23. Nineteen
Nineteen
Beau
A scorching sun beat down on my back as I hovered over a saw, cutting precisely two inches from the wood planks. While the teasing and hazing had stopped, I wouldn’t chance anything.
Jake was uncharacteristically late today and spent most of the morning pouring concrete with Everett across the lot. When Danny whistled to signal lunch, I hurried in his direction, but he was already off with some guys to grab sandwiches from the deli at the gas station down the highway.
“Your boyfriend ditched you?” Jim chirped, approaching from behind with Patrick and a few other guys as they lumbered to the lawn chairs. “Never seen him high-tail it out of here so fast without you. Trouble in paradise?”
“Fuck off,” I grumbled, tugging off my hard hat and running a hand through my damp hair. Sweltering today. “As if you don’t eat salami for lunch sometimes.”
The guys laughed, Jim included, as he tossed a heavy arm over my shoulder and guided me to join them.
“Soft hands Hollywood has some jokes.” He pretended to slug me in the gut. “Glad you finally got a sense of humor. Was afraid you’d be one of those assholes tattling to Palmer.”
The guys crowed and howled, launching into taunts and jokes. Stupid as these dipshits were, their camaraderie left me missing my friends. I took out my phone, shooting a quick text to Sasha.
Me: Hey, you. Sorry. I lost track of things.
A lie, but I let it go. It was easier than admitting how pathetic I felt and how little I wanted to talk about it, thus avoiding her regular text updates.
Me: Things good with you? I miss coffee chats and sleeping on your couch.
A moment later, a picture came through. Sasha stood proudly with a picket sign draped over her shoulder and a middle finger held even prouder.
Sasha: He lives! Did you forget to respond to the ten other texts, too? Love you, Beau, but do better. Is it her again? The girl from Christmas? If you come moping back like last time, you’re banned from this couch. I repeat. Do better.
I bit my lip, chuckling. Needed some Sasha perspective.
Me: Just being a dick. Can I call you after work? Catch up? Redeem myself? Grovel?
Sasha: You can book a ticket back. We’ve got a couch surfing sign-up for you. Get ready. Rumor is they’ve reached a tentative agreement. *Happy dance.*
Happy dance. It should have been a happy dance. Not a sinking gut.
My saving grace project got pulled out from beneath me. I had nothing to return to. Working weeks of construction did little to improve my shoulder, and I hadn’t had physical therapy in months because I couldn’t afford it.
Neither place worked for me, another stunning example of why I would never be a contender—for anything.Instead of saying that, I sent Sasha a party emoji and tucked my phone in my pocket.
It was stupid to feel apprehensive about leaving when this job sucked; this town a little bit, too. Friends awaited me in L.A. with open arms and offers of couches.
It’s what I had wanted when my bags hit the floor at my parents’ house.
It was supposed to be a good morning—a good day on the tail end of a great night.
But… I’d spent that great night alone, jerking off and watching other people spend it together. Did that actually make it great?
My narrowed eyes studied Jake as he leaned against the concrete mixer, rubbing his lower back. He stared at the woods in the distance.
Returning from lunch, he continued to ignore me. Maybe he was embarrassed. Maybe he regretted including me last night. Maybe Fallon did. Maybe I fucked up.
But I thought... I thought he liked it. He said next time…
I was already halfway across the lot before I registered my foolishness. Jake glanced over, catching my charge in his peripheral vision. Or perhaps he sensed my presence the way I always sensed him. Knew where he was or what he was doing—a lifetime of practice.
“Hey,” he said when I was less than ten feet away. “What’s—”
I didn’t let him finish, shoving him hard enough to stumble backward into the mixer.
“What the fuck? ” Jake growled, recovering and storming at me, but I was ready. My heels dug into the dirt, but he didn’t shove me back or hit me like I thought he would. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“You’re ignoring me.” Loud. I was too loud.
A couple of guys nearby turned their attention to us, eyes curious as they watched. Jake glanced at them and grabbed my elbow, tugging me to the other side of the mixer. Tall and wide enough to afford some privacy, I worried he might murder me without witnesses.
I dragged my heels, but Jake didn’t relent until he shoved me against the machine. His nostrils flared as his bewildered eyes met mine.
“Again, I ask. What the fuck? ”
“You could have just told me to fuck off!” I exclaimed, brushing his hand off me when I registered his tight fist on my shirt.
Jake dropped his hand as if he realized it at the same moment, stepping back and pulling off his hard hat to feather a hand through his hair.
My voice softened, and I hated myself for it. “You don’t have to ignore me. That’s so much worse.”
His jaw worked side to side as he stared at the ground. “I… I wasn’t—”
“You were,” I hissed, this time controlling my volume.
Jake’s eyes shot to mine briefly before he collapsed his chin to his chest. “I was,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to. I felt weird. I’m sorry. That’s my fault, not yours.”
His honesty surprised me, but not as much as his vulnerability.
“I—It’s okay. I get it.” The worst part was, I did.
I panicked the first time I saw another dude jerking off, even when I wanted to see it. It’s likely a trillion times worse when you don’t want to.
Jake’s jaw went tight, the muscle in his neck flexing. It did the same last night as his back arched against the bed just before coming down Fallon’s throat. The same craving to lick my tongue along it struck low in my belly.
“It’s not okay,” he said quietly, sweeping his hand over his neck.
Images of Fallon’s fingers tangling in the curls of dark hair flooded me. Longing competed with guilt. I wanted to know if his hair was as silky as it looked when he stood in front of me with his confession.
“I’m trying not to be an asshole, but I’ve never… obviously. You know that.” He cleared his throat. “Fal had fun. We had fun. So. Give me a second to be weird, please.”
I sighed, my hands scrubbing over my face. Damp with sweat, I blamed the heat of the afternoon.
“It’s fine to feel weird. Be weird, even. But it’s not fine to be a dick. You get that, right?”
Jake nodded once, digging the toe of his boot into the ground. A grinding saw split the air, guys shouting over it as we stood wordlessly, staring at one another. Everything and nothing existed in the silence between us. I wasn’t sure either of us needed to say anything, but I spoke anyway.
“You said next time…” I trailed off, praying I hadn’t jumped the shark here. “So does that mean…”
Jake grunted, shaking his head as he shoved me toward the site. He signaled Everett to give him another minute before returning his attention to me. Those eyes were no longer shy, assessing closely.
“You’ll treat Fallon like the queen she is?”
I swallowed, nodding. “Yeah, man. She’s amazing.”
His glare didn’t lighten, and neither did my blush. I didn’t want to feel shy when I wanted it so badly, but my feelings for Fallon embarrassed me. Entertaining a crush proved how stupid I was because it was supposed to be fun and hot with Good Time Beau.
My feelings for Jake were even more excruciating for different reasons, but I figured if I smiled enough, he wouldn’t see.
“You won’t hurt her?”
My eyes widened, and I shook my head furiously. “No, never.”
He gave a noncommittal grunt, like he had some thoughts about that.
“Okay. Next time is tonight.”
I clapped my hands and let out a “Whoop,” kicking my heels together. Jake groaned.
“Bestie.” I slapped his back and shoved him in the opposite direction. “Hydrate and stretch. Jerk off before I show up so you don’t blow too fast and—”
I ran away with laughter trailing in my wake before he could throw a hammer at me.
“You’re a fucking idiot.”My best friend’s chiding came as no surprise. My real best friend, Jason.
But damn, I think Kate’s pessimism was rubbing off on him because he did not sound as excited as me when I told him about my evening plans.
A quick call on the drive to Fallon’s house was supposed to be a hype-up. It was not.
“It’s a bad idea,” he added, in case I hadn’t inferred that from the fucking idiot comment.
I ignored him, slowing as I approached Fallon’s driveway near the bend beyond Old Man Beckett’s property.
“It’s no different from Christmas,” he continued into the phone, and I regretted calling him.
This was not like Christmas. There was another person! And yeah, it was her boyfriend. And yeah, he wanted to watch me fuck Fallon, not fall in love with her.
I groaned, pulling onto the shoulder of the road and burying my face in my hands. “I’ve been with men. I’ve been with women. I’ve been with men and women together, but not a rigidly straight man, you know?”
Jason laughed into the receiver so loud that some birds flew from the grass in the ditch beside my parked car as his amusement echoed over the speakers. “My friend, you think jerking off together is rigidly straight?”
I dropped my hands from my face as I considered that. “He’s straight.”
“Likely,” he conceded. “But he’s unbothered by your dick being in the same room as him, and he’s definitely unbothered by it being in his girlfriend. So, I don’t know. It’s a terrible idea, but if you’re going to do it, make it an epic terrible.”
So many ways this could be epically terrible that weren’t sexually pleasing, but I opted not to point that out.
“I’m nervous,” I admitted. “I’m probably going to get my heart broken, but fuck it. People don’t need hearts, anyway. That hot alpha dude I lusted over in high school wants me to fuck his gorgeous girlfriend, who I might be in love with? Why not? What could go wrong?
“Besides, I can lick my wounds back in L.A. After I lick Fallon’s cunt and fuck her in front of Jake. He might want to share her at the same time. Is that like fucking each other through her? I better bring my A game.”
I glanced at my crotch. “Called to bat, buddy. We’re gonna knock it out of the park. Get warmed up.”
Jason sighed. “I’m still here, Beau. Still on the line.”
I squinted into the rearview mirror to check traffic before getting back on the highway and turning into her driveway. “I’m just nervous.”
“You rattle on when you’re nervous,” he agreed. “You’re usually fist-pumping, dancing, and whooping like an idiot, not calling me for inspirational motivation. ”
“You’re terrible at it, by the way.” With a sigh, I stared out the window, gripping the steering wheel and wondering if he was right. Feelings and fucking mixing like this…
“Just gonna get it out of my system,” I vowed. “That’s it. Just see what it’s like, live a bit of a fantasy, rock their world, and that’s that. That’s all they want, anyway. All I want.”
Jason hummed.
“Swear!”
He paused, and I didn’t like it. “Swear on Tiffany.”
Goddamn. I hated that stupid pledge of honesty we made when I spread that pornographic poster over my bedroom wall at fifteen. Tiffany Tits, we called her, and she still hung above my bed. I’d been so excited about saving up the ten dollars to buy her at the dirty movie store, plus the three bucks to pay a friend’s older brother to purchase it since they wouldn’t let underage dipshits in.Jason spent the rest of high school jealous of my treasure.
“I swear on Tiffany,” I murmured, meaning it. I didn’t need to be dumb about this. The rules were clear, and expectations were set. I was a tool in their wanton and raunchy bedroom, there to tease and tempt and taunt and have a good fucking time doing some good fucking.
I took a deep breath, knowing I would have to be my own hype guy. I palmed my dick, waking him up. “Wish us luck. ”
“Good luck to you, Fallon, and Jake,” Jason said diplomatically as I cut the engine and checked out the tiny rambler with its sun-worn shingles and busted gutters.
“I meant me and my dick, dumbass.” I rubbed my hands together, ignoring his annoyance on the other end. “In twenty minutes, I’m going to be naked and balls deep in—”
Jason hung up before I finished.