Chapter 32
Beau
Nerves flutter in my belly, a million tiny butterflies moshing and going wild. Tonight, I’m going to do it. I’m going to ask Milo to be my boyfriend.
Sweat is pooling under my arms and down my chest, and I’m soaking through another undershirt. I need some extra-strength shit to get this under control or I’m not going to be able to actually make it out the door.
Milo looked so cute and excited when I told him I wanted to take him out tonight. His face lit up, and a blush spread across his cheeks, those lovely freckles standing out against the flush.
He’s standing in the room, our room. I don’t bother with the guest room. I haven’t in a long time. Why would I want to sleep anywhere but in his arms? Why would I want to be anywhere but with him?
Fuck, he looks good.
He’s standing in front of the full-length mirror, doing up a deep green button-down. His slacks hug his delicious ass and the curve of his thighs. I want to fall to my knees and worship it. To pull down those tight slacks and bite his bubble butt.
Oh, he’s saying something.
“What was that?” I ask. He smirks because he knows I was distracted by his ass. Of course I was. It’s the perfect ass.
“I said, if you would pay attention…” I roll my eyes at him, and he laughs. “What are you wearing to this place? Where are we going again?”
“Okay, okay.” I throw my hands up in mock surrender because that was way more than one question. “You look great in that, perfect even. I just can’t find the shirt I was going to wear.”
I walk out of the room and to my bag in the guest room because, okay, so I’m not sleeping in there, but moving my stuff into his room feels like such a huge step. We already passed so many steps by living together before we even started seeing each other. I’m scared to pass any more.
I rifle through the closet before finding the black shirt I’m looking for. I’m simple, classic. I want the focus to be on Milo and making him feel special. Because he is special. He’s so special to me.
Speaking of, he pokes his head into the open doorway, looking around. There’s a tiny frown on his face until he spots me, then it spreads into a big, beautiful smile.
“You look amazing.” His words are so sweet, so demure. I walk over to him with purpose, and he stares up at me through thick lashes. My hand caresses his cheek, and he leans into the touch, before leaning in for a kiss.
The kiss is sweet, tender, nothing hurried or rushed about it, just enjoying the feeling of his lips pressed against mine. I long to taste him, but I know what that will turn into if I’m not careful, so I pull away from the kiss and just stare at him longingly.
We stand there for several moments, eyes locked, arms wrapped around each other, just lost in each other’s eyes. I want to get lost in him for days.
His eyes, in this light, look like a wild field, grassy slopes I could lose myself in.
“Should we go, or…” he asks me, kind of shyly. I know what he’s suggesting, and I want it too. I want it so bad, but I want tonight even more. I lean forward and kiss his forehead, his pretty blond curls getting in my way, before I pull him out the door.
We walk outside, and before I can pull out the keys to his BMW, he’s already walking toward Buck.
“Sorry, baby.” I chuckle. “You’re driving. The roads are still a little icy.” He rolls his eyes at me before catching the keys I toss to him. “We don’t want another off-roading adventure.” I laugh and wink at him. “I’m fresh out of lube packets in Buck.”
He flushes the deepest red. It spreads down his neck, and I would bet anything that if I opened up that shirt, I’d find his chest a splotchy pink mess.
That time in the truck, lewd as it was, is one of my most fond memories. One of my most treasured memories with Milo.
It was when I felt my most connected with him, connected in every sense of the word.
Now I’m blushing.
The restaurant is nice, dark, secluded, really private for two closeted queer men to go on a date and hopefully not be recognized. I understand we’re two incredible hockey players in the dead center of the land of hockey, but a man can dream.
We’re seated in the very back of the restaurant. The lighting is dim, and the tables are well spaced. Maybe this will be a smooth evening. I reach across the table and grab Milo’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles at me.
“I hope you two are having a... Oh! It’s you!” a voice I don’t recognize exclaims, albeit, somewhat quietly. I groan and drop my face into my hands with a thud.
“Oh, Jamie, hi.” Milo’s voice is low.
My head springs up, and I glare at the man standing by our table. Eyes narrowed into angry slits, lips downturned, I turn my frustration on Jamie.
“What are you doing here? Don’t you work at McFolley’s?” I ask, a little venom in my voice.
“Shockingly, not all of us are on multi-million-dollar hockey contracts and can just afford to live in such a big city without stretching things a little thin.” Jamie raises a brow at me and cocks his hip.
Oh.
Okay. Well, that is fair.
I’m so embarrassed by my outburst that I don’t recognize that he’s clocked us.
“I didn’t realize you were spoken for. I wouldn’t have flirted so much.” Jamie is looking at Milo, a sly smile on those plush lips.
Milo’s blushing. I’m blushing. The only one not blushing is Jamie. Why would he be embarrassed? He’s clearly secure in his sexuality.
I mean…
I am too. I just…
Fuck, it shouldn’t be this hard to be with the man I love. To take him out to dinner, to show him how much I appreciate him. This should be easy.
My hands clench by my side, and I suddenly feel simultaneously so embarrassed and so envious. Embarrassed for my outburst, and envious that Jamie is able to be exactly who he is without hesitation.
Jamie smiles at me and winks. I flinch. Not for any dumb homophobic reason, just because I feel like I can’t have what he has. But I want it.
Jamie takes our drink orders, sparkling water for me because I desperately need a drink and the bubbles ease my anxiety, and walks off to grab them for us. Milo looks at me with a cocked head and an even more cocked brow.
“I don’t know what that was,” I lie, then I shake my head. “No, I know exactly what that was. That was jealousy rearing its ugly head again. All I could think about was how he flirted with you at the bar, and my jealousy just shot through the roof.”
Milo is nodding slowly as I speak, letting me get out all the words I have to say. He’s so good like that, such an excellent listener.
“I think you should consider apologizing to Jamie,” he says finally, and I flush harder, because he’s right.
I know he’s right. All Jamie did was see an assumedly single and incredibly sexy man and act.
Did he know that I had called metaphorical dibs?
No. So can I really hold that against him? Again, no.
Jamie comes back with our waters. He’s all smiles and charm and ease, like I wasn’t just an ass to him. He sets them down in front of us and grabs his notepad from his little apron, pulling out a pen and staring at us expectantly.
“Well, what can I getcha?” His voice is bubbly and sweet and every bit the professional who was not just seethed at.
I unclench my fists and place them on the table, palms tilted up in a kind of surrender.
“I’m sorry I came for your neck there.” My hand flies up to rub the back of my neck.
“Earlier, you know. And at McFolley’s.” I meet his eyes and square my shoulders.
“I was jealous. I still kind of am, if I’m going to be honest.” My hands clasp together and I wring them nervously.
“Jealous of you flirting with Milo, obviously, but I think I’m also jealous of you getting to be out.
” I let out a sigh, glad to have finally said it.
Milo rubs my knee under the table, smiling his secret smile.
Jamie smiles at me as well, placing a friendly hand on my shoulder.
“I get it. Being in the closet fucking sucks. I will tell you, though, for me, the closet door was glass, so it made coming out a lot more insistent.” He pats my shoulder and smiles, kind of a sad smile.
“Look, I’ll forgive you, but only if you give me the number of one of your other teammates, preferably someone else who’s actually queer,” he says with a jaunty wink. “Now, seriously, what can I get you?”
“Seriously, we haven’t even looked at the menu.” Milo laughs, and I smile at him.
When Jamie walks away, I take Milo’s hand from across the table.
“I wanted to bring you here for a few reasons,” I start, suddenly nervous again.
“One, I really just wanted to take you on a proper date. I’ve fucked you every which way in every room of the house, but we haven’t gone out together.
We haven’t fought over the bill, but I’ve licked your asshole.
” Milo is blushing furiously and shaking his head, his lips pursed so I know he’s fighting a smile.
“And two,” I continue, “I wanted to ask you something.” I take a deep breath, and Milo gasps.
“You’re not about to do anything stupid, are you?”
“Define stupid?” I respond, taking a sip of my water.
“Like marriage kind of stupid.” He balks, and I spit water all over the table. Coughing and spluttering, I knock the air back into my lungs and gulp a few deep breaths. When I finally get my breathing back under control, I continue.
“Um, no, not that.” I smile at him brightly. “Skipping a few steps there, bud.” He laughs.
“Nothing about our relationship is normal.” He laughs, gesturing widely to our general surroundings. “Case in point…” I laugh with him.
I look at him and just smile. He looks so beautiful tonight, his hair down and wild, blond curls floating around his face.
My love for him overwhelms me.
“I want you to be my boyfriend,” I finally blurt out.
Silence.
Milo is staring at me, eyes wide.
“Beau,” he starts, his voice low. When he continues, he speaks a little slowly. Not in an insulting way, but in a confused way. “We’ve been dating for months.”
“No, I know that,” I say hurriedly, waving him off. “But no one’s asked the question, so I’m asking.”
“So you’re asking.” He smiles, a soft, sweet kind of smile.
He pulls out his wallet and places a couple of twenties on the table.
“We haven’t ordered yet.”
“If you think I’m going to be able to stay here and eat when all I can think about is how much I want you to ravage me…” He leans in like he’s telling me a secret, and fuck, he’s undressing me with his eyes.
I push myself to a stand and grab his hand, pulling him behind me. We’ve gotta go.