Chapter 6
REAL
The sand is still warm from the sun that set hours ago, soft under our feet except for the stray seashells here and there.
Flynn’s palm pressed against mine, our fingers locked together as we walk, has me feeling all kinds of fluttery and stupid inside.
I’ve spent thousands of days promising myself I’d never be as stupid over any man again the way I was over Flynn when we were teenagers.
And yet, here I am, fifteen years later, same guy, same desperate feeling filling my chest and trying to convince me that this time it will end differently.
We’re not sixteen anymore.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, stopping to pick up a particularly spikey shell. He turns it over in his free hand, checking to see if there’s a critter living inside before carefully slipping it into his pocket.
“I’m thinking about…” How much we’ve both changed and somehow stayed the same, how incredible the last two days have been and that even though we have five days left, it doesn’t feel like enough.
I’m thinking about how hot and possessive your mouth felt on my cock back at the bar. “New York,” I answer.
“New York?”
“Yeah.” I squeeze his hand tighter, summoning my courage and promising myself I’ll be fine if he brushes me off.
I’ve survived heartbreak at the hands of Flynn Vale before, and I can do it again if I have to.
“There’s this bar right around the corner from my apartment, and on Thursday nights, there’s karaoke.
It’s not like the kind of karaoke night where everyone acts like they’re auditioning for American Idol either.
It’s a bunch of gay dudes in costume belting out some of the absolute worst singing you’ve heard in your life. ”
He chuckles. “That sounds like fun.”
“It is.” My heart forces its way into my throat, but I press on. “Maybe we could go together sometime.”
“Only if you let me buy you dinner first,” he barters without missing a beat.
I lean into him, bumping my shoulder against his. “You’re on.”
Did we just make a date? At the very least, it’s a promise that whatever this is doesn’t have to end as soon as we step off the island. I’ll take it.
We walk a little farther in silence, the tide lapping at our feet and the full moon lighting the beach for us.
“Hey, look at that,” Flynn says, tugging my hand to get me to stop and pointing toward one of the beach houses with his free hand.
At first, I don’t see anything in the dark, aside from a light on in one of the windows on the ground floor.
“Up,” he says, jerking his chin and pointing higher.
I finally catch sight of what stopped him. A man is climbing through the second-floor window.
“Is he breaking in? Should we call someone?” I pat my pockets in search of my phone, wondering if there’s a special number to call around here like beach security? Or is it still just 9-1-1?
“It looks like he’s climbing out,” Flynn says.
Flynn is right. The man stumbles out onto the roof that overhangs the large porch. I gasp instinctively, my heart dropping as he nearly loses his footing, catching himself on the windowsill just in time. It’s hard to tell from this far in the moonlight, but it almost looks like he’s naked.
We stand riveted to the spot, watching as this possibly naked dude manages to maneuver himself onto the porch below, landing surprisingly gracefully before jogging down the steps and toward the boardwalk that leads straight to the beach, right toward us.
And yup, he’s stark naked. His soft cock bounces between his legs as he jogs in our direction, a carefree expression on his face.
Even in my shock at the bizarre situation, I manage to register that the man is stupidly hot with dark-brown hair, a charming smile, and a killer body.
There’s a dusting of dark hair on his chest, a thicker trail leading from his belly button down to his pubic hair.
He takes the stairs with a pep in his step, seemingly without a care in the world, pausing when his feet hit the sand and giving us a roguish, toothy grin.
“The boyfriend changed his mind about the three-way,” he explains, tilting his head back toward the house and then shooting us a wink before taking off down the beach.
His ass is pale as Flynn and I both stare, still transfixed and baffled as we watch him go.
The moonlight is just bright enough to read the word Easy scrawled across the man’s left ass cheek before he’s gone.
“What the actual fuck?” I ask with a chuckle.
“I don’t have the first damn clue.” Flynn laughs right along with me, the two of us continuing on down the beach like nothing happened.
Crazy naked dudes on the beach, second chances with first loves…Hand Job Island might just be my favorite place on Earth.
FLYNN
We have a date for when we get home. Was that all it took to ease Real’s mind about all of this? Fuck, I should’ve just asked for it yesterday, right after the kiss. Or, hell, I should’ve asked as soon as I knew we both lived in New York.
He’s more relaxed now, leaning into me and clutching my hand as we amble slowly along the beach in the direction of the hotel, in no particular rush to get there.
“I have to know, even though I know it will make me jealous,” he hedges as we navigate around several large pieces of driftwood. “Did you make a new best friend after you left?”
I laugh at the seriousness in his voice and squeeze his hand. “No. You’re my first, last, and only, baby.”
“Damn, now I feel guilty,” he confesses.
I gasp with pretend indignation. “Are you telling me that you have a new best friend? I’m not sure if that’s a betrayal I can recover from.”
Real chuckles. “It’s not the same at all, I swear.”
“Fine. If there’s another man in your life, I suppose I should meet him when we get home.”
“You mean it?” he asks, stopping to pick up a shell, just like I did earlier.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”
“It’s just, you said yesterday that you don’t have relationships, and maybe I’m reading this situation all wrong right now, but we have a date, I think, and you want to meet my friends, and…”
I cut him off with a kiss. “You’re not reading anything wrong.
Do you want to know why I’ve never had anything more than a one-night stand?
” Real nods even as his eyebrows pull together with worry.
“It’s because my heart already made up its mind that you were it.
I would’ve been wasting my time with anyone else. ”
His breath catches. “Wow,” he whispers, licking his lips and then tearing his eyes off me to look out at the ocean as if he’s gathering himself from the too-intense moment. “Okay, so this is like real real.”
“The most real,” I assure him.
“Me too, by the way,” he says, finally returning his eyes to mine. “All these years, it was always you.”
I’m surprised by how much of a relief it is to hear that.
A smile creeps over my lips, and I kiss him again, hard and hungry but brief.
He wobbles on his feet when I break the kiss, stumbling into me.
I wrap my arms around him, memorizing the feel of him in my arms for a few seconds before letting him go.
We restart our walk, and Real falls back into his seemingly pre-prepared mental list of questions. “Favorite movie in the last fifteen years?”
We talk about all those lost years until we realize we’re back at the hotel. My stomach growls again like it did earlier, and it occurs to me that we never did eat.
“How about that room service after all? And then I’ll see if I can convince you to spend the night in my bed.”
“I think there’s a strong chance I can be persuaded.”