Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jack
The neon sign for Seacliff Bowl flickered against the dark sky as Cooper pulled into the gravel parking lot.
The building looked like it hadn’t been updated since the seventies—faded blue paint peeling around the edges, and a hand-painted sign advertising “Cosmic Bowling Friday Nights!” in enthusiastic bubble letters.
“This place has character,” I said, taking in the retro charm.
Cooper grinned as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “That’s a polite way of saying it’s a dump.”
“I didn’t say that.” I followed him toward the entrance, my stomach doing nervous flips.
Cooper had asked me out. After days of carefully navigating our new dynamic, he’d been the one to suggest this date.
The thought sent warmth spreading through my chest, but it also ramped up the pressure I’d been putting on myself. Tonight needed to be perfect.
The interior hit us with a wave of familiar bowling alley scents: floor wax, beer, and the faint mustiness of well-worn rental shoes.
The sound of pins crashing echoed from the dozen lanes, punctuated by cheers and groans from other bowlers.
Overhead speakers played classic rock at a volume that energized bowlers and drowned out conversation.
“Two games and shoe rental,” Cooper told the teenager behind the counter, sliding cash across the scratched Formica surface.
“I can pay,” I protested.
“You can get the beer.” Cooper’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’re going to need it after I destroy you.”
“Confident, are you?” I accepted the red-and-blue rental shoes, trying not to think about how many feet had worn them before mine. “What makes you think you’re so good at this?”
“Absolutely nothing. But you’re terrible.”
We claimed lane seven, and I busied myself entering our names into the scoring system while Cooper laced up his shoes.
The familiar weight of performance anxiety settled on my shoulders.
What if I was so bad it wasn’t even fun?
What if I overthought every throw and made things awkward?
The perfect boyfriend would be charming and confident, maybe even let Cooper win gracefully.
“Jack.” Cooper’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “You’re frowning at that computer like it kicked your puppy.”
I forced a grin.
Cooper studied my face for a moment, then grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the racks of balls. “Come on, let’s pick out some weapons of mass destruction.”
The bowling balls sat in neat rows, their surfaces gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Cooper hefted a marbled blue one, testing its weight. “This feels right. What about you?”
I selected a solid black ball that felt manageable in my grip. “This should work.”
We dropped our bowling balls off at our lane and made our way to the bar, where a bored-looking bartender sold us two glasses of Barnacle Brews lager.
Cooper set his glass in a cup holder back at our lane. “You go first and set the tone for my inevitable victory.”
The beer helped settle my nerves. I stepped up to the line for my first frame, acutely aware of Cooper watching from the plastic chair behind me.
“Remember,” Cooper called out, “it’s all in the follow-through.”
I drew back and released the ball with what I hoped looked like practiced ease. It rolled straight for about ten feet before veering dramatically to the right, ending up in the gutter with a hollow thunk.
“Solid start,” Cooper said cheerfully. “Really setting the bar high.”
My second ball managed to knock down three pins, their wooden clattering echoing through the lane. “Three points. Not embarrassing at all.”
Cooper patted my shoulder as he passed me. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you how it’s done.”
His first ball started strong, rolling down the center with confidence before hooking left at the last second and taking down seven pins. “See? Technique.”
“Very impressive.” I pointed at the pins. “Though I notice you didn’t get them all.”
“Details.” Cooper lined up his second shot and picked up two more pins. “Nine points. That’s how you do it.”
The evening unfolded with comfortable competition and increasingly creative excuses for our mutual lack of skill.
Cooper beat me in the first game by twenty-six points, which felt simultaneously embarrassing and endearing.
During the second game, he started offering tips that were completely wrong but delivered with such confidence that I found myself laughing instead of worrying about my performance.
“The secret,” Cooper said, demonstrating an approach that involved a little spin move before releasing the ball, “is to confuse the pins.”
“I don’t think that’s how physics works.”
“Physics is overrated.” His ball somehow knocked down six pins despite the theatrical wind-up. “See?”
I tried to copy his technique and nearly fell over, sending my ball careening into the left gutter. “Your method needs work.”
“My method got me six pins. Your method got you zero.”
“Touché.”
By the middle of the second game, I’d stopped worrying about being the perfect date and started just enjoying Cooper’s company.
He had a way of making everything feel lighter, turning my gutter balls into opportunities for jokes instead of sources of stress.
When he high-fived me for actually hitting the pins—all of them, somehow—his hand lingered in mine for just a moment longer than necessary.
“Finally!” Cooper cheered as my strike registered on the screen. “I knew you had it in you.”
“Beginner’s luck.”
“I’ll take it.” He squeezed my hand before letting go. “Beer’s on me if you can do it again.”
I couldn’t, of course. My next ball rolled sedately down the lane and knocked over exactly four pins. But Cooper bought me another beer anyway, claiming that my strike had been “inspirational” even if unrepeatable.
“This is payback, you know,” Cooper said. He’d beaten me again, this time by thirty-one points.
“Payback for what?”
“All those times you demolished me at video games. Finally found something I’m marginally better at.”
“Marginally?” I gestured at the scoreboard. “You broke one hundred in both games. I wasn’t anywhere close.”
“Like I said. Marginal.”
The drive back to Cooper’s apartment felt different from the trip to the bowling alley.
The nervous energy had transformed into something warmer, more intimate.
Cooper hummed along to the radio, his fingers drumming against his thigh in a rhythm that made me want to reach over and still them with my hand.
“Coffee?” Cooper asked as we approached his door. “Or are you sick of anything caffeinated?”
“Coffee sounds great.”
I settled onto the couch while Cooper busied himself in the kitchen, the familiar sounds of his coffee routine creating a comfortable soundtrack. When he returned with two steaming mugs, he sat closer than strictly necessary, his thigh pressing against mine.
“Thank you.” I accepted the coffee. “For tonight, I mean. I needed this.”
“Me, too.” Cooper’s voice was softer now, more serious. He set his mug on the coffee table and turned to face me fully.
“I know we said we’d take our time, but I keep thinking about the other night. About how right it felt.”
I set my own mug aside, afraid I might drop it. “It did feel right.”
“Can I kiss you again?”
“I—” Words failed me. What was I trying to say? That something had changed between us? That I wanted to obliterate the boundaries we’d set?
Instead of speaking, I leaned forward. I closed the distance between us until our lips met. This was a statement rather than a question.
Cooper went still for a heartbeat, then his hand came up to cup my face, his touch gentle as he kissed me back. There was a tenderness to it that made my chest ache, a carefulness that felt nothing like exploration.
When we broke apart, his eyes searched mine, looking for something I wasn’t sure I could give him. “Jack,” he whispered, his voice rough. “What are we doing?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. The honesty forced its way out. “I just know I wanted to kiss you.”
Something flared in Cooper’s eyes—hope, perhaps. His thumb brushed against my stubble in a gesture so sweet it made me shiver.
“Is that okay?” I asked, suddenly unsure.
Cooper’s answer was to kiss me again, deeper this time.
His hand slid to the back of my neck to draw me closer.
I went willingly. My body responded to his touch with an eagerness that might have surprised me if I’d been capable of surprise just then.
All I could focus on was the feel of him—his lips on mine, his hands in my hair, the solid warmth of his body as I pressed closer.
We ended up tangled together, lying on the couch. Cooper’s hands found their way under my shirt. His touch left a trail of heat across my skin. I explored him in turn and mapped the planes of his lightly hairy chest, the curve of his shoulders, the territory both familiar and startlingly new.
“Should we stop?” he asked against my neck, his breath hot on my skin.
Part of me—the logical, cautious part—knew we should. This was dangerous and blurred the lines we’d carefully drawn. But a larger part, the part currently on fire with need, couldn’t bear the thought of stopping.
“No.” I pulled him back to me. “Don’t stop.”
Our erections lined up as we lay full length against each other, and I ground into him.
Cooper whispered, “What are you doing?”
What was I doing? We’d set parameters so that these four weeks wouldn’t get complicated. But I couldn’t resist him. I didn’t want to resist him. “I want more.”
He pulled back and searched my gaze. An array of emotions—wonder, trust, need—passed quickly through his eyes. “Then we’ll do more.”
I rose, bracketed his calves with my knees, and pushed his sweater up to reveal a flat stomach and the sexy V of his hip bones above low-slung jeans. I leaned forward, nuzzled the soft skin at his lower belly, and inhaled the musky scent that was uniquely Cooper. My cock pulsed in my jeans.
“Jack,” he whispered. “Please.”
“I’ve got you.” I unzipped his jeans, and he lifted his hips so I could pull his pants and briefs down to his thighs.
His cock bobbed free, long and thick. I’d dreamed of its silk-on-steel feel, its musky scent, its salty taste, but the reality surpassed my fantasies.
My dick throbbed as my imagination ran wild with possibilities. But for now, I’d keep things simple.
Who knew how we’d feel after we crossed this line?
I was too far gone in the moment to care.
I shoved my jeans to my thighs and lowered myself until our cocks aligned, the touch of his hot, hard dick against mine electrifying.
He groaned at the contact and took us both in hand, fully on board. He swiped our precum, used it as lube, and stroked us together.
I’d done this with other men before, but this was Cooper. I’d hungered for this for years. I nearly sailed off the couch at the feel of my best friend jacking us together. I wasn’t going to last long.
He set up a steady rhythm, and soon the telltale tingle ran down my spine. “I’m going to—”
“Me, too.” His voice was strained as his hand flew. He shuddered, and a long moan escaped from deep within his chest. Ropes of cum shot onto his stomach. The sight sent me over the edge, and my cum joined his.
We’d made a beautiful mess.
I braced myself for misgivings, for seeing regret in Cooper’s eyes. But all I felt was satisfaction, and all I saw was…tenderness. Relief flooded through me, followed by a surge of happiness I couldn’t contain.
I cleared my throat. “Stay here.” I levered off him and shuffled to the bathroom, where I found a washcloth and wet it with warm water. I took care of myself, then returned to Cooper and gently cleaned his stomach.
“Thank you,” he murmured. But I wasn’t sure exactly what he was thanking me for. Was it for taking care of him? Or was it for something deeper—for the intimacy we’d just shared, for stepping over that invisible line we’d been dancing around? I hoped it was both.
We’d crossed a line we’d never approached before. I’d discovered how Cooper sounded when pleasure overtook him—a sound I knew I wanted to hear again.
He yawned and stretched, lazy and fluid like a cat. I glanced at my watch—it was getting late for someone with a four a.m. wake-up call. I held out my hand. “Come on, sleepyhead. Time for bed.”
He tugged up his jeans and took my hand. I helped him to his feet.
“I had fun tonight,” he said. “Even if you are terrible at bowling.”
“I'm not that terrible.”
“You scored lower than the bumpers would have given you.”
“Details.” I leaned down to kiss him one more time, quick and sweet. “Goodnight, Cooper.”
“Goodnight.”
I walked to my apartment with Cooper’s taste still on my lips and the sound of his laughter echoing in my ears. Tonight had been perfect—not because I’d been the perfect boyfriend, but because I’d relaxed and been myself.
Was that enough?