38. Brad
38
brAD
T he restaurant was nicer than was appropriate for the likes of us, a bunch of college-aged messes, but it was Shane’s pick for our last lunch in Europe. The kind of restaurant with crystal lights and white tablecloths. Not our usual scene, not when we were just as happy in a diner or with some fast food, but that was Shane.
We had a flight to catch that evening, and Theo suggested we go out to eat one last time before we’d be back home for a while. There was still plenty of summer left once we finished the trip, which for me meant a lot of working out and practice.
“So are you two…okay?” Dylan asked, looking between Alex and Shane at the round table.
Last night he’d looked so panicked when he saw them fighting, like he wanted to help or say something. He didn’t, but it took a lot not to just wrap my arms around him and tell him not to worry about the two of them. Their whole relationship was built on fighting — I didn’t see how it would change much. Sure, it was an issue I hadn’t seen them have yet, but every couple fought, right?
Shane glanced at Alex. “We are. Were you worried?” He smiled. “That’s cute, but no, we’re fine.”
Alex nodded. “I just…got in my head.”
Dylan didn’t look convinced. “Really? Seemed kind of major…”
He was trying his best to not dote or dwell too much. I could tell by the tone of his voice, like he was trying to put on a carefully crafted image of himself. What people expected.
Shane’s brow lifted. “We talked it out. Did everyone hear that?”
“Not at all, but Charlie told me about it,” Micah said around a mouthful of mashed potato.
A withering glare only made him shrug.
“Hey, man, no big deal. It happens,” Theo said.
It was quiet for a moment, like no one knew how to take that. Or knew what else to say. If Shane and Alex both said they were fine, then that was enough. Wasn’t it? I didn’t know, but they’d figure it out. Somehow they’d gone from Shane wanting to rip Alex apart to being hopelessly in love. If that could happen, then anything could work out. Maybe.
“So what’s everyone doing the rest of summer?” Jason finally asked.
Conversation moved on from there, everyone talking about different plans they had. Some were hanging with family, some of us were keeping on top of our sports, some had no plans. Even if I knew what I had to do over the summer, it made my thoughts wander.
I’d started to bring it up with Dylan last night on the balcony, wanting to figure out how we were going to navigate it before we were interrupted. I had questions about what it would be like once we got back to campus. We agreed to keep each other a secret here, agreed no one would know how we truly felt about each other — was that just for summer, or indefinite?
We didn’t specify, and I didn’t know how to ask without hurting his feelings. The beer had made me brave last night, so maybe it was a blessing in disguise. I just didn’t know where it left things. How we were supposed to deal with it. Would we tell people and then reveal we’d been together a lot longer? Were we going to tell people and pretend it was all new? Were we going to just keep things a secret?
It wasn’t so easy. Even here, it was hard. I just wanted to reach out and touch him or kiss him anywhere and everywhere we went, but it wasn’t a good idea. I didn’t know who’d be around. And it still went back to the other problems. I didn’t know how much we were okay to reveal.
Every time I thought about it, and every time I thought I wanted to just be open with it, then I’d think about my family and the more distant future. If all the plans came to a head and I was playing football professionally, if I was living this ideal life my parents wanted for me…where did Dylan fit into the picture?
He wasn’t the cookie cutter partner my parents expected. He was morose and moody and he made strange comments and jokes. It was just who he was, and they were all things I liked about him, but would everyone? He liked music and was artsy, he liked to get stoned and skate. Not what they hoped for.
Almost like he could sense me thinking about him, Dylan put his hand on my knee, squeezing lightly. I glanced at him, but his gaze was across the table. Was he playing it cool? Was he trying to reassure me?
I put my hand over his. His hand was much smaller than mine.
Why did it have to be so hard? Why did I care so much what anyone thought?
What should have mattered was that Dylan was here, right now. He was with me and he wanted to be here. He didn’t care that I was some football player, didn’t care that I was in a frat. To him, I was just Brad, his best friend. And right now, his secret boyfriend.
When we got back to the hotel, we had a couple of hours to get ourselves together for the flight back home. It was our last chance to grab any souvenirs and leave ample time to get packed up, trying not to forget something important all that way away.
With a sigh, I sat on the bed, laying back. It was crazy to even think this whole trip had happened, much less that it was over already. Everything had gone so fast, and most of it all came down to Dylan. Thoughts of Dylan, moments with Dylan.
Just as my mind was filled with him, however, the bed suddenly dipped and Dylan straddled my lap. “Brad…” his voice was soft.
I opened my eyes, looking at him. How the hell did I get so lucky to have him like this? He was so calm and so pretty, even as he just looked at me, like he expected me to get what he was thinking.
My hands traveled along his thighs to rest on his hips.
“We don’t have much longer here…want to make the most of it?” he asked, voice taking on a playful sort of lilt.
I smiled a little. “Do you have to ask? Come here.” I reached for him and pulled him down to meet me, capturing his lips with my own.
All my worries and thoughts drifted away just as quickly, lost in the oblivion of him.
Dylan felt so pliant and warm against me, kissing me back over and over in this way that sent tingles of pleasure along my spine. My hand traveled to his hair, threading through the long locks as I kissed him deeper. My tongue swiped at his bottom lip, and he easily parted his lips for me.
I licked into his mouth, and he let out the softest sound. He made such pretty noises — I couldn’t get enough of them. All at once, I shifted, flipping our positions so he was on his back and I could be on top of him. I grabbed for his shirt, lifting it up. He raised to help me, and I tossed it onto the floor in a pile we’d pick up for the trip home soon. Without waiting, I pulled my shirt off and over my head. There was no time to waste.
Dylan seemed to think the same. Deft fingers went to undo his pants, and I grabbed the waistband of both his jeans and underwear to slide them off. Standing, I unzipped and slid off the rest of my clothes to join him. Dylan looked so pretty on the bed, all spread out like he was waiting for me to just take him. His lithe body with the finely sculpted muscles was breathtaking, and I wondered if I’d told him that enough.
After I grabbed the lube and a condom from my bag, I settled back on the bed with him. He spread his legs for me, inviting me to his body. It was too much. I wanted to tell him everything I was thinking. I wanted him to understand just how perfect I thought he was. That he was everything I had ever dreamt about, and there was this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach like I wouldn’t be able to have him like this all the time.
“Stop staring,” Dylan said with his raspy voice, an edge of amusement in it.
I couldn’t help but smile. “Why? You look so good like this, babe.”
“Brad…” He averted his gaze, like he was too shy to let me just tell him how pretty he was.
Cute, but not something I could change for now. I slicked up my fingers and pressed a soft kiss against the inside of his thigh. He shivered, and I nudged his legs further apart. I wanted to see every bit of him, take in all of him.
My slicked fingers ran along the crack of his ass, teasing and playful before catching on his pink rim. A glance at his face told me he was watching me just as intensely, already on the verge of begging soon.
Before all of this happened, Dylan didn’t show that much outward interest in sex. He hooked up sometimes, but he was very casual about it and didn’t seek it out to the same degree as the rest of us. So there was something thoroughly intriguing about finding out just how much he wanted it like this. With me.
I slid a finger inside of him, nice and slow. His head tipped back, and his eyes fluttered closed. He felt so tight and hot around my finger, and I pressed another kiss to his inner thigh as I thrust the finger in and out of him, starting up a nice, slow pace that would have him begging for my cock soon.
He groaned as I brushed against that spot inside of him, and I made a note that I needed to angle it just so for him. Just to make him arch off the bed, to make him want me as much as I always wanted him.
Another finger was added to the first, making him whine and arch into the touches. He was already so needy from this, already so gone, just from kissing me and having a single finger inside him. There was something so beautiful about the way it was this easy to get him worked up.
As I added a second and third finger, stretching him open, I just savored this moment. Something about being away from everything else we knew, being here in this beautiful new place, on this nice hotel bed. It made something stir in my chest, something about it felt so final.