Chapter Fifteen July #4
“I’m not going to complain.”
The chairs did complain as they leaned in close, creaking as Nick greedily accepted the kiss.
It was short, chaste, only a brief-but-firm press of lips to his.
It was a new type of kiss for them, intimately familiar, different from the passionate kisses leading to sex, or the lazy, languid kisses shared while making out during commercials, or the quick pecks shared in stolen moments in the semi-public space of Nick’s foyer with the door half open before they headed out for work.
Nick cataloged this one with the others and hoped to learn a hundred others.
He wanted every type of kiss Brady Derek Jensen had to offer, especially the ones Brady hadn’t shared yet.
He was content with second-hand kisses built from previous relationships, but he wanted new ones, shared by them alone.
It was greedy, and he didn’t care.
“Truth or dare?” Nick asked when they came apart and his brain was functional enough for words. He was fully aware of his lopsided grin and didn’t care one bit.
“It’d be rude to break our streak. Truth.”
Nick sobered, his giddiness giving way to the seriousness the impending topic warranted.
He wanted to ask about that night in PA during their first tournament.
They’d been so close, dancing around something Brady had just admitted he’d wanted too.
What had gone wrong? What had made him believe Nick was suddenly unworthy of his trust?
He wanted to ask that, but he didn’t. It was too accusatory, too angry, too much like something Nick-from-five-months-ago would have said. They’d gotten here, so what did it matter? Maybe when it was safely behind them, when they’d filled more months with happiness together.
So he settled for another question that had been bugging him for a while, one he felt ran tangential if not parallel to their real issues. “Why did you get upset about being called BJ?”
He’d thought about it, whittled away what he wanted and needed to know until he’d settled on this particular question. It went in a similar vein as his other, more pointed ones, but it absolved both of them of blame.
As soon as the question left Nick’s lips, Brady deflated.
He was silent as he stared out to the water long enough that Nick thought he’d fucked up.
He was considering how best to take it back when Brady finally answered.
“Some stuff happened in high school. I had a reputation for being good at hockey, and that set the field for how people treated me. Then I, uh… I—” He licked his lips and cleared his throat.
“Things changed my senior year, and that reputation changed in ways I didn’t like.
It got bad. I was miserable through college, and that name, as stupid as it is, brings me back.
So I don’t like being called that, and anyone who knew me back then should fucking know that.
Whoever told those jackasses that name…”
He shook his head and clenched his fist around the beer bottle.
This was only a brief glimpse into the crux of the matter, a window to the truth; it didn’t show Nick the whole picture.
It didn’t sound like a lie, but something—a lot of things, Nick suspected—were omitted.
Nick was smart enough to piece together different scenarios, to guess at different ways Brady’s peers had betrayed him.
A bi or gay teenage boy with the initials BJ wouldn’t stand a chance if he didn’t have the right friends or mindset to get him through.
Brady was good at holding his own, but if he hadn’t had to deal with homophobic bullshit until his senior year, he wouldn’t have known how to handle it.
Nick would’ve preferred that Brady had trusted him enough to share more, but Nick also had wounds from childhood that hadn’t healed. Over a decade later, they were still raw. Brady had taken a step toward trusting him, and that was what he needed.
Nick wondered how badly Aimes had fucked with Brady’s equilibrium back at that tournament, no matter how inadvertently. She’d been a living embodiment of Brady’s shit teenage years and whatever mess had made him leave Pittsburgh in the first place.
“That when you hurt your ankle?” Nick whispered gently.
“Yes,” Brady said and nothing else. Crickets and the distant sounds of kids laughing filled the gap.
“I’m sorry all that happened, but I’m glad you’re here,” Nick said affectionately.
Brady smiled weakly, still not meeting Nick’s eye, and not-so-subtly rubbed his own eyes with the back of his hand. “Truth or dare?” His voice was thick, rough, deeper than usual. Really sexy.
“We don’t have to keep playing—”
“Truth or dare, Nick.”
Nick. Not Nicki.
“Dare.”
“What did you— wait, what?”
“Dare. I’m choosing dare, so take advantage of your one opportunity and dare me to do something.”
Brady narrowed his eyes. It was a huge point to note that Brady was actually looking at him again. “And if I dare you to jump in the river?”
“Then I’ll jump, and I’ll splash you as much as I can in the process.”
Brady considered it with a solemn expression. “Dare you to kiss me?”
Nick raised his eyebrows. Their kiss earlier had taken him by surprise because their friends were so close. Sure, they were out of the way and the growing darkness concealed them a little, but they weren’t invisible.
“That a question or your dare?”
“Dare, for sure—”
This time the kiss wasn’t gentle or chaste. It was passionate, a welcome distraction. Everything felt raw, and this was the best way to move forward.
Together.
They were late back to the house for fireworks, but their friends graciously didn’t mention it.
*
“This place has beer?” Brady was eyeing the bar at the far end of the lobby while they stood in line for popcorn. “Why has no one told me movie theaters have beer now?”
Brady had looked exhausted the past few days, more quiet than usual, his clothes adorably rumpled.
Something about allergies, he’d said. Brady hadn’t wanted to go out, but Nick had talked him into going out for a movie for a change of pace.
He’d perked up when they arrived, and he realized the theater was underground; when he’d taken in the lobby, the last of his sullen mood had slipped away.
“Most don’t?” Nick narrowed his eyes. “Do you not go to movies?”
Brady shrugged. “Not really? I just stream stuff when it comes out if I want to see it. I’m not much of a movie person.”
“I believe you,” Nick said. “I’ve seen your queue. It’s all documentaries and old TV shows.”
“What’s wrong with old TV shows?”
“Nothing. If you’re old.”
Brady rolled his eyes. “Get some candy, would ya? I’m gonna check out the beer.”
They barely got to their seats in time for previews, the theater lights going dark as they found their row but before they’d found their seats. They were in the back row right beneath the projector, and it hummed loud enough that Nick could hear it over the audio.
Once they were out of the bright lobby, he noticed a change in proximity.
They hadn’t exactly been distant, but now that they’d settled in their seats, Brady’s leg was slung over his, and they were elbow-to-elbow on the armrest. It was like, as soon as he was sure no one could see them, Brady sought even the smallest bit of contact.
Nick ignored it. Plenty of people weren’t into PDA. It didn’t mean anything.
“You like weird movies,” Brady whispered after the first preview. “Like I guess I knew that from hanging out at your place, but still.”
“I’ve seen everything currently playing in regular theaters,” he said. He kept his voice low even though the nearest group to them was three rows down and several seats to the right. “Sometimes you gotta go to places like this to find something new.”
“You’re a hipster,” Brady shot back. “You don’t like mainstream movies so you brought me to a fancy theater with obscure foreign shit. And beer. So good choice.”
“Shhh. The movie’s starting.”
Nick could hardly concentrate. Yeah, he watched the movie, but more often than not, his eyes drifted to Brady.
He liked seeing his expression light up at the dramatic moments, hearing his surprised laughter at the jokes, watching his unimpressed look at the “big reveal” at the end.
Every single reaction was beautiful, way better than the movie Nick was barely following.
At one point Brady caught him staring. He did a double take, gave him a questioning look, then leaned over to kiss him. “Watch the movie,” he whispered and squeezed his hand gently before turning back to the screen.
After the credits, Nick couldn’t say with any certainty what had happened, but he knew Brady had liked the movie. That was enough for it to be one of his favorites, honestly.
“You grew up around here, right?” Brady asked casually as they tossed their empty popcorn bags and beer cans into the trash and left the cool theater for a humid parking lot.
“Not really. Like forty-fifty minutes north of here. Why?”
“That’s too bad,” Brady teased. They were shoulder-to-shoulder, so close it’d be easy to put his arm around Brady’s waist or his shoulder.
Instead he buried his hands in his pockets to avoid the temptation.
He was perfectly capable of being a gentleman and respecting Brady’s boundaries.
And then he jerked when Brady slipped a hand over his shoulder and pulled him closer, pressed his mouth right to Nick’s ear, and whispered, “Thought you’d know all the best make-out spots. ”
Nick shuddered and gulped. “I might know a few. If you don’t mind a drive.”
“I don’t mind at all. If we go quick, we can catch the sunset.” A kiss to his temple and Brady pulled away, jogging to the car.
He stood there a moment, staring after him with his cheeks flushed and his heart pounding. Then he smiled and ran after him. “Wait up!”
*