Chapter 9
Foster held Jude’s wrists and yanked them over his head.
Jude stared up him with those gorgeous green eyes, panting hard.
At first there had been a mixture of anger and fear in those eyes, but something had changed.
Foster wasn’t sure what it was, but it made it harder for him to breathe.
This boy he’d dreamed of touching was in his arms. Finally.
He pinned Jude to the locker with his bigger body, his cock immediately thickening.
Jude’s lips parted on a sigh, his face tilted toward Foster’s.
All logic and reasoning fled. Here was Jude Margulies in his arms.
And it felt really fucking good.
He stared at Jude’s lips, tempted to find out how it felt to kiss a boy. Leaning in a little, he searched Jude’s face. Nothing told him to stop. It was green lights all the way.
Leaning further, he pressed his lips to Jude’s.
Jude shuddered against him, a hint of a moan bubbling up. But he didn’t move. He didn’t kiss back. He just stood there.
Oh, shit… did I misread the situation?
What the fuck have I done?
Jude suddenly leaned forward and captured Foster’s mouth, his kiss firmer and more confident.
Jude pressed his tongue against his. Foster’s heartbeat ratcheted higher.
He released Jude’s hands and lowered his.
Avoiding the aching part of Jude against his thigh, he reached for that sweet ass he’d stared at for far too long, kneading it with his fingers.
When Jude stuck a hand down Foster’s pants and went for his cup, he gasped.
Jude pulled his head back, staring at him. Watching.
His hand never stopped.
Up and down his growing length.
Ashley touched him like that, but it didn’t make him feel the same way. When she did, he wanted it to stop. Now, he was eager.
Needy.
Foster stared into Jude’s eyes, the pleasure coursing through him enough to take him to his knees. His shaft hardened fully under Jude’s careful strokes.
I want to touch him like that…
He pressed his forehead to Jude’s as he gathered the courage to reach out and unzip those skinny jeans. Before he could, Jude tugged his tight practice pants down a little way.
“What in the hell is this?”
Foster’s head whipped to Rick, the air knocked from his lungs.
When Foster turned back to push Jude away, both hands slid down to his hips instead. The world spun. Darkness stole the light, and he was falling. His back hit softness and someone fell on top of him, straddling him. Foster gasped as his cock was enveloped in warm, tight heat.
He was suddenly back at the orgy, his masked stranger riding him again. He closed his eyes, the pleasure too intense.
“What in the hell is this?”
Foster turned and saw older Rick in the red light, glaring in disgust at them.
His eyes popped open, and he gasped, dragging air into his lungs. After pulling back the covers, he wiped the cold sweat from his brow. He sat, bare feet landing on the carpet beside his bed.
What the fuck had that been? Part dream, part nightmare.
Jude.
He shook his head. Why had his brain tied the two things together?
The guy he’d fucked wasn’t Jude.
It just couldn’t.
Could it?
No.
Jude was smaller. Leaner. Shorter? It had been too long, so he wasn’t sure about the height, but he was almost positive it wasn’t Jude.
There was no way he’d fucked the guy he’d already fucked over fifteen years ago. He didn’t need more guilt heaped on his conscience.
Reaching for his iPhone, Foster opened Instagram.
The first post was Ashley in a tiny bikini and some Vic clone beside her, grinning in his Speedo.
First things first, he opened her profile and unfollowed her.
Then he did a little searching. He found one Jude Margulies, but she wasn’t the right one.
He tried Facebook next and nada. The first few posts were from some place called Gabriel’s Meats.
He scrolled past those but found nothing else.
Wait, wasn’t Jude’s dad a butcher?
Gabriel’s Meats.
He scrolled back up and opened the shop’s page.
Most of the photos were cuts of meat, shiny cases, employees hard at work, and the shop itself.
He had to dig deep but finally found one with a photo of a guy and specifically mentioned the name Jude.
He’d been named the winner of the Eastfield Chamber of Commerce’s Excellence in Business Award for 2023.
For a winner, he didn’t look too happy. He stood stiffly, holding a framed award with no smile.
It was hard to determine if it was the right Jude.
The guy was wearing a shapeless lab coat, white hairnet, a Yankees ball cap, and an apron.
He also had a heavy beard contained in what he assumed was a beard-net.
He also looked heavier. Thick. He didn’t think they were the same man.
He typed in the name of the award and the year and came back with a news article with that same terrible photo… and the name Jude Margulies.
It was the right Jude.
But definitely not the guy who’d decked him.
Foster sighed with relief, his conscience a little less heavy.
But less heavy wasn’t light. He owed Jude an apology, at the very least, for his role in what happened their last year of high school. Maybe he could stop in and make his amends, whatever that was worth.
Not much, he was sure.
Who else had he wronged, though? Who else would’ve known who he was and cold-cocked him after sex? No one that Foster could think of, and it was driving him batty.
Hopefully he’d figure it out before something worse than a fist came his way.
The late summer air was as thick as pudding.
Even on the shadiest court, heat rose up from the blacktop, making Jude sweat even harder.
He bounced the ball toward Anton before pushing past the guy covering him and rushing closer to the basket.
Anton threw it back to him seconds before he laid it up and took the two points.
Not like it was enough to help them win. The other guys were destroying them.
Staying up until nearly two hadn’t been a great idea, either. Both he and Anton were running in slow motion.
“Fuck,” one of the younger guys they were playing against yelled, bending over with his hands on his knees. “Sorry but it’s too hot for this shit.” He stood up and shook his head. “I’ll take the L. I’m outie.”
“You’re giving up against these old guys?” one of his trio asked before the leftover pair jogged over to convince their friend to stay.
Old? Roan mouthed to Jude and Anton.
Jude snickered, all while hoping the two guys would lose their fight. When the traitor kept on walking, he sighed with relief.
“Thank god,” Jude muttered to himself before lifting his t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. He walked closer to the other two young guys and shook their hand. “Good game.”
“Wanna do two on three?” one of the guys asked.
“Nah,” Jude said. “Your friend was right. It’s too hot for this shit.”
“Then you guys take the loss,” the other guy said. “We’re still ready to battle.”
Jude groaned. “Let’s just call it a tie and be done, hmm?”
The leftover pair scoffed at him and muttered “old man” before they all headed for their respective benches to chug water. Jude gulped his down, his limbs feeling rubbery.
Anton dropped to the bench and groaned. “It’s almost September. Shouldn’t it be cooling down by now?”
“I told you we should’ve gone to the community center for a game,” Jude said before wiping his face again. He hadn’t shaved, so the beard growth wasn’t making him any cooler, either.
“The old guys go to the community center to play,” Anton complained.
“Apparently we are the old guys now.” Jude eyed Anton and Roan. “I’d rather play against a fifty or sixty-year-old in a cool gym than have three eighteen-year-olds dance circles around me in the gaping fires of Hell.”
“Agreed,” Roan said. He snatched his gym bag. “At least we won’t have to endure this heat next Sunday.”
“Why not?” Jude asked.
“Mia’s baby shower. Remember?” Roan asked. He glanced at them. “You’re both coming, right?”
Jude winced. He’d forgotten. A co-ed baby shower was not his scene, even if it was Roan’s first child. Plus, Mia didn’t really want him there, so why make her life hell? “Let her enjoy her day without me hovering around. You know how she gets.”
Roan sighed. “I miss you, Jude.”
“I miss you, too,” Jude murmured.
“I wish the two of you could sit down and iron shit out,” Roan said. “You never come to anything anymore. I hate it.”
Jude hated it, too. He, Roan, and Anton had been thick as thieves since forever. They’d all hung out nearly every day since their teens. Once Roan became Roan and Mia, it had left Jude out in the cold.
Mia had claimed Jude was her first true love.
He’d broken her heart when he’d admitted he was gay.
She hadn’t spoken to him for years after that.
When Roan had cautiously approached him, asking if it was okay if he and Mia went on a date, Jude immediately sensed he was about to lose one of his best friends.
That was becoming truer and truer as the years passed.
All they had left was Sunday basketball.
Now he was losing that, too. Hopefully for only one week, but with the baby coming, who knew?
“Maybe we can talk it out,” Jude said. “But her baby shower isn’t the time to do that.”
“Maybe not,” Roan muttered. He looked at Anton. “Are you coming?”
Anton hesitated.
“Come on. I don’t want to be the only guy there,” Roan snapped.
“If you want me to spend an afternoon wallowing in your,” Anton’s gaze whipped to Jude’s. “Heteronormative bullshit,” Anton looked back at Roan. “You’re going to owe me big time.”
Jude chuckled.
“What do you want?” Roan asked.
Anton looked thoughtful and tapped his chin with one finger. “How ‘bout… convince your father to let me use his Knicks seats one weekend next season,” Anton said. “And not against a shitty team, either. A good one.”