Chapter 9 #2
“He loves those seats more than he loves me,” Roan said. “I rarely get to go with him myself. How the fuck am I going to convince him to let you go?”
“I have faith in you,” Anton said.
Roan scowled.
“Unless you want to be the only sacrificial man at the baby shower,” Jude said, grinning. “Surrounded by her jealous, baby-crazy friends.”
“Right-right,” Anton said, grinning at Jude and holding up a palm for a high five.
Jude slapped it and turned his focus on Roan.
“Fine. I’ll ask,” Roan said. “But I can’t make any promises.”
“Don’t just ask. Implore,” Anton said. “Down on your knees, begging, if need be.”
“Do I at least get to go with you if I manage this?” Roan asked.
“Maybe,” Anton answered. “If Jude can’t go.”
Jude barked with laughter.
Roan rolled his eyes, tossing his bag onto his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. See you Sunday.” He lightly punched Jude in the shoulder. “See you soon, man.”
“Yeah… and congrats. I hope it’s a good party.”
Roan smiled, light shining in his eyes. “Thanks.”
Once Roan headed off the court, another few guys jumped on to start their own pick-up game. Jude and Anton grabbed their shit and exited.
“You’re never getting those tickets. You know that, right?”
Anton chuckled. “Probably not but knowing he begged his asshole father for them sounds like equivalent torture to me sitting in a room for an hour listening to Mia and her friends talk about childbirth.”
Jude barked with laughter. “Better watch out. I hear pregnancy can be contagious. One of Mia’s friends might decide you’re her baby daddy.”
“Not gonna happen,” Anton said.
“You don’t want kids? Like at all?”
“In this economy?” Anton joked. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I wouldn’t be too upset if it didn’t happen. My mom might, though.”
“Your sisters have given her enough grandchildren, haven’t they?” Jude asked and a glimmer of jealousy hit. Anton had four sisters. He’d grown up without siblings. Maybe that’s why it felt like Anton was family. It was the closest he’d ever come to having a brother.
“None of them with the Belanov last name, though,” Anton muttered. “That’s not even technically my mother’s last name. It was my shitty father’s. Why does she care?”
They walked along the fence in silence. Jude watched some of the other games going on in the long line of courts.
“Not gonna lie. I’m with Roan. I miss you being with us,” Anton said, breaking the silence. “We can feel something missing. Someone.”
“You know how tense Mia gets when I’m around. She wouldn’t fully enjoy her baby shower if I’m there. I won’t ruin her day,” Jude said.
Mia had claimed she was over him and had invited him to things for Roan’s sake—but she’d acted weird when he showed up and could barely look him in the eye. It was so strained he’d simply stopped going. He hated not being with friends, but it seemed easier for everyone if he didn’t come along.
“I know I hurt her, but you’d think she could let it go. I have.”
“You’re not the one who had the broken heart,” Anton said.
“You’re not suggesting—” Jude shook his head. “She’s married to Roan. About to have their first kid. Her heart should be all mended up by now.”
“Should,” Anton said. They walked a few more paces. “She still asks me about you, you know?”
Jude glanced his way.
“When Roan’s not around, she asks me if you’re doing okay. If you’re seeing anyone.”
“Please don’t tell me that,” Jude said.
“Roan’s right. You need to sit down and talk to her,” Anton said. “Clear the air.”
“And what if that conversation just makes things worse,” Jude replied.
“Bring a hot guy to the next party we’re all invited to. Maybe that’ll change how she sees you and let her move on.”
Why the fuck did Jude’s mind go to Foster as the potential hot date?
Because I love to torture myself.
They stopped at the corner where they parted ways to head different directions home.
Anton eyed him. “You good?”
“I’m good.”
Anton searched his face.
“I’ll… be… fine,” Jude said, glaring at Anton.
“I’m calling you before I hit the hay. You’d better answer.”
“Yes, Dad,” Jude muttered.
“Later,” Anton said, offering his fist.
Jude bumped it and spun toward home, thoughts of Mia and Roan heavy on his mind. He didn’t want to be the thing that got between them. While he hated it, he would have to sit down with Mia and hash shit out and hope it wasn’t what Anton suggested.
At least he might get his friend back for the effort.
Have accent on the might.
As he neared home, he saw someone in front of the shop with both hands on either side of his head, peeking in through the plate glass. When whoever it was backed up and dropped his hands, it became clear who it was.
Jude stopped in his tracks, staring at Foster Price.
Did he figure out it was me?
Foster glanced down the street in the opposite direction. Before his gaze swept Jude’s way, he leapt into a nearby pie parlor and watched from the edge of the door. Foster pulled out his phone and typed something before crossing the street and getting into a newer model Mercedes SUV.
“You here using up my air conditioning, Margulies?”
Jude turned and smiled at the owner. “Hey, Sal. How are ya?” He walked closer, figuring he needed something to eat. Later. Once he’d cooled down and his stomach was no longer a series of knots. “How ‘bout my regular pie. Extra mootz.”
He’d avoided cheese and everything that could fuck his system up for a couple of days before the party. He deserved all the fresh mozzarella he could eat for his sacrifice.
“Medium or large?” Sal asked as he boxed another order.
“Large, of course,” Jude said, inhaling the tantalizing scent of Sal’s pizzas and trying to forget who’d just come to his door.
Once he’d gotten his pizza, taken a shower, pigged out, and taken a long nap, Jude cleaned his apartment and did some laundry.
He reheated some pizza for dinner, finishing off most of the box.
Plate in hand, he flipped the television on, but there were no Sunday games to keep him occupied.
Preseason had ended the night before. He flipped through the guide, looking for anything that would keep his full attention, but found nothing.
After opening an old favorite movie, he settled back and tried not to let his thoughts wander.
Good luck with that, chump.
It was kind of hard not to replay the whole scene with Foster the night before. BD himself. The first dick he’d touched besides his own. The one all others had been measured by for years after.
That thought made him pause.
Was that why he was a size king? He’d touched the holy grail of dicks at an impressionable age.
Had it had ruined him for average ones for the rest of his life?
His first dildo had been Foster-sized. It had been a mistake, of course.
He’d tried like hell to use it, but it was definitely not a starter dildo.
He'd slowly had to work his way up. He had—and then some. He had a wide selection of toys to prove it, particularly some king-sized ones.
My toys. Maybe that’ll keep my mind occupied.
Jude shoved his plate in the dishwasher and headed for his bedroom. He pulled out his lube and all of his favorite big toys. Almost an hour later and he was getting sore from the abuse, all for the sake of an orgasm. He’d had one lackluster one but knew he could do better.
But better never came.
If touching Foster’s dick had ruined him for size, did that mean being fucked by it had ruined sex itself?
He growled to himself before pulling the dildo out and tossing it onto the floor.
Foster-Fucking-Price and his big dick had one again caused Jude anguish.
Maybe it was time to make the guy pay for his sins.