to getting fucked over a hay bale.

Not these days.

Maybe that was a sign of maturity. I’d probably even be willing to shack up with a gay cowboy type guy these days, as long as he treated me well. They weren’t my type, but even I had to admit they probably looked incredible naked.

I sat down and grabbed a second margarita. Max and Kane chatted with me a little, and a couple of times, Finn looked over at me. I could see the sparkle of the gold glitter that had rubbed off on him, even from the bar.

“Two more lattes! Dad! Do you have them coming?”

Danielle’s voice cut through the loud chatter and clanging of silverware in the diner.

“Can’t do it, Danielle,” Dad’s voice called back. “Cannot do it.”

I was on milkshake duty during my first shift back. A group with a bunch of kids had just ordered six different ones, and I scooped out what felt like the thousandth scoop of fresh strawberry ice cream today.

I glanced over at Danielle, who was racing over to Dad’s side right as he started smacking the espresso machine with his palm.

“Hitting it won’t make it work,” Danielle told him.

“Hot water!” Dad said, his eyes wild beneath his gray hair. “Make it hot!”

“Yelling at it won’t work either,” I chimed in.

I was running on fumes, and the afternoon rush and Dad fighting with machines wasn’t helping.

Last night, I’d barely been able to sleep. I was bone tired, but I kept tossing and turning in Finn’s guest room on the uncomfortable mattress. I’d jerked off twice and still hadn’t been able to drift off, even though that was typically a surefire way to make it happen.

Now I was paying the price. The diner was busy as fuck today, like a little welcome home from the entire goddamn town of Bestens.

“It’s a coffee maker!” my dad’s voice cut through the din. “Beans in , coffee out . Why won’t it spit out the coffee?”

“It’s an espresso machine, Dad—and that part is for steaming milk—”

“I still can’t believe we have a real espresso machine now,” I said as I scooped out mint chip ice cream for one of the next shakes.

To say the Red Fox Diner was “old school” was a bit of an understatement.

Danielle sighed between me and our dad. “People kept coming in asking for lattes and cappuccinos, so I thought an espresso machine would be a good investment for the business, but—”

“Oat milk almond lattes,” Dad said, as if he was describing something as ridiculous as flying cars.

“Dad hates the machine. Some of the instructions are in Italian.”

Dad came over toward me, grabbing a wet towel. “I don’t hate the latte machine. It’s just pointless. We’re Red Fox. This isn’t Italy.”

My parents had bought the Red Fox Diner back when Bestens was even smaller than it was now. The previous owner had practically begged them to take it off her hands back in the eighties, and they’d kept it running as a local hub ever since.

“You won’t think it’s pointless when it helps us pay our bills,” Danielle called over. She was pushing buttons on the shiny, stainless steel machine, trying to fix it. “People will pay four bucks for a good cappuccino. Five or six, if it has the oat milk or almond milk in it.”

“Not Bestens people,” Dad said as he joined her side again. “Red Fox people ain’t paying six bucks for a cup of coffee.”

“Sure they will, for the special espresso drinks,” Danielle said. “No—Dad—don't touch that part, it’s going to be hotter than hell—”

“Fuck,” my dad swore under his breath. “Yeah, um, Ori, glad you’re back in town, kiddo. When can you learn this thing so I don’t have to do it anymore?”

“Well, I’ve been making milkshakes for so long my hands are frozen solid, so if you want to swap—”

“No, no, you stay on those,” Dad said. There was nothing he hated more than the milkshake station. “But learn this coffee maker afterward. Crowd of people from the car show are going to be rolling in at four-thirty or five o’clock.”

“They don’t sound like the espresso kind of crowd.”

“They like steak and eggs,” he said, “but maybe their kids like the oat shit.”

Danielle snorted. “Don’t call it oat shit.”

“Yeah. Sounds like goat shit, doesn’t it?” Dad muttered, then both of them snickered, despite themselves.

“And stop calling it a coffee maker,” Danielle told him. “We have plenty of normal coffee makers still, Dad.”

“And God, do I fuckin’ love ‘em,” Dad said, smacking the countertop.

My dad had basically been stuck in 1996 since 1996, and while it was another thing I’d found embarrassing as a kid, now I mostly just found it endearing. At least when it wasn’t holding up a rush in the diner.

Danielle gave me a sympathetic look, putting her long, black hair up in a bun. “Ori, don’t worry about us over here, I’ve got the machine covered.”

“It’s spitting out sewer water! Is the damn thing pulling from the wrong pipe—” Dad was saying now.

“It is not sewer water, it’s just the cleaning cycle,” Danielle said calmly. “It's water with remnants of espresso.”

“I’ll try to learn the espresso machine after my break,” I promised them. I could already hear a young kid screaming I want it! , over and over again, which let me know I was being too slow on the milkshakes.

To say the Red Fox Diner was “red fox themed” was an understatement.

There were framed pictures of Tennessee red foxes on every flat surface of the place.

The little fox logo was printed on all of our red mugs, and the booths were dark red. The pendant lights were also red. Even the barstools along the front counter were chrome with red leather tops, and the registers themselves were red, too.

I hadn’t liked all of that when I was a teenager, too, dreaming of fancier, sleek cafés in big cities. But this amount of old-school charm was hard to come by, these days. I’d always liked that the diner was on a corner lot, too—the big windows made for good corner street views and people watching the slow bustle outside.

I’d worked at the diner for two years during high school, part of the time with Finn, and I thought I’d never work here again.

But it was the only guaranteed employment I had right now. I was going to look for local art-related job postings every day online, but it was slim pickings around here.

“Oh, Dani, sweetie,” Mom said as she came behind the counter, carrying a stack of plates. “Did you tell Ori about the new morning baker? His name is Thomas and he is so similar to you, Ori.”

Mom walked into the back kitchen, spraying down some dishes.

I leaned over to whisper in Danielle’s ear.

“Let me guess. That’s Mom’s code for saying that the nice, new morning baker named Thomas is gay , isn’t it?” I asked Danielle.

Danielle gave me a wicked smile. “Sure is.”

“Knew it.”

“You’ll love him!” Mom called out from the kitchen.

I turned back to Dani. “Mom may as well have said there’s a nice twink here, and boy, does he really know how to glaze a donut, Ori! ” I said under my breath.

Danielle started cracking up.

I finally finished the long row of milkshakes and Mom came out with a fresh tray to take all of them out to the big group booth in the corner.

“We’ve got it now, Dani,” Dad said to her from the espresso machine. “Go home and get Olivia. Babysitter has to leave at four o’clock, right?”

“Four o’clock on the dot,” Danielle said, letting out a sigh. “You think you’ll be okay for the rest of today, Ori?”

“I’ve got it. It’s all coming back to me, like… riding a bike while kids scream at you in the background.”

Danielle nodded. “Exactly. I’m glad to have you back. Kick ass tonight.”

Soon I was deep into another long order of milkshakes, but the rest of my shift at the diner was shockingly easy.

The after-work crowd wasn’t as bad as the afternoon one had been. Some things hadn’t changed since this was my after-school job.

Things got calmer as the hours wore on and the sun went down.

On my break, I even had a little time to sit at one of the tables outside. I pulled out my mini sketchbook and did a quick little watercolor of the street corner, Laurel Ave & Second St.

It was pretty, when I paid enough attention to it. There was the cobblestone, the fountain across the street, and the front entrance of the Hard Spot Saloon. For a small town, this corner was always pretty busy, too, with families and teenagers and people walking dogs.

Around this time of night, back in LA, I’d have been deep in a shift at the art gallery, serving fancy wine and cheese to richer-than-hell art collectors while listening to jazz music. It was cutthroat. I had to drop everything, the moment any wealthy person walked through the door. Most of the time I had worked through my “breaks,” and I certainly never had time to paint watercolors.

My first shift back at Red Fox was surprisingly… not shitty.

Not like my high school memories at all.

I drove the short distance back to Finn’s, leaving my car windows down.

The air was brisk. The smell of grass and fresh flowers was so strong here in the spring, and the humidity in the air tonight made it even sweeter.

At least it didn’t smell like soil and manure. I let my arm rest on the edge of the window as I drove down the neighborhood streets.

I could already tell something was different when I pulled into Finn’s driveway.

There was a little white car in front of the house that probably didn’t belong to one of Finn’s buddies, because there was a pink sparkly border around its license plate. I hadn’t seen Finn all day, and had no idea what his plans were. Yesterday he’d come home late from the saloon, and this morning he’d already been out at the ranch by the time I left for the diner.

When I walked inside, I saw Finn in the kitchen, standing next to a tall redhead.

“Oh. Hi,” I said, an awkward heat already rising in my chest.

I’d only been here for a day, and already, I was walking in on Finn with a woman.

“Christina, this is Ori,” Finn said, pushing his hair back as I walked into the kitchen. “Ori and I were good friends growing up. He’s staying with me ‘til he finds his own place back here in town.”

Finn looked like he’d dressed up, which basically just meant he was wearing a light-blue fitted sweater rather than his usual T-shirt, jeans, or flannel.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking her hand.

“I was just heading out,” she said, “but I hope you two have a good night.”

“Thanks for coming over,” Finn told her, leaning in to give her a quick hug.

“No problem at all, Finn,” she said. “Enjoy the jams. See you around, Ori.”

She headed out the front door, grabbing a small cardboard box that had been near the entryway as she left.

I shifted awkwardly.

I wanted to encourage him to date, not put a damper on it. I felt like I was in the way, and definitely like I’d interrupted something.

When she was gone, I turned to Finn.

“So I guess I caught you after a fuck session, not before?” I asked, trying to make a joke and cut through the tension in the air.

“Neither, smartass,” Finn said, heading back into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, grabbing a jar of jam and spreading some on a fresh piece of bread. He took a big bite, humming to himself. “God, this is good. Try this.”

He handed it to me and I took a bite. The jam had a fresh flavor, probably the best one I’d ever had.

“Damn. That really is good. Is that just regular grape jam? Where is that from?”

“Christina makes them herself. All sorts of different fruit flavors. She’s good at that stuff.”

“She should sell these.”

“I tried to tell her that, too, but she doesn’t have time,” Finn said, taking another bite. “She’s always at the hospital. She’s a pediatrician.”

“Jesus Christ, Finn,” I said. “You’re hooking up with a woman who’s nice, beautiful, great at making jam, and a fucking doctor? You’re the luckiest guy in Tennessee.”

“Not hooking up. Ex-girlfriend,” he murmured, polishing off the last of the bread.

“Oh,” I said.

He gave me a look.

“What?” I protested.

“Assume much?”

I rolled my eyes. “You could have told me earlier that she was your ex. Not my fault I assumed you two were fucking each other’s brains out before I walked in.”

“What was I supposed to say? Ori, this is Christina, my most recent ex? We broke up because she’d rather date her hot doctor colleague? ”

Damn.

There was an iceberg of history underneath the things Finn said, sometimes.

I wished he would just talk about things with me again, like he used to, but… as usual, everything had changed.

“I mean, you could have mentioned something ,” I said.

Finn breathed deep. “We broke up a few weeks ago. She needed to grab some clothes she’d left here. End of story.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Well, maybe there’s a lot of shit you don’t know about me, these days.”

I paused, feeling the barb in his comment. “I know the important stuff.”

I felt like he was thinking something that he wouldn’t say.

For the first time in years, when I looked at him right now, I saw Finn—the Finn I knew, not just some guy trying to look like a cowboy.

Weirdly, it made me soften a bit to the idea of his Western-style clothes and cowboy hat, though.

Like maybe, he was using that style as a sort of armor.

Maybe it made him feel like he was a part of something, like he belonged somewhere. In high school he’d had the football team, but now, he needed somewhere to belong.

Finn had always needed that.

“Sorry I assumed, then,” I told him. “And sorry it was a rough breakup.”

I reached into the fridge and grabbed one of the bottles of electrolyte water that Finn always had near the front. I took a sip of the cold, lemon-flavored drink and Finn leaned on the kitchen counter.

“Not as much of a sob story as you’d think. She did want to date the hot doctor, but I also…”

“Let me guess,” I said. “You weren’t really into the relationship? You were happy to drop her like a hot potato?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Not quite. I’m not like you.”

I furrowed my brow. “Hey, just because I don’t do commitment doesn’t mean I didn’t respect the guys in LA.”

He puffed out a laugh, looking at the floor. “I know. You told me, last Christmas. You always treat guys well, and you let them know it’s no-strings-attached.”

I was surprised Finn remembered me saying that.

“Exactly,” I said.

I’d never felt ashamed that I wasn’t looking for long-term love back in LA. I’d just never felt ready for it.

Not even a little bit ready.

I didn’t know what it would take for me to be ready to commit, but I sure as hell hadn’t found it in Los Angeles, no matter how many hot guys I found.

“Well, something weird happened,” Finn finally said, peering over at me. “And I probably shouldn't have told Christina about it.”

There.

Finally.

He was finally saying something real. Maybe even opening up to me.

Please, Finn, don’t make me beg for it?

I raised my eyebrows, trying to seem mostly nonchalant. “Okay, now you’ve got me wondering.”

“Initially, Christina said she wanted to take a break,” he told me, crossing his arms. “We were both allowed to fuck other people, but we weren’t sure if we were… fully done with each other yet, either.”

“Doesn’t sound like a clean break,” I said. “Sounds kind of messy.”

“It got messy,” Finn said.

“How messy?”

“I was naive, and should have known better.”

I winced. “Did you sleep with another girl?” I asked, taking another sip.

Finn gave me a hard stare.

“I, uh… let another guy suck my dick.”

I snorted. “Good one.”

“Not kidding.”

“You should be a comedian, Finn. Maybe it’s your calling.”

His lips didn’t budge into his usual, easy smile, though.

“Ori, I meant it when I said you don’t know everything about me anymore.”

It cut to the core this time.

No shot.

No shot in fucking hell Finn had let his dick anywhere in a two-foot radius of another guy’s mouth.

“A guy sucked you off?” I asked, still giving him a doubtful stare.

He breathed deep, looking down at the kitchen mat on the floor and uncrossing his arms.

“I got drunk at Hard Spot,” Finn said. “There was a guy who was visiting from out of town somewhere. Illinois or Indiana, I can’t remember. He seemed lonely so I chatted with him, and after I started drinking I ended up spilling my guts to him. I was in a bad place.”

“You told him about your break with Christina?”

Finn’s eyelashes were two dark rows as he looked down at the floor. “Told him about that. And told him about you.”

I furrowed my brow. “What about me?”

“That my best friend left town years ago and that it didn’t feel like we’d ever get our friendship back,” Finn said quickly, like he was trying to mechanically force the words out of his mouth. “I don’t remember. It was dumb.”

This was almost harder to believe than the dick sucking part.

Finn rarely opened up to anyone, especially not strangers. He was always extremely friendly and kind, but he didn’t get personal.

Really, he only used to get personal with me .

“Christ, Finn,” I said softly.

“He was staying at the inn across the street, and when he invited me back to his room, I was… even more dumb. I thought he really just wanted to watch a movie with a friendly face, but…”

“Bless your heart,” I said, not caring that my southern drawl came out a little as I said it.

Finn met my eyes, and I felt like I was looking right into his soul for a moment.

“He said I was really hot. He complimented me a lot, and said he hadn’t sucked dick in a while. I was flattered. He said that talking to me was the best thing that had happened to him in months.”

I raised my eyebrows. “So you just let him suck you off because you felt like he was a nice guy?”

Finn shrugged. “I was curious. What the hell else do you want from me?”

“You’re the straightest guy I know,” I protested.

“A mouth is a mouth, and I did get along well with him,” Finn said. “Back in ancient history, guys sucked other guys’ dicks all the time.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

“You were curious ,” I repeated, lost for any other words.

I felt like my entire world had just gone upside-down and Finn was acting like it was just a random night at a bar.

“I felt weird for a couple of weeks afterward,” Finn said. “I questioned a lot of things. I, uh, looked at the gay parts of dating apps and tried to see if I was actually attracted to guys, but that was a bust.”

“You didn’t tell me any of this?”

His eyes were smoldering. “We haven’t told each other shit in years, Ori.”

I couldn’t argue with that, either.

“Wow.”

“Anyway, the thought of dating any of those guys or even kissing dudes didn’t appeal to me, so I realized it was just a weird one-time thing. I was drunk, sad, and drifting. When I told Christina, it definitely solidified that we were broken up for good, though.”

“You didn’t have to tell her about that night, Finn.”

“I know,” he said. “But… you know. I had to get it off my chest.”

I was quiet for a while. The low humming sound of the refrigerator filled the air between us.

When I looked at Finn now, I couldn’t stop thinking about another guy on his knees, taking Finn’s cock into his mouth.

Another guy had sucked him off .

In a million years I wouldn’t have believed Finn could do something like that.

I swallowed, looking up at him again. “Well. Thanks for telling me the part where you were sad about me leaving town, at least.”

He exhaled. “Don’t read too much into that. I was always proud of you for making it out to LA. That night was just a bad time. I was lonely.”

My head was still spinning.

I needed to get out and pound the pavement to clear my head, sooner rather than later, and if I had to look at Finn any longer I was pretty sure I’d spontaneously combust.

“I’m going to go for a run,” I said. “Want to come? Blow off some steam?”

Finn gave me a look that was half mischief, half guilt. “Well…”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to the Hard Spot again.”

He gave me a sheepish look. “I have a date tonight.”

“For fuck’s sake, Finn.”

“I know, I know.”

“Here I was feeling bad for you,” I said, “when you’ve got yourself a romantic little evening planned out already.”

“Trust me, I’d rather go on a run,” Finn said. “But I ran into Maddy Hagerson at the store earlier.”

“Wow, Maddy,” I said. “Haven’t thought about her in years. She always liked you.”

“Yeah,” Finn said, scratching the back of his head.

“All right. Have fun, Finn,” I said, already walking down the hallway to change into my workout clothes. “Like I said yesterday, if you bring her back here and fuck her, just please, God, do it quietly.”

“I’m just going to show her a good time, not have sex with her,” he protested.

Yeah, maybe you’ll find a nice, sweet gay guy to suck your cock instead .

Normally I’d have said that joke out loud.

“Have fun,” I called back to him, trying to act like I always acted toward him. I stepped into the guest room and shut the door behind me, leaning my back up against the cool wood and taking a breath.

My body was still so hot. Thinking about Finn doing anything with a guy was… well, it didn’t even feel possible .

Goddamnit.

A strange possessive streak hit me like a blast of fire the moment I was alone. I’d been Finn’s only openly gay friend through all of high school, and he’d never even let on a sliver of curiosity about anything having to do with men.

Part of me felt like I’d missed out on some key moment for him.

If I’d been in town, I could have been there. I could have heard the story right after it happened, or even been there with him that night.

He needed someone that night, and I’d been off in LA, completely certain that Finn was on his usual, predictable life track.

But another corner of my mind was being activated, too.

A bad one.

One that said this is kind of hot, actually.

Maybe the first really hot thing Finn’s ever told you.

It’s almost a turn-on.

My cock ached.

I was actually getting hard now that I was alone in the guest room, the sound of Finn’s low voice still on repeat in my mind.

Back in the day, I’d never let it affect me when he talked about his sexual escapades.

I’d always just thrown jokes back at him, playing chicken and seeing how many sexual things I could say before he burst out laughing. When we were teenagers it was one of the surefire ways to get him squirming, but he'd enjoyed it just as much as I had.

Fuck it .

Honestly, I’d probably already been at a half-chub before he made the comment, because I’d wanted to come home and jerk off before my run, anyway. He did look good in that blue sweater he was wearing. I was pretty sure I’d seen a guy wearing one like it in a video I watched last night while jerking off, right before another guy ripped it off of him and sucked him off on the rooftop of a building, and Jesus Christ , now I was picturing Finn with his cock out on top of a building and I needed to stop.

It felt like every cell in my body was on fire. From my spot up against the door I could hear Finn singing along to a country song in the kitchen, only making things worse.

The thing is, I knew Finn must be a good fuck.

I could tell from the massage videos he posted, and from the practice massages he’d given me back in the day, when we were finishing senior year and he was first toying with the idea of doing massage therapy after high school.

He was good at it. To say the least.

Finn had a natural feel for people’s bodies that was on another level.

So if I really stopped and let myself think about how intuitive he must be when he was with women in bed, or a guy at the inn… it only made sense that I had a natural, human response to it. Purely physical.

He cannot ever know about this , I told myself, gripping my cock and starting to stroke it. I thought about anything and everything but him—mostly trying to focus on my memory of that video I watched last night.

I knew he’d probably get some deep satisfaction in knowing he could get me a little turned on.

I wasn’t going to feed his ego like that.