Chapter 12 Jakob
JAKOB
Igot a text, simply saying, It’s Zane, we’ve got to talk.
First, I wanted to know how the hell he’d gotten my number. I didn’t share it with anyone outside of teammates, friends, and select relatives. I would’ve asked him straight out, too, if a shit-ton of even more important thoughts hadn’t clouded my mind.
Worse, he’d suggested we get together. No, he insisted on it.
Actually, that wasn’t even the worst part.
I awarded that title to the fact that I agreed with him one hundred percent.
We obviously had plenty to talk about and, now that I’d finished throwing up from our locker room fiasco, we could discuss the situation like civilized adults.
I would’ve suggested we meet at a coffee shop, partly because no shenanigans could happen there. Zane insisted on coming to my place even though I threw at him every excuse in the book for why I couldn’t entertain.
Unfortunately, I lost that battle.
I had a small first-floor apartment on the corner of Norwood and Breckenridge. My roommate moved out the month before, and I’d advertised for a new one, since carrying the rent alone had proven a total ball buster. For the first time, I felt relieved that no one else would be there.
When I greenlighted Zane’s request, he promised to arrive in twenty minutes. Enough time to shower, so I could smell nice for him. I could brush my teeth, so he would find no plaque or cavities if his eyes drew dangerously close to my mouth again.
God…
I couldn’t think about anything without drifting back to the kiss, a return to his moist, warm lips. I remembered his chest pressed against mine, feeling his nipples—
No! I told myself. Stop it!
The more I thought about it, the more the past would haunt me, I realized. Both my breathing and heartbeat quickened as I awaited Zane’s arrival. I couldn’t sit down either, which spoke volumes. I kept pacing the floor, expecting to wear out the front hall carpet before long.
Let’s just say it didn’t take Zane twenty minutes to reach my apartment. I doubted a full ten minutes passed before I received another text from Zane, telling me he was at the front door.
I crossed myself before answering.
Come on, that’s not that dramatic. If Zane appeared everywhere you went, and you shared a moment like ours at the gym, you’d cross yourself, too. Matter of fact, you’d probably bring garlic and holy water, too.
I yanked the door open much like how I would tear off a band-aid to minimize the agony.
And there he stood, Zane Hirst, looking taller than ever, his hair the waviest I’d ever seen it. The swelling from the knuckle sandwich I’d given him had finally cleared up, returning him to his usual ultra-handsome self.
Ultra-handsome… no denying that term had become part of my thought process. Pushing it the hell out would be my next project.
Instead of doing that, I stood there, feeling a little lost.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked.
“No.”
He arched his eyebrows, and I paused.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “that totally came out wrong. Come in, come in.”
When he stepped through the door, I felt nauseated all over again. I couldn’t believe Zane Hirst was standing in the middle of my living room. In a weird way, I felt like I’d invited Satan himself into my home.
Okay, it wasn’t that weird, but I hated it. I figured it best to open all the windows to air the place out after he left.
“Okay,” he said, “out with it.”
“Out with what?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
At first, I worried he meant my cock, which didn’t sound so crazy after our locker room incident. I couldn’t ask any more questions because I knew where that could lead.
I spotted potential for other benefits, though. I figured if I stood there and made him spell out what was on his mind, I could drive him crazy. That alone would bring me no shortage of satisfaction.
“Why did you kiss me?” he asked.
“I didn’t kiss you. Are you on drugs?”
When Zane’s chest heaved, I knew his descent into madness had begun, and I found nothing on earth more delightful.
“I’ve never taken a drug in my entire life, pal,” he said, “I’m also sane and rational, which is more than I can say for your behavior at the gym.”
“Revise history all you want, bub, but you kissed me, not the other way around.”
Now his chest didn’t just heave. His face reddened, too. Little by little, I would drive him to the brink. Bonus points if his head actually exploded.
“I’m not revising history,” he said.
“Yes, you are. You grabbed my wrist and pulled me in like this—”
I acted out the motions for him, making the kissing part as sloppy and over-the-top as possible. Zane looked away, partly because he must’ve found it ridiculous, but also because he knew damn well it was true. I expected denial from him. Zane wasn’t exactly the picture of modesty.
“So what if I did?” he asked. “You drove me to it.”
“You admit that you’re the one who kissed me and not the other way around then?”
“Yeah, but… but you didn’t have to—”
“Didn’t have to what?”
“You didn’t have to walk around in a towel like that.”
“As a matter of fact, I did have to walk around in a towel. It was a locker room shower, and I didn’t know you were going to be there. What did you want me to do?”
In truth, I knew his kissing me first afforded me only so much advantage. Yeah, he’d put his filthy, disgusting lips on mine, but I could’ve slugged him in return, right? And why not? I’d done it before.
But I couldn’t do that now. His lips weren’t really filthy and disgusting, and I knew that. They were very nice, actually. And I hated to think of messing up his handsome face again almost as much as those thoughts filled me with loathing.
“Look, we’re not getting anywhere with this,” he said. “Something happened, and I know I didn’t plan it.”
“I didn’t plan on it either, Smart Guy. And I can’t help it if I look like a Greek god.”
“Greek god, my ass. And I’ll tell you something else; you had an erection.”
“Um, you had an erection too, Zane. Miracle I could find something that small.”
Zane’s face brightened more. I wouldn’t say he’d reached tomato levels of redness, but he wasn’t a far cry from it.
Yeah, I had a boner all right, but I totally didn’t want one.
It reminded me of the seventh grade, in which I would pop an involuntary hard-on every morning at school.
Most of the time, I was seated at my desk, thank God for small favors.
One day, I was called upon to speak before the class and needed to cover my raging erection with a textbook.
My locker room hard-on reminded me very much of that, only I couldn’t deny I’d had a reason for that one.
Well, I could try…
“I just want you to know that I didn’t enjoy the kiss,” he said. “I’m not into that sort of thing.”
“Bullshit you’re not. You can’t fake that kind of passion.”
“Passion?” he sputtered and looked ready to fire off another ridiculous excuse. He could carry on all he wanted, but I knew the truth.
“And that’s why you’ve been showing up at all these places, you know, conveniently.”
“It wasn’t fucking convenient at all! I can’t get you out of my hair.”
“Oh, I’m sure there are other areas of your body you’d like me to take over.”
His face ascended to a somehow brighter hue of red. He balled his hands into fists. Maybe I should’ve prepared to duck, but something told me he wouldn’t throw a punch no matter how badly I pissed him off.
“Don’t you get it?” he asked. “I’m totally not into that sort of thing. I don’t want some stupid little kiss to change my life.”
“The kiss might’ve been stupid, but it definitely wasn’t little.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Dude, you kissed me like a mule eating an apple.”
I again demonstrated it on my hand in the most cartoonish way possible so I could snatch away his remaining sanity.
“You know, Jakob, you’re really starting to annoy me.” Zane spoke through clenched teeth.
“Is that a fact?”
“It’s a fact.”
His eyes locked on mine, and he inched up closer to me.
“What are you gonna do about it?” I asked. “I’ve already whooped your ass once.”
“It was a sucker punch. And, for the last time, quit making shit up.”
He shuffled nearer, closing in on me. I felt his warm breath on my skin. My legs weakened.
“It was no sucker punch,” I said. “I sent you to the fucking moon, and you know it.”
“As spoken by cheap shot artists everywhere.”
His voice had turned soft by then and so had mine, like we’d both been lulled into a gentler, warmer mood. I also felt helpless, the way I do when I try to stay awake, but sleep takes command.
Unlike the gym kiss, we fell into each other’s arms, not hastily, but with the tenderness of a warm blanket. Instead of practically inhaling one another, we drank each other up like fine wine.
Our mouths opened once again, allowing our tongues to mingle and play.
He pressed his powerful chest against mine and I felt his rock-hard nipples.
I reached up with one arm to clamp my hand onto the back of his head, my finger swimming through his hair.
My other hand traversed up and down his achingly strong back.
Yes, I felt his erection poke against my leg. No, it wasn’t small either. I could say whatever necessary to piss Zane off but wouldn’t deny the truth, at least not to myself.
I couldn’t.
I reached down and took the cock bulge in my hand, stroking through his jeans, and Zane returned the favor.
Then I broke away from the kiss, our arms still wrapped around one another.
“You’ve got something on your mind,” Zane said.
“Yeah, I do.”
“What is it?”
“How did you get my number?”