32. Fans of Kale #3
Jonathan knew Connor would overheat and throw the covers off, but they always started out together and touching.
He reached across the small gap between their bodies and pressed his palm to that spot between Connor’s pecs that seemed to be perfectly designed for his hand.
Connor’s chest expanded, then sank with a deep exhale that Jonathan could feel through his fingers. He liked touching Connor in these little ways, and in the lazy aftermath, they could talk about all sorts of things. “I’m glad you’re going to the ranch.”
“Trying to get rid of me, huh?”
“Absolutely not, you have many uses, as you just amply demonstrated.”
Connor’s eyelids pushed partially open and his sleepy gaze locked with Jonathan’s. Jonathan wanted him like this, soft and happy and warm, for as long as he could have him.
“I think a change will be good for you. Be outside a lot, see your family, get away, all of that. Just don’t take your horse to the old town road, so to speak.” He didn’t get the snort he’d expected, the one that would help him conceal how much he was going to miss Connor.
The silence felt like a second blanket, and Connor’s eyelids fluttered closed.
“I’m going to tell them.” The statement sounded sleep-slurred and wispy.
Jonathan froze. “About—”
He faltered.
How he phrased this mattered, but he had no idea whether he was supposed to describe the assault with passive voice or active voice or Connor-centered statements, and he didn’t even know what those would be. “About what happened Monday?”
“No, not that.” Connor’s toes twitched on the top of Jonathan’s foot, as if more than mere flexing and releasing was beyond his energy. “About me. You.”
He’d forgotten or, more accurately, stopped perseverating on the fact that Connor, the star of Queers for Beers and a man incredibly comfortable with himself, wasn’t out to his family.
Two weeks ago, he’d been a little bitch thinking that constituted lying, when it was Connor’s choice and Connor’s risk, not something meant to hurt Jonathan.
The news that Connor was going to come out, and possibly even share their relationship, filled him with flutters, but even new and improved Jonathan didn’t know what to say. Clearly, he hadn’t shelved enough books about gratitude.
“Why don’t you give me your house keys, and I’ll go over and pack for you?”
“Thanks, but I have to do it.” Connor rolled to his back and pulled Jonathan along for the ride. “Don’t think you’d know ranch clothes if I dressed you in them.”
“I have absolutely read Dallas Vogue. It’s shelved alphabetically between the British and French editions.”
Connor laughed softly and his hand flexed on Jonathan’s hip.
The laughter brought its own relief, giving Connor’s face back the lightness that had peeked through while cooking dinner or in fleeting moments with Ribby and Pawsley.
His other arm tightened around Jonathan’s shoulders, which wasn’t enough warning before he smushed Jonathan’s face into his pectoral muscle and let him feel the laughter.
“Armpit, gross.” Jonathan pushed up onto one arm and looked down into Connor’s eyes.
“To be clear, because that’s what we said we’re going to do, be clear with each other, I want to be with you when you go back in the house for the first time since you told me about what happened.
I have late shift tomorrow. We can go in the morning. ”
“Okay. I kind of need more clothes.” Connor’s Adam’s apple moved when he swallowed.
Honestly, his neck was so thick that it wasn’t nearly as prominent at Jonathan’s own, so when he took the time to stare at it, he felt the urge to lick it. Was that weird? It must be weird.
“My tank tops don’t fit you?” They fit like 1 am in West Hollywood and he wanted to slam doors over the fact that Connor had worn one to a coffee shop this morning and he hadn’t been there to see it. And bare his teeth at everyone who had.
“You tell me.” He left Jonathan balanced on top of his torso and stretched both arms across the mattress, his wingspan more than enough to reach from edge to edge. And then he inhaled and his chest actually lifted Jonathan’s body.
“Any more fucking hot and I’ll have to call the HVAC guy, you asshole. Lily’s crushing on him so that would be mean.” It was so easy to make Connor smile. So addictive.
“It would be nice if you came with me to the house.”
“Done.” His voice didn’t even crack. Doing a relationship was turning out to be almost as easy as making garden pasta, ha. He wanted to throw his arms up and swivel for the audience and gloat, hey haters, my life is the long program and I fucking nailed it.
Connor wrapped himself around Jonathan again and rolled them sideways, then pressed his lips to Jonathan’s forehead. Another one of those kisses.
“For the record, I solemnly swear not to be an uncommunicative male main character. And to get, like, a therapist.”
“Same. Pact. And I’ll get you a referral from mine.” He still didn’t believe in fate, but he’d scored his own appointment in time to have a connection to ask for someone who could talk with Connor. He could at least believe in luck.
“Pact.”