Wes
After my shower, I pop a piece of bubble gum into my mouth and fall into bed, still naked.
I blow a bubble and text Jett. We’ve been fucking around a lot, and as good as it feels, I want to do something outside of sex.
And I desperately need art on my walls next to my bed, not that I didn’t sleep hard as fuck the other night after we blew each other.
It’s Saturday, and an arts-and-crafts event is going on in Eugene. Since it’s the second-to-last week of October, there are only three dates left before the event closes for the winter, so I want to check it out today.
Me: Yo, you up?
Whiplash: It’s my time to sleep in.
I smile at that. For someone still sleeping, he sure did answer quickly.
Me: Sleep when you’re dead. Let’s go do
something.
Whiplash: Do what?
Me: Have you been to the Eugene
Saturday Market yet?
Whiplash: No
Me: Pulling teeth, bro. I guess I have to
spell it out.
Me: Do you want to go with me? I need
pictures on my walls. There will be food,
music, and shit.
The dots keep appearing and disappearing, but he’s not sending anything.
Whiplash: When?
I roll my eyes and snap my gum. Jesus, this guy. Communication is definitely not his strong suit.
Me: It starts at 10, plenty of time to
snooze for another hour.
Before he shoots me another one-worded response, I tell him to meet me at my place at 9:30.
I set my phone next to me and cup my cock, ready to rub one out for the hundredth time.
Ugh. No. Don’t go there. You’ve fucked your hand enough, Wes.
Jett has sent my already high sex drive careening on an interstate highway.
I’ve been perpetually horny since we angrily stroked each other that first time.
Besides, why use my hand when I have a perfectly capable mouth attached to a broody, sexy runner?
The day is overcast with the threat of rain later. There are tents of all colors lining sidewalks, selling their wares and crafts. Kids run by with painted faces, exhausted parents chasing after them.
I’m cramming my mouth full of funnel cake, getting powdered sugar everywhere, but fuck, it’s good.
“Wanna bite?” I ask Jett with my mouth full. He’s sitting next to me on a park bench as we people-watch.
He scrunches his nose.
“Come on. Unhealthy treats once in a while are good for the soul.”
“My soul may like it, not so much my pancreas.”
I snort a laugh and take another bite of the sweet fried dough. “Party pooper.”
Jett looks at me and taps his cheek. I can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, so I have no idea what he’s referring to. Then he does it again.
Does he want me to kiss him?
I shrug and lean forward. With a glance around the crowd, I press a kiss to his cheek.
“Wes.” He smiles widely and shakes his head. He reaches for my face, swiping away some sugar on my cheek, then he sucks on his thumb.
I wince at my stupidity, yet I’m strangely turned on. Weird combo. “You’re gonna get me hard, bro.”
“Can’t have that… Fine, give me a bite.”
I lift the cake to Jett’s mouth, and he takes a small bite, chewing slowly. “Not bad.”
“See? Doesn’t your soul feel better now?”
He chuckles softly. “It does.”
When I’m done, I toss the paper plate in the garbage and wipe my hands on a flimsy napkin.
We start walking by each stand, checking out what they’re selling. I stop at one with handcrafted soap. I lift one and sniff it. “Mmm, salty air, firewood, and amber. Reminds me of bonfire nights in Cannon Beach. Did you ever go?”
I place the soap up to Jett’s nose, and he takes a whiff. “Once. Snuck out of the house. I had training the next morning, so I wasn’t allowed to go.” A shadow moves across his face.
“Did you get caught?”
He shrugs and lifts another bar of soap, smelling it. “This smells like you.”
It has scents of fresh water and citrus. “Yeah, not bad.” I look at the lady. “I’ll take both of these.”
After I pay her, she bags them up and hands them to me.
“What happened?” I ask him, always needing to poke and prod to get answers out of Mr. Whiplash. Honestly, I’m kind of surprised he came out with me today.
“Got in trouble, what else?”
The next stand sells candles, and I smell those, too. I buy one for my condo.
“What’s your family like?” I’m not sure whether he really wants to know or is deflecting.
“Man, they’re the best. Seriously. Mom had me really young. Boyfriend got her pregnant at sixteen. When he found out, he ditched her and eventually moved away.”
“Do you know him?”
I shrug as we make our way to a vendor selling home-roasted coffee beans. “Nah, never met him.”
“That must’ve been hard.”
“Honestly? Not really. I don’t care one way or another about him.
We had to live with my grandparents. Mom struggled to hold jobs because she has some brain damage from a fall when she was younger, but she’s had a job at the grocery store for years now.
It doesn’t affect her intellect or anything else, though she struggles to speak, and it can sometimes affect her mood.
She’s been an incredibly supportive mother.
My grandma is the sweetest and will cook you meals until you explode.
Granddad became my father figure. He’s amazing.
They all are, but I’m especially close to him.
Money has always been tight, but love made up for it.
Now that I have a good job, I can finally help them out. ”
I look up at Jett and wince. “Sorry, whenever someone asks me about my family, I tend to go overboard.”
He smiles softly. “It’s… nice.”
“How about you?”
He keeps looking straight ahead as we make our way to the next stand. “Just your average family, I guess.”
I wave him on, but he’s not offering anything else. He shares his life in crumbs. That’s it. “You have to give me more than that, my guy.”
He sighs. “I’m close with my sister and her kids. My brother-in-law is pretty cool, too.”
“Oh, yeah! That picture you got. That’s so sweet. Part of me wishes I had siblings so I could have nephews and nieces. Though maybe I’ll have kids one day. Who knows?”
I slide my palm into his and thread our fingers together. Jett tenses for a moment, but soon relaxes. “Is this okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s… fine.”
“If you haven’t noticed, I tend to dive in headfirst.”
Jett laughs lightly. “I noticed.”
“You only live once, amirite?”
“I guess,” he says. Finally, we come across a stand that sells paintings. “Here we go.”
I drop Jett’s hand and hold up a print of a curled-up deer with long horns threaded with flowers and birds. It’s pretty, but her art is a little too whimsical for me, so I thank her, and we move on, holding hands again.
The next artist features some abstract art and some animals. All are mostly black, white, and gray. While the art is gorgeous, I need color.
I like this. Jett and I aren’t at each other’s throats, he’s letting me hold his hand, and he’s said more than five words to me.
I call that an accomplishment. Part of me wants to ask what happened to him, but I’m not sure he’s ready for that.
Getting him to open up is like trying to open a can of vegetables with your fingernails.
We’re more than halfway through exploring the stands, and I haven’t found any art that I like enough to put on my walls. I’m almost about to give up when something catches my eye. Dragging Jett with me, we stop at one artist’s stall, and I’m instantly drawn to his work.
I look through all his prints and pull out two that resemble an abstract form beneath the ocean.
Yes, it’s kind of whimsical, but it’s stunning.
The colors are vibrant, and there are all sorts of shapes representing coral, anemones, and jellyfish.
The art is actually intricate. Lots of detail in something so abstract. “Wow, Dennis would love these.”
I end up buying the two ocean-like matted prints for Dennis, and two similar ones for my walls. I’ll have to get them framed.
“How much for the original of this?” I ask the artist, holding up the print with the large jellyfish in the center.
“That’s selling for four thousand, but it’s currently in a gallery.”
“Bummer. Maybe if I were rich,” I chuckle. “I’ll take these.”
He processes my order as I watch Jett finger through some of the prints. He pulls out one that’s geometric, abstract, and vibrant with a mix of colors, set against a deep yellow background. “What do you think?”
“I think that’s gorgeous. For you?”
“Yeah. The colors remind me of the Ivory Coast.” I smile at that as he goes on. “My dad’s parents are from there.”
“That’s cool. And your mom?”
“Her parents are originally from Trinidad.”
“You ever go?”
“To Trinidad?”
“Yeah. Or Africa.”
He shakes his head, looking wistful. “No, never.” He hesitates. “But I’d love to one day.”
“Until you do, you’ll have this to remind you of your family and your dreams. And we’re supporting the local artists. Cool!”
He smiles slowly. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“Sure. I’m really glad you came.” Today is the first time I’ve looked at Jett and wondered if we could be more than a hookup. This feels almost like a real date, and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.
After our purchases, instead of heading back, I grab his hand again and pull him to a stop. “Hey, the farmer’s market is open. How about I buy some stuff and make you dinner tonight?
Please say yes, I beg with my eyes. I really want to get to know Jett more. After spending today with him, I know there’s a lot more to him than he’s showing me.
“Can you even cook?” he smirks like an asshole, and I’m totally here for it.
“Oh! Did Jett just make a joke? Who knew he had a sense of humor?”
His smile turns crooked, and he shakes his head. “Yeah, sure. Why not? I’d love dinner.”
We head over to the farmer’s market, and this time it’s Jett who takes my hand to hold. Meanwhile, I’m smiling like a kid who’s tasting ice cream for the first time.
“I expected you to be more flirtatious and less… hand-holdy,” he says.
I shrug as we come to a stop at a vegetable vendor from a local farm. I lift a cucumber and sniff it. “I’ve always been affectionate.” I put two of them into a brown paper bag and choose a red onion. “I make a mean chicken shawarma grain bowl.”
“That sounds really good, actually.”
“Grandma taught me how to cook, and I’ve expanded my knowledge to make sure I get all those nutrients you need to be a healthy runner.”
“What else do you need for the meal?”
“Could you grab me some spinach and garlic?”
Jett walks over to the other stall as I reach for some parsley, mint, and dill. Last, I buy some free-range chicken.
After making my purchase, we head back to my place.
I put on some Tame Impala on my portable speaker and start chopping up some chicken.
“Can I help?” Jett asks.
I smile at him over my shoulder. “Yeah, can you grab the Greek yogurt from the fridge, and a couple of lemons? Then, if you could finely chop the dill and garlic.”
I shake my ass and sing along to ‘Dracula’ as I drop the diced chicken into a large bowl and sprinkle it with seasoning, lemon juice, and olive oil. Giving it a quick mix, I set it aside and boil some water for the quinoa.
Once Jett sets the knife down, I bump his hip with mine. He raises a brow, but doesn’t take the bait to dance with me.
“Ugh, you’re no fun.”
“That’s not what you thought the other night,” he retorts.
“Oh my god! Did Jett make another joke? You’re on a roll, my man. You seriously need to think about doing stand-up comedy.”
“Har har…”
“Not that anyone would show…”
Jett takes one of my dish towels, twirls it tight, and flicks the end on my thigh hard enough to sting. “Ouch!”
“You deserved it.”
Who knew Jett had a playful side? I love it. I bet when the real Jett emerges, he’ll be even more fun.
He makes the yogurt sauce while I sauté the chicken and steam the quinoa. The air quickly fills with the scent of garlic, cardamom, and cumin.
While everything cooks, I dig in my fridge. “You wanna beer?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“I should probably invest in some wine now that I’m an adult.”
I pull out two bottles of a local lager, pop the tops, and hand one to Jett. He leans against the counter and takes a sip as I stir the chicken once more.
After I cover the meat, I take a pull from my bottle and stand between Jett’s thick thighs. “Hi,” I say, looking up at him. He sure looks taller when you’re flush with his body.
“Hi,” he mimics, pressing his hand on the small of my back.
I push my leg between his thighs and press it against his cock. My hand travels to his neck, and I pull him down for a kiss, but he stiffens.
“Wes, how—”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Jett meets my lips, and his eyes slide closed, as do mine. He quickly opens up, and I thrust my tongue into his mouth, tinged with hops and barley.
When we come up for air, I take another sip from my bottle. “Before you hammer me with doubts again, just so that you know, I want to try it all with you.” When he opens his mouth to speak, I press my finger to his lips. “Nope. Shh.”
To my surprise, he kisses it. I chuckle and remove my finger.
“Sex is another ball game, Wes. I mean, if this is some experiment thing, then—”
“What do you mean? Of course, this is an experiment. When you try things for the first time, it’s always an experiment.
But I know what you’re getting at. Look, this is for fun, right?
” When he nods, I continue. “Let’s just enjoy the moment and figure shit out as it comes. But I’m into you. Don’t doubt that.”
“Yeah, okay.”
I pull away from him and remove the lid from the pan. “Let’s get these bowls ready, eat dinner, and have a little fun.” I waggle my brows, and he chuckles.
“Sounds good.”