Wes
The sound of a utensil dropping on the kitchen floor and the smell of coffee stir me awake. I yawn and stretch, then pull Jett against me. My dick instantly hardens. I press my nose to his hair and inhale the scent of lingering cologne mixed with sleep—my favorite smell.
I like how good he feels against me. Each day, I fall a little harder. I loved the way he opened up to my family and how easily everyone talked and connected. It just solidified my feelings for him.
Will this work out long-term for us? Who knows? I want it to, though. I can definitely see a future with Jett.
“I feel like I’m floating over your kitchen,” he mumbles against my throat.
I snort a laugh. “You get used to it. When I was a kid, I had to share the bedroom with my mom. When Granddad built this, I loved having my own space. Building an entire bedroom wouldn’t work here, so he built me the next best thing.”
Jett sits up on his elbows and looks at me with a sleepy smile. “I like it. Slept like a baby.”
“That’s only because you have me next to you.”
He rolls his eyes and falls onto his back. “Dork.”
I wipe at the crust in the corner of his eye and grin. “So you keep telling me.”
“You boys awake?” Grandma yells.
“Who can sleep with all that racket?” I yell back.
“Oh, Wes. Behave.”
I roll over onto my side, and Jett faces me. “Wanna do a couple of handies before our run?” I whisper, waggling my brows.
“Do you always have sex on the brain?”
I pretend to think about it for a moment. “Pretty much. What? I’m as horny as I was when I was a teen.”
“As much as I’d love to, I’m not fooling around in your bedroom. The entire house will know.”
“Hmm, you’ve gotta point. So, no stuffing my mouth as you stuff my ass?”
He snorts a laugh and shakes his head. “Jesus, Wes. That mouth is gonna get you in trouble one day.”
“It hasn’t yet.”
He yawns and stretches as I did. “We’ll fool around when we get back.”
I feign a pout. “But I’m all hard and horny.”
“Just pee. You’ll be okay, you big baby.”
“You’re so mean. Fine!”
I crawl out of bed and dig around for a T-shirt. Jett opens his bag and pulls one out, too.
“Let’s go for a run,” I say. “We’re going to need to knock out those calories before we cram our faces later today.” I sit on the edge of the bed and pull on some socks and my sweats. “Tomorrow, we’ll hang out with Dennis and Mike, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, I’d love to.”
Jett and I climb down the ladder and drop right into the kitchen. “Mornin’,” I say to Grandma and kiss her cheek.
“Morning. Are you boys hungry? I’m making pancakes.”
“G-ma, why are you making breakfast? We’re gonna have a massive meal this afternoon.”
“Just something small. You’re going to be hungry.”
“Save it for later. Jett and I are going for a run.”
After I fill two collapsible water bottles, I hand one to Jett with a hydration belt to keep our hands free.
The morning is brisk, but neither of us wears a hoodie. We’ll warm up soon enough. We jog a few blocks to the beach, where we’ll do our run.
Cannon Beach is empty of people, except for a few jogging or walking. The sky is gray, and the tide is out. I take a deep breath of the fresh, salty air before we start running on the packed sand.
We head in the direction of Ecola State Park. Neither of us says a word. I focus on my breathing, using the pounding of my feet on the sand to find a rhythm as my head starts to clear and my body warms.
It’s nice to have a partner to run with again. I haven’t had one since Dennis.
“Hold up,” Jett says after running over a mile.
We slow to a walk, shaking our hands, and taking deep, slow breaths. I chug back some water once I’m not gasping for air.
“I’m not a long-distance runner,” he chuckles. “Damn, you can go on and on, can’t you?”
“I love it. I just get into this zone, you know? Despite how much I chat, I get quiet and hyper-focused.”
Jett steps up to me and rests his hands on my hips, his voice deep and velvety against my ear. “I like how much you talk.”
I tilt my head and grin. “Oh, yeah? I guess I’ll have to yammer more, then. I mean, the end goal is making you happy, right?”
Instead of calling me a dork, he drops his smile and looks behind me at the ocean. “I am happy. With you.”
His eyes land back on mine, and I’m fucking melting. “God, I’m so happy with you, too. I really like where this is going.”
“Same.”
Jett leans in and kisses me. We’re both sweaty and taste like salt, but I don’t care.
“You wanna know a secret?” I ask.
“Is it a naughty secret?”
I scoff. “Not everything in my brain is about sex.”
“Tsk. Too bad.”
“I used to call you ‘whiplash’ in my head. Hell, I even made it your contact name on my phone. When we first met, you were all over the place, my guy. One minute you were pissed off, and the next you were all hot and bothered. Very hot and bothered. I was fucking confused there for a while, but I really like where we’re at now. ”
“Just don’t ever call me that in bed.”
I throw back my head and laugh. “Damn. You’re no fun.”
“I have a secret, too.”
“Oh, yeah?”
He winces a little. “So, you know how I used to call you Wilson?”
“Ugh, yeah. Don’t remind me. What an asshole you were,” I wink and kiss his cheek.
“Sorry about that. Well, Wilson Kipketer is a hero of mine. He’s a—”
“I’m very familiar with who Wilson Kipketer is. He’s an amazing runner. Are you saying you have a hero crush on me, too?”
His smile stretches across his face, but his eyes roll. “At first, it was a dig. I… I wasn’t used to people recognizing me, and I kind of wanted to be forgotten, if I’m being honest. Let’s just say you caught me off guard, and I wanted you to… feel that, too.”
I rest my hand on his neck, growing serious, since he’s opening up more.
“But you also reminded me that I still have fans out there,” he continues.
“I wasn’t sure how to process that. Soon, Wilson, the dig became Wilson, someone I admired…
the way I saw you run that first time. Your form, pacing…
it’s steady, controlled, and fast. You’re a serious fucking runner, Wes.
You’re also a seriously amazing person. I… ”
Before he says anything else, he pulls me into a kiss, shoving his tongue into my mouth. I arch my body into him as he controls us. My heated body burns even more for him, but mostly, I’m grateful he opened up more.
When we pull away, I almost make a quip, but that would just ruin the moment. “Come on. Let’s get back, Lover.”
Thanksgiving around here is a family affair.
It’s not only about coming together as a family, but in my house, the menfolk don’t go off to watch football while the womenfolk do all the work of making a fabulous meal.
The entire family is invested in its creation.
I learned at a young age that I appreciated the meal more when I’ve worked hard on it.
It’s a small kitchen, but we all make it work. Jett and I are out of the way, next to the sink, chopping all the vegetables for the salad and the stuffing.
The turkey is already in the oven and has been since early this morning.
Granddad is filling the graham cracker crust with pumpkin pie filling. Mom is simmering the cranberry sauce with oranges and apples, while Grandma makes the sweet potatoes with marshmallows and the green bean casserole.
“Do you have Thanksgiving traditions at home, Jett?” Granddad asks.
“Uhm, yeah. It’s a lot like this, but only the women do the cooking.
When my grandparents first moved here, they really got into American traditions.
Christmas is huge. The Ivory Coast is mostly comprised of Christians and Muslims. My grandparents lived in the south, where it’s predominantly Christian. ”
“Learn something new every day. I need to ask you more questions. I know shit about the Ivory Coast,” I say.
Jett shrugs. “I’ve never been. But Thanksgiving was spent mostly with my dad’s parents.”
“Th-th-th… that’s so n-nice,” Mom says.
“Yep, bonding is always important,” Grandma agrees.
Jett nods, frowning. “Instead of watching football, Dad and I would sit in front of the TV and watch all my running videos, pointing out where I could improve and… my mistakes.”
His openness with my family surprises me, and I think Mom senses the shift in Jett, too—she’s amazing like that—and touches his shoulder. He turns to face her, towering over her. “B-bonding is important, b-b-but… not p-p-picking on… mm-mistakes. It hurts.”
Jett stares at his feet and nods. “Yeah, I didn’t like it so much. I’d rather be dicing vegetables with you all. It’s… been really nice here.”
Mom instantly pulls Jett into a hug. She’s the one who taught me kindness and patience the most.
“Y-you’re always w-w-welcome here.”
“Thanks,” he whispers, holding her back.
Mom walks off to keep stirring the sauce as we go back to chopping vegetables.
There’s definitely a mood shift. You can tell Jett didn’t care for Thanksgiving. Who would when his dad was pointing out his failures all day? Fucking stressful is what it is. Being an athlete is stressful enough.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m good. Love your family.”
I smile as my heart beats a little faster for this man I’m falling for. “Thanks.”
“Jett,” Granddad says after taking a bite of mashed potatoes and gravy. “Have you seen Wes’ scrapbook?”
My fork hovers over my mouth as I forget how to breathe. I told them not to talk about what happened to him at the Olympics, but failed to tell them not to mention the scrapbook.
“Granddad!” I screech.
“What?”
I face-palm as my cheeks burn.
Jett leans in and asks, “Scrapbook?”
“Ugh…”
“Why are you so red, baby?” he chuckles.
“‘Baby,’ I like. The teasing not so much.”
“Come on. You can’t leave me hanging, Wes.”
I point at my granddad. “You and I are going to have words, old man.”
He chuckles and bites into his turkey with a smug look on his face. Who knew my granddad was such a brat?
“Ugh…” I groan again and take a sip of wine. “Fine, but if you laugh… No, you’re totally gonna laugh. Suck it up, Wes. So, remember how I used to watch all your races back in high school?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I… started a scrapbook of your achievements. I took pictures of you running, printed out your stats, and clipped newspaper articles. God, this is so embarrassing…”
Mom, on my other side, pats my back. “B-but it mmmade you… ha-happy.”
I wince as I look at Jett. “Told you I worshiped you.”
Now it’s Jett who looks embarrassed, smiling shyly and picking at his food. “Nah, I’m… not that good.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Not that good? Are you freakin’ kidding me? You were right up there with some of the best in the world, babe. You’re crazy if you think you’re less than that.”
“I agree with Wes,” Granddad says, and the rest nod. “We’ve seen you race. Your speed was damn impressive.”
Jett scratches the back of his neck. “I, ah, don’t know what to say… thanks.”
Jett’s so damn modest when he deserves the fucking pedestal.
He glances at me, winking. “Do you really have a scrapbook?”
With a dramatic sigh, I say, “Yes… I’ll show you when we get back, if you want.”
“Oh, I want.”
I point at my granddad again. “I’ll get you back, old man.” Jett rests his hand on my knee under the table, so I focus back on him. “I’ll show you later… God.”
“I look forward to it.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Just no teasing me.”
“What, only you can tease me?”
“Don’t… use me against me. What is that phrase parents love to use? ‘Do as I say, not as I do’?”
“Psh,” Mom huffs. “I n-n-never s-ssaid… that.”
“Not helping, Mom.”
She giggles as she takes a large bite of stuffing.
The rest of dinner is spent teasing me and talking about all the trouble I caused as a kid. Apparently, it isn’t Thanksgiving, but ‘pick on poor Wes day.’
“I see where you get your personality,” Jett says when we’ve wrapped up dessert, cleaning up the mess.
“Yeah, we all kind of tease each other around here.”
While everyone finishes clearing the table, Jett and I do the dishes. There’s no dishwasher, so it all has to be done by hand. Just like cooking, everyone’s involved in the cleanup.
“Thank you all for dinner. The meal was delicious,” Jett says, looking back over his shoulder as he dries a pot.
“Our pleasure, my dear. You’re welcome over here anytime,” Grandma says.
I bump his shoulder with mine as I hand him a clean dinner plate to dry. “Be prepared for even more food. Dennis and Mike are grilling tomorrow.”
“God, we’re going to have to run off all this food.”
“Run? Oh, babe, I have other plans for that. Just wait until we get home.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Sounds like a plan.” His smile fades as he stares out the window. “This has been really nice. Chill. Thanks for inviting me.”
“I’m just glad you came.”
I rest my head on his shoulder for a second as I rinse the soap off a glass, my heart about to burst. This was one of the best Thanksgivings I’ve had.