Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
O n Tuesday morning, Coach had us up our weights, and I wasn’t the only one who was groaning and shuffling like an old man when we were done. I knew Coach was working us hard for a reason and that all the conditioning would be worth it when we started playing. That didn’t stop the burning in my thigh and shoulder muscles, though. Still, once I’d showered and eaten, I felt almost human again.
I kept checking my phone in case Charlie had messaged me, but the screen remained blank. I shoved down my misgivings that he’d changed his mind and reminded myself that Charlie was a sophomore with a workload and classes of his own and that I needed to chill the fuck out. Besides, it wasn’t like we were dating. This was casual.
I made it through classes and forced myself to go for a run despite the heaviness in my muscles and the unseasonal heat of the day. The humidity pressed in on me as I ran, clinging like an unwelcome hug, and by the time I rounded the corner and headed back along Fraternity Row, I was dripping with sweat, and my shirt was tied around my waist. Beads of perspiration stung my eyes as I blinked to clear my vision, already dreaming of a cold shower and an even colder Gatorade .
When my phone pinged, I pulled it out without slowing and read:
You look so hot right now. I want to lick the sweat off your skin.
I glanced over my shoulder at Alpha Tau, trying to get a glimpse of Charlie and promptly ran into the back of a parked car.
My phone pinged again.
Smooth.
I must have looked like an idiot, rubbing my hip with one hand, clutching my phone with the other, and grinning widely. I turned around and waved in the direction of Charlie’s window at Alpha Tau, only realizing my error when an orange truck, which had been reversing out of the drive, squealed to a sudden stop, and the driver barreled out of it and toward me.
It was Hawaiian Shirt Guy.
Marty.
“I’m watching you,” he said, pointing at his eyes and then at me.
I showed him my palms. “I wasn’t doing anything, dude.”
He glared at me. “Keep to your side of the street, Kappa, and we won’t have an issue.”
I was already on my side of the street, and it sounded like we definitely had an issue, but I didn’t mention either of those things because I hadn’t planned on getting punched this afternoon, and it seemed like it would be a really shitty way to end the day.
“Um, okay,” I said.
He repeated the “watching you” gesture and stalked back to his truck. When he pulled out of the driveway and roared past me, he was still glaring at me. His dog was in the passenger seat. It was glaring at me too.
My phone pinged again, with another message from Charlie.
Sorry. Marty can be kind of intense.
No fucking kidding.
“Montagues and Capulets,” I said, and then, because that was relevant and funny, I texted it to Charlie and got a laughing face emoji in reply. And then I thought, Martydudes and Kappalets ! But I couldn’t decide if it was either the funniest thing in the world or the lamest. What if Charlie thought it was dumb, instead of hilarious? Then, by the time I came to the realization I was overthinking it, it was too late to send because it would have seemed like I’d spent way too long thinking of the pun instead of just overthinking Charlie’s potential response to it. So I looked at the laughing face he’d sent already instead and decided I was going to take that as a win.
Mostly because I really needed one after Marty.
The problem with being totally gone on Charlie was that I wanted to fast-forward the bits of my life that didn’t have him in it. Like, who cared about dinner and showering and shit when I was meeting up with Charlie later? And I know that I should have cared, especially about the showering thing, but all I could keep thinking about was how great our kiss had been in the library—and how messy my pants situation had ended up—and whether or not we were going to do that some more tonight. If we did, we probably shouldn’t do it in the library again. I didn’t want to get kicked out. Or arrested.
I sent Charlie a text from the kitchen while Marcus and Bart were cracking open beers and arguing about fantasy football in the background.
Hey. Where are we meeting up?
I got back:
I didn’t think of that.
That gave me a great idea.
How about on the field?
What?
The baseball field. You know.
God. What if he didn’t know, and I’d just been really condescending.
Why would I want to meet you on the baseball field?
I breathed out a sigh of relief.
Because it’s a surprise. And there won’t be anyone there.
Okay...
Great! See you there in an hour!
I went upstairs and showered and dressed. I eyed my backpack. We weren’t really studying, right? But if anyone asked where I was going, it would help sell the lie of tutoring if I at least looked like I had my books. And I wasn’t saying that I was going to come in my pants again, but it wouldn’t hurt to throw a spare pair of shorts and boxers in there. You know, just in case .
See? I was being smart about this.
I put the spare clothes in the bag and headed out. I started up my old truck and drove into town, stopping at a late-night market and grabbing some drinks and some snacks—cheese and crackers and dip for me and caramel popcorn for Charlie, since I knew he liked that. On a whim, I threw in a pack of Halloween-themed Skittles that had been reduced to half price now that November had rolled around. I’d avoided all the holiday candy this year but fuck it. Just this once, my macros could mind their business.
When I got to the field, it was deserted. I checked my watch and debated sending a message, but before I could, my phone pinged.
Dugout.
I grinned and jogged along the perimeter of the field. Charlie was sitting in the shadows in front of the dugout, but he stood when he saw me. Before I could anything he’d stepped forward and draped his long arms around my neck.
He leaned in and kissed me, and yeah, it was just as awesome as last time. He pulled back after a few seconds and gave a breathless laugh. “Sorry.”
“Why? That was awesome.”
I caught the shadow of Charlie’s smile in the moonlight and the ghost of his scrunched-up nose, and I’d guess his face was probably adorably pink right now.
I tugged him down the steps into the dugout.
“Are we allowed to be in here?”
“Probably not,” I said. “But, come on, it’s not like we’re gonna wreck it, even if there was anything here to trash.”
“Hmm.” Charlie squinted in the darkness at the long bench, the empty cubby holes, and the cinderblock wall painted with the Lassiter Lion. Even though the place was empty, it still managed to smell like Bengay and Gatorade.
“Is this your first time in a dugout?” I asked him.
“I played Little League once,” he said. “For three weeks when I was eight. I don’t remember a dugout. I think we just sat at the side of the field.”
“You played for three weeks?”
“The longest three weeks of my entire existence,” he said gravely and then flashed me a smile in the darkness. “They always put me way, way back in right field. And the coach—well, he didn’t yell, because he was probably a really nice guy, but he wasn’t very happy that I spent all my time out there chasing bugs instead of the ball. Oh, and once a butterfly landed on my glove. I was hardly going to shake it off to try to catch the ball, was I?”
“That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” I grabbed him by the belt and reeled him in. “You’re the cutest fucking guy I’ve ever met.”
Laughing, he kissed me. Well, it was more of a weird smear of his open mouth against mine because I was laughing too, but it was still perfect because this was what I wanted. This . Me, and Charlie, and being with someone when I didn’t feel like I was lying about anything. And I didn’t just mean my sexuality. I meant everything. Charlie knew I was gay, and he knew I was sometimes awkward and said the wrong thing—or the right thing but in the wrong way—and he knew I wasn’t the smartest guy in any of my classes and nothing was ever going to change that, and he liked me anyway. And I knew he was awkward too, and I knew that he was the smartest guy in all his classes and that he was shy and that his family didn’t have much money and that he probably still preferred butterflies to baseball, and I liked him anyway too. We were good together. We felt right. And this was probably the first time in my whole life that I felt like I had everything I wanted.
“I brought snacks,” I said, releasing him to set my backpack down. “Have a dugout picnic with me?”
We sat on the bench in the dugout, using our phones as lights, and ate our snacks. It probably would have been nicer to sit out on the pitcher’s mound and actually look at the stars, but I didn’t want to attract any attention. I wanted to spend as much time tonight as I could with Charlie, not get chased back to Fraternity Row with campus security on my ass.
We talked about stuff we hadn’t talked about before, like growing up and our families and where we saw ourselves in ten years’ time, or in twenty. I stumbled over my words there a bit—partly because I didn’t want to tell Charlie that I was imagining him with me in ten or twenty years’ time but also because I’d never really articulated what it was I wanted to do.
And the word stumbling thing? That was gonna be an issue.
“Um, I’d like to get into sports broadcasting,” I said, glad it was dark because my face was burning. “Like, I get that I’m not a great speaker and stuff, but also, professional sports has a really short shelf life, you know? I’ll play as long as I can, but I’m not gonna make the MLB or anything. Well, not unless a whole bunch of other guys—like thousands of them—all blow their knees out at the same time. So I’d like to get into broadcasting eventually.” I shrugged. “It’s, uh, it’s dumb, but?—”
Charlie put his hand on my arm. “It’s not dumb. And I get it. I used to freeze up whenever I had to talk in front of people, but I still always wanted to be a lawyer. Being a tutor has helped me a lot , but you know what else did?”
“What?”
“Scout—he’s my big brother—told me to sign up for improv classes. You don’t even need to be a theater student to do it. So I did that for a few months last year.” He laughed. “I was awful at improv, but at least I don’t get too nervous talking in front of people anymore.”
“Oh, wow. I don’t think I could fit that in.”
“Well,” he said, knocking me with his elbow, “maybe not this semester but some time.”
“Yeah,” I said, wondering if I’d have to pretend to be a seed growing into a mighty oak. Or was that interpretive dance? I had no idea. But if Charlie said it was worth a try, then I trusted he was right. “Maybe.”
I’d eaten all my crackers, and Charlie was at the end of his popcorn, so I pulled out the Skittles. “Dessert?”
His face lit up. “Man, those are the best.” He wrinkled his nose. “But you’re not meant to have them, right?”
I shrugged. “I’m not meant to be in the dugouts either. Call this my rebellious phase. Besides, if we share then it’s better than me inhaling a whole pack, right?”
“Right!” Charlie agreed and held out his hand for the candy.
I tipped some into his palm. “So, Scout—that’s your big brother?”
“Yeah.”
“But you’ve already been there a year?”
“Yeah.” He tilted his head. “I mean, it’s not like he has to hold my hand or anything anymore, but he’s still my big, you know?”
I really didn’t. I honestly wasn’t sure if Marcus would be able to pick me out of a police lineup if he’d had to. It was pretty obvious that both of us were just going through the motions.
“So what, he offers you support and shit?”
“Yeah.” Charlie snorted. “Kind of. In a very Scout sort of way.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
Charlie grinned. “Like, this one time he made me get him a burrito because he said his parents would disown him if he was seen buying anything that came wrapped in foil, so I needed to order for him. And that I should get something for myself while I was there. And it was during exams week, and I’d forgotten to eat lunch.”
“He sounds weird.”
Charlie laughed. “He’s very weird, but I like him. He’s always doing nice things but in secret. It’s like he doesn’t think anyone realizes he’s a decent guy. But he has my back when it counts. All the brothers do.”
Huh . I couldn’t say I’d seen much of that at Kappa Beta Rho, but it wasn’t like I’d been spending a lot of time at the house or interacting much with the guys, not with my schedule.
“That sounds... nice,” I said, even though it sounded a little bit like bullshit? Well, not bullshit exactly, but like he was possibly seeing everything through rose-tinted glasses. Of course, he’d probably never been threatened by a maniac in an orange truck.
Like, the Montagues and the Capulets were at least as bad as each other, right? That was sort of the whole point of the feud being dumb. But every Alpha Tau I’d ever dealt with—apart from Charlie and his roommate—had acted like Kappas were the fucking devil or something. And sure, Kappa Beta Rho liked to party, but Bart was doing his best to keep it to reasonable levels, and at least we didn’t go around threatening people.
Charlie tipped his head back and funneled the Skittles into his mouth. He held up his hand and wiggled his fingers, showing me the colorful smears on his palm. “Taste the rainbow,” he said, grinning.
He lifted his hand toward his face and opened his mouth.
I caught his wrist.
Fuck Willie Mays and the 1954 New York Giants. As far as I was concerned, this was the best catch in history.
Charlie’s eyes were wide as I drew his hand toward my mouth. His pulse beat hard against my fingers, but he didn’t try to pull away. I kissed the tips of his fingers, then drew one into my mouth. Charlie sucked in a sharp breath and then let it out again, this time slowly and shakily.
I moaned, both at the sweetness flooding my mouth from the candy and the feel of Charlie’s finger against my tongue, and licked.
“Tanner!” Charlie pulled his hand away, and for a split second I was convinced that instead of being sexy and seductive I’d made things awkward, but then he grabbed my shoulders for balance, straddled my lap, and started kissing me like he’d suddenly remembered why we were here.
I ran my hands down his back and cupped his ass as Charlie rocked against me, and all my blood rushed south. Everything else faded away as I focused on the weight of Charlie against my thighs and the way he was wrapping himself around me like he didn’t want me to escape.
Please. Like I was going anywhere when I had a lap full of gorgeous redhead.
I closed my eyes when his fingers tangled in my hair and tugged, the sensation traveling straight to my dick. I tipped my head back, and Charlie kissed along my jaw and down the side of my throat, and the whole time his hips were moving, grinding against me until I was rock-hard.
And I wasn’t the only one. Charlie’s erection was obvious in his shorts. I tightened my grip on his ass and dragged him closer, desperate for more friction, and he let out a low groan against my mouth.
When he pulled back, he stared at me half-dazed and licked his lips. “I want to—can I see you?”
I blinked. “I mean, we could turn on the dugout lights, but?—”
He cupped my dick through my shorts.
Oh.
My face heated, and my heart raced. Charlie wanted to see my dick.
“Yeah?” I hadn’t meant it to sound like a question, so I tried again. “Yeah. We can—you can—yeah.”
I reached out and curled my fingers over top of his hand where he was stroking me, stopping his movements. “You have to move first.”
He scrambled off my lap and dropped to his knees, tugging at my shorts, and I lifted my ass off the bench so he could get them down my legs.
My dick sprung loose and slapped against my belly. The hem of my tee was still draped over the top, so that when my dick twitched, the movement of the fabric made it look like a tiny, horny ghost. I would have laughed, except I was too caught up in the fact that for the first time ever—changing rooms aside—I was showing another guy my dick.
Charlie reached out and pushed my tee to one side. His fingers brushed against the head, and I sucked in a breath.
So did he.
Then he reached out and wrapped his hand around the shaft, giving a long, lazy stroke, and I thrust up into his hand, chasing more, because it just felt so fucking good . Charlie grinned at me and ran his thumb over the head, and a shocked squeak escaped me. Then he lifted his thumb to his lips and sucked off the precum.
Fuck that was hot. My cock throbbed, and I reached down and started stroking myself, but this time it was Charlie’s hand that stilled mine. “Can I blow you?”
Like there was any way the answer was going to be anything except yes please and thank you.
Charlie’s hand was still on top of mine, and he was gazing at me intently. I realized he was waiting for an actual answer.
“Uh,” I said. Like a fucking idiot.
Luckily, Charlie spoke fluent Idiot. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Okay,” he said. “Um, I haven’t done anything like this before. Or anything like anything.”
“Me neither.”
He gave me an awkward grin. “In that case, it’ll be the best we’ve ever had.”
He slid his hands slowly up the insides of my thighs, the brush of his palms over my skin making me shiver. He pushed my knees apart and shuffled into the space he’d created, and my breath caught.
This was really happening.
My cock strained upward, slapping against my stomach and leaving a sticky trail. Charlie’s throat bobbed before he licked at the precum and nodded to himself, like he’d just sampled the wine at a fancy restaurant and decided to order the bottle. Then he leaned forward and put his lips around the head.
Nothing could have prepared me for the bolt of heat that raced through me when Charlie’s soft, warm mouth caressed my dick. My fingers curled tightly around the edge of the bench, and I whimpered. Charlie hummed and took in another inch, swallowing, and my hips rocked upward.
And then?—
Okay, look, I want to say that it lasted for ages. Except it didn’t. My brain barely recognized the warning signals my body was frantically sending it. Before I even knew I was coming, I already had . And Charlie, who had maybe read things better than I did or was just the victim of poor timing, had been pulling off at the time, and...
I hit him right in the eye.
“Oh! Oh shit! That stings!” He was wiping his face, but he was laughing too, so it wasn’t like I’d totally blinded him. “Oh wow. It’s just everywhere, isn’t it?”
I was laughing as well, but I went quiet when Charlie finished wiping his face and rose up on his knees, pulled me toward him with a hand in my hair, and kissed me. Charlie tasted of cum and candy—or maybe it was just candy, and my imagination was providing the rest. Whichever it was, I liked it.
I slid off the bench and onto my knees. My bunched-up shorts didn’t provide much protection against the concrete floor. Grit bit hard into my kneecaps, but I didn’t care. Charlie made urgent panting kind of breaths into our kiss, and I slid a hand along his abdomen, my fingers searching for the waistband of his shorts. When I found it, he pulled back, eyes wide .
“Can I...?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes, please.”
I pushed my hand down the front of his shorts, and he sucked in a surprised breath that made it a lot easier. It felt weird. I was no stranger to shoving my hand down my own pants, but this was like trying to swing a bat left-handed. It was all backward.
Charlie didn’t seem to mind, though. He pressed his face to the crook of my neck, breathing hard as I worked my hand inside his underwear, wrapped a hand around him, and jerked him off in short, choppy strokes.
He didn’t last any longer than I had. He groaned against my skin, tensed, and came, spilling hot over my fingers as his cock pulsed in my grip.
“Oh.” He rested his forehead on my shoulder, and I tugged at the curls at the nape of his neck with my free hand. “Oh, Tan.”
Was that a pet name? Nobody had ever called me Tan before. I liked the idea that it was just for Charlie, like a secret spell that only he knew.
He lifted his head and grinned at me. “I’m a mess. Worth it.”
“Yeah,” I said, huffing out a laugh. “Hold on.” I pulled the waistband of his shorts open and eased my hand up and off his softening dick, doing my best to gather as much cum as I could. I pulled it out the top of Charlie’s shorts like a magician producing a rabbit from a top hat—minus the ta-dah , obviously.
And then I had a handful of cum.
Again, not my first time in this situation, but holding someone else’s sure was new.
“Um,” I said.
I wasn’t proud of what happened next, but we weren’t going to finish that tzatziki anyhow, and I had to put the cum somewhere . So I put it there. I definitely had to dump the container in the bottom of a trash can on my way back to Fraternity Row now, and not put it in a refrigerator or anything. It was the logical way to clean up; it just felt really, really wrong.
Then, snickering at how gross we were and what would happen if someone ate the tzatziki now, we left the dugout and went and sat on the field and looked up at the stars.