Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
HENDRIX AVERY
Nearly a month later, it’s like Tahegin’s injury never happened.
I watch as he rides another wave, standing confidently on board as if he’s a native Los Angelean and not some sweet-tea-loving bumpkin from a Texas city without a single beach near it. It’s mid-March now, and the weather is uncharacteristically good for surfing. Tahegin called me this morning and said the reports were coming in that the waves, temperature, and wind would be coming together for an epic surf day, which appears to be the truth. It also seems most of the other locals also heard the news. The beach is packed, but that hasn’t stopped Tahegin from racing wave after wave, Aleks only a few feet behind him.
Me? I am begrudgingly lounged under a large shade umbrella, sunglasses darkening the too-bright sun and sand creeping in every crevice of my body. The beach, the people—not my thing, but relationships are all about compromise, so here I am.
The Super Bowl came and went with the Seattle Emeralds and the Baltimore Diamonds as the contenders, with the latter taking home the trophy. In terms of Super Bowl games, this year’s was pretty boring. Each team scored once in the first half, then twice in the second. The Emeralds had a batted-down point-after attempt, so when the Diamonds made a three-point field goal in the last thirty seconds, it was all over. It’s surreal, my first season in the NFL officially behind me. In fact, I should be hearing from Vikki anytime now about a contract renewal . . .
“Oh, Hendrix,” Micah sighs dramatically. He’s sitting beside me on an extra-large beach blanket, and when I look over, I catch him shaking out his cotton candy pink hair and slipping on a pair of nearly comically large sunglasses. “Thank you for being a reasonable man and not running out like an idiot into shark-infested waters !” He yells the last bit at the people currently surfing—more specifically, at Aleks.
Shooting him a scowl because I’m pretty sure he isn’t supposed to be yelling about sharks while on a beach, I shake my head at him.
He brandishes his hands in the air, gesturing at nothing in particular. “What? I’m just saying . . .”
Admittedly, the last few months—really all the football season pretty much—I haven’t been spending as much time with Micah as I should have been. As friends, we’re supposed to see each other more than once or twice a month, though we do message a good bit during each week. Still, just looking at him, I can tell I have missed a lot.
For one, Micah is wearing fake nails. I’m used to him having painted fingernails from back when we were roommates, but they were always his natural, short ones. Now, he has bright iridescent fakes with a bit of length—not as much as our waitress at lunch today, but more than normal for him. Two, he’s wearing makeup. There is a minuscule amount of foundation evening out his pores, contour on his cheeks, glossy lipstick on his lips, and mascara lengthening and darkening his eyelashes. He’d explained all the makeup stuff to me countless times when we lived together, but he never wore it out. Now, though, he is. And I don’t hate it. It just threw me for a loop when I saw him.
“You’re staring,” Micah hums, keeping his face tilted to the sun and not looking at me, so I don’t know how he knows I’m watching him.
“You’re beautiful,” I blurt, and yeah, I probably should have led with something different. No going back now.
Micah turns to me, lowering his sunglasses down his nose to give me a look, one eyebrow raised.
I nervously scratch the nape of my neck. “Uh, what I meant to say was, it’s great that you’re being more yourself out in public. The look suits you.”
“Thank you,” he says but doesn’t return to his sunning pose.
“Are you and Aleks official yet?” I ask.
All the confidence in his face falls, despite his attempt to keep up the farce. “We’re casual.”
Copying his earlier move, I wordlessly stare at him until he begins to shift uncomfortably in his tiny swim shorts. Seriously, they’re, like, baggy Speedos, if that’s a thing. And bright pink. They’re nothing like Tahegin’s aqua-colored trunks that hug his ass and thick thighs all the way to a few inches above his knee. They’re conservative, but goddamn do they look good.
Me? I’m in the baggiest pair of black shorts I could find. In addition to my usual problem fitting into bottoms, I have also begun sporting a semi anytime Tahegin is around, and especially when he’s shredding waves with his muscular calves, bulging biceps, and well-defined abs exposed. I lick my lips, wondering how good his caramel skin tastes with the sea salt coating it and—yeah, no, fish piss and shit in that water. No, thank you.
Sighing, Micah lets his head fall back on the beach chair. His sunglasses go askew, but he makes no effort to correct them. “It’s . . . Fuck, Rix. I can’t tell you. I’m so sorry. I . . . I can’t imagine what you would say, but I can imagine the disappointed look in your eyes, and . . . I can’t do it.”
Disappointed? What would I be disappointed in that might interfere with his relationship with Aleks? “Micah, you are my best friend,” I tell him with total sincerity, voice soft. “Nothing you could tell me would be able to change that.”
Big doe eyes meet mine behind his crooked glasses. They’re watery, and his bottom lip quivers as countless emotions run across his face. Shame, worry, sadness . . . and defeat. He shakes his head, cotton candy pink hair whipping through the air. “You’ll think less of me,” he insists. “You’ll think I’m . . . I don’t know. It isn’t illegal, per se. Just frowned upon, and you already frown so much.”
I scrape my brain, trying to figure out what he is trying to tell me. Where did the illegal bit come from? Like selling drugs? Or . . .
Pieces begin to click into place. His apartment is way nicer than mine despite him not actually having a real job when he first moved into it. He’s dressing differently—makeup and nails and glitter. That night when that Frankie guy showed up at his apartment and called him “Mickey,” they’d both been wearing heels and revealing clothing.
So, not selling drugs, but something else.
The possibilities running through my head are not good at all.
“Micah,” I say slowly. Cautiously. “You better fess up right now because I promise you, the thoughts in my head right now are way, way worse.”
He curls up in his beach chair, covering his face with his hands and groaning. It’s a wail of resignation as he decides to tell me what is going on with him, so I clutch the arms of my own chair in preparation for his confession.
Whatever he’s about to tell me, I can only hope my promise to him remains true.
? ? ?
I’m still gaping at Micah in shock when my phone begins ringing. In a daze, I catch Vikki’s name on the screen and answer, trying to shake away the haze in my brain. “Hey. I was wondering when I would be hearing from you.”
She must catch the sound of the beach—seagulls, waves, people cheering for the volleyball players and surfers—because she asks, “Is this a bad time?”
“I guess it depends on if you have bad news for me.”
“I don’t,” she singsongs, sounding unnecessarily happy.
It’s contagious, and I find myself smiling in response. Tahegin has definitely had an impression on me. A good one. “In that case. This is the perfect time.” My gaze lands on Tahegin as he hops to his feet on a surfboard before expertly riding a wave as if he were born on the beach. He’s grinning and laughing even as he wipes out, and when he pops up from the waves, water glints in the sunlight as it rolls down his face, chest, and abs. If Vikki has good news, it must mean I’m on the team again next season, which means I get to be with Tahegin—sharing hotel rooms at away games and spending nights at his house. I become nearly as giddy as Vikki.
“The Rubies are extremely impressed with your performance, and they want to ensure you choose them for next season. They offered a 13.3 percent increase to your salary and a two-year contract. This deal won’t last forever, so ? —”
“Yes!” I blurt entirely too quickly. “I mean, yeah. That sounds good.”
“Great!” She lets out a “whew” of relief. “I swear, you have been my least problematic client this off-season, but never mind. That is off topic. Anyway, you have already signed a contract with me, so I can finalize this deal without you, but if you would rather come to the office to be the one to sign this dotted line, I can meet you there. You sound busy, though.”
Still staring at my boyfriend, who is now coming ashore, I barely register Vikki’s words. Excitement flutters in my gut at the thought of spending two more seasons with Tahegin, and all I want is to celebrate with him. “Yeah,” I say distractedly. “You can do it. That’s fine.”
Vikki gives me some kind of confirmation, but I’m not sure if I acknowledge her before Tahegin is standing, dripping, at the foot of my chair. My phone slips forgotten through my fingers as he grins at me.
“What?” I ask, sounding slightly winded.
He climbs up the chair until he’s lying beside me, propping his head on his hand. One of his fingers reaches out to trace an exposed dimple on my cheek. “I saw that smile from the water and just had to come bask in it.”
I roll my eyes. “That was cheesy.”
“Made you smile more, though.” His hand glides down my arm, leaving a damp trail, before entwining our fingers. “What’s got you so happy?”
Looking to the side, I see Micah and Aleks in a similar position to us, so I include them in my announcement. “Well, I just heard from my agent . . . and I have a two-year contract with the Rubies.”
The guys cheer, and Tahegin leans over to peck my lips, mumbling against them. “Congrats, babe.”
“So, you’re all going to be together again next season?” Micah double-checks.
Aleks shrugs. “I’m still on contract. Sour just got his. Gin, you should be hearing something soon, right?”
Tahegin’s brows furrow, and he frowns. “Huh. I forgot the end of this season marked the end of my contract.”
“Technically, you’re a free agent right now,” Aleks points out.
Sitting up, Micah lowers his sunglasses on his nose to give Tahegin a look. “Free agent? As in, you aren’t on the Rubies?”
“Just while they negotiate his contract,” Aleks explains quickly. “I’m sure he’ll be signed again any day now. Coach won’t let him go that easily.”
Nerves ignite in my belly. In the back of my mind, I’d known Tahegin’s contract would be up at the end of the season, but I’d somehow forgotten with everything else going on.
Lips meet my cheek, pulling me from my distracted thoughts. “It’ll be okay,” Tahegin assures me. “I’ll hear from them soon.”
The guys sun themselves dry, and Tahegin invites Micah and Aleks for an early dinner. The pair exchange a glance before donning matching mischievous smirks.
“I think we’re going to go back to Aleks’— house!” Micah jumps as Aleks grabs his ass, and . . . Yeah. They’re gone in a blink, sprinting for Aleks’ car in the parking lot.
Laughing at our friends’ retreating backs, Tahegin turns and waggles his eyebrows at me. “Wanna come back to mine?”
“Hmm.” I tilt my head side to side, pretending to consider the offer.
Tipping his mouth to my ear, he purrs, “I’ll suck you off if you come home with me.”
“ Say less .”
The drive is a blur. Tahegin sits in the passenger seat of my car, his hands wandering all over me while I try to keep the tires in a single lane. I groan as his fingers graze up the inner seam of my shorts, but he pulls away just before they can reach where I am aching for him to touch. He’s given me a few blowjobs so far, and each time, I desperately wish to reciprocate. When it comes to me doing anything to him, though, he always redirects or tells me he wants to go slow to keep me from getting overwhelmed.
News flash, Tahegin, I want to do all the things with you. Get over it.
There is a painful throb in my shorts and a freshly bruised hickey on my neck by the time I park in Tahegin’s garage. We kiss our way inside, only stopping when he insists on showering the ocean from his skin before we do anything else. I try to tell him that he could smell like garbage for all I care, but he’s determined. He asks me to join him, and I accept, though I do tell him to go ahead without me for a minute while I take care of something.
That something happens to be a phone call because, in all our conversation on the beach, I forgot to ask my best friend what I really need to know—preferably before I make a fool of myself.
Tahegin disappears into the bathroom, and the shower comes on.
Stepping into the hallway outside his bedroom, I hit the button beside Micah’s name in my phone, shuffling nervously in place.
“This better be good,” he answers just as I think the voicemail might kick on. “I’m busy—” It’s clear what he is up to when he breaks off in a squeal that morphs into giggles.
“I just have a quick question, then you can go back to Aleks.”
“Mhm,” he hums in acknowledgment, but also possibly to stifle a moan.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. Asking for help—letting people see me vulnerable—is such a new novelty that I have to prepare myself. Have to convince myself it isn’t a weakness. That Micah won’t laugh in my face and call me an idiot. “How is sex different with a man? I mean— What do I need to know before . . .”
There’s some shuffling on Micah’s end of the line, and away from the phone, he murmurs in a serious tone. “Zeke, hold on a sec.” Hearing someone call Aleks by anything other than his last name or team nickname is strange, but it makes sense that someone as close to him as Micah would use a version of his first. When Micah speaks again, he’s back at the phone and sounds more attentive than he did earlier. “So, you and Gin haven’t ? —”
My face flushes with warmth, and I’m suddenly glad I didn’t ask about this in person. “No, not yet. But I want to.”
“You sure?”
“I am so sure. The surest.”
Micah chuckles lightly at my words. “I like your enthusiasm. Okay. You’re already familiar with prep, so I won’t give you that lecture. Otherwise, there are two main differences between anal with a man versus a woman. First is the reach around.”
One of my eyebrows twitches upward despite no one being here to see it. “Reach around?”
“Yep. Not all guys can come hands-free, and while the bottom can usually jerk himself, it always feels better with someone else’s hand. If he’s on his knees, reach around and give him a handie to help him along. If he’s on his back or straddling you, it will be even easier because it’s practically in your face. Don’t be selfish.”
I nod to myself, mentally making a note. “Don’t be selfish. Got it.”
“Second is a bit more complicated. Women are supposed to have something called a G-spot, right?”
“Don’t get me lying to you,” I reply quickly. I’ve never studied a vagina like that or asked about it. I used to be a fuck-and-bye kind of guy. No pillow talk.
“Wow,” my best friend whispers under his breath, sounding completely disappointed in me. “Anyway. Guys have a feel-good spot that I assume is similar. I don’t know for sure because—you know—I’m gay. Basically, inside a guy is an area that can provide pleasure and aid in climax. Some guys aren’t very sensitive whereas others can come from stimulation there alone. It just depends on the guy. As the top, you need to make yourself familiar with that spot. Your goal should be to stimulate it with every thrust—dick or fingers.”
“How do I?—”
“Sh! I’m telling you right now. It’s called the prostate ? —”
“Oh, the thing that the doctor?—”
“Hendrix Rosetta Avery!”
I roll my eyes to myself and grumble, “Not my middle name.”
“Do you want Tahegin to enjoy this or not? That’s what I thought. Listen to the words coming out of my mouth. The prostate is located a few inches inside and just behind the penis. You can also massage it externally on the bit of skin behind the balls. That feels good as a tease, foreplay, or during head—explore it on yourself sometime. I think that’s every ? —”
Aleks’ voice suddenly appears, as if he’s invaded the space between the phone and Micah’s face. “Never use warming lube,” he cautions sagely. “Just— Don’t do it.”
Micah scoffs. “He knows that. You do know that, right, Rix?”
“I . . . do now.”
“Dear Lord of the Gays, help this man.”
“If that is all,” Aleks jumps in again, “I need to take my man to bed. And Sour? Don’t forget the reach around.”
Once again, I nod with all seriousness. “Don’t be selfish.”
Giggling hits my ear as Micah and Aleks flirt, totally forgetting about me, so I hang up before stripping out of my shorts and heading for my naked, oblivious boyfriend in the shower.