Chapter 13
Marc
Iwasn’t freaking out. I wasn’t. It had only been the most unexpected, hottest moment, followed by the best, mind-melting blowjob of my life.
Nope, not freaking out At. All. I glanced at my watch.
And I had exactly four more minutes to stop not freaking out.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen, which meant I needed a way to freak out without looking like I was freaking out.
I fumbled my phone out of my pocket, nearly yeeting it across the shop, which also had the unfortunate side effect of drawing my attention to where I’d watched JD stroke himself to completion like a total fucking creeper.
Fuck, that had been hot. The way he’d met and held my gaze.
How he’d sped up his strokes when he caught me watching.
How he’d damn near levitated off the chair when he came so hard he…
My gaze travelled to the wall where my brain promptly did a record scratch at finding the expected drips of cum.
Nope. I couldn’t go there right now. That had to be a problem for later. Right now my cheese was halfway off the cracker and I had to do something now. I quickly pulled up my chat thread with Alex and shot her a text.
Marc: TIT DC!
Alex: Twin in Trouble? Damn bro. Been a long time since u used that one.
Marc: I’m freaking out, but I’m not supposed to be freaking out, and I’m running out of time to not be freaking out!!!!!
Alex: WHOA
Alex: Stop typing
Alex: I mean it
Alex: STOP. I can see the bubbles doofus.
I really hated how well she knew me sometimes.
Then again, that’s also why she was almost always the first person I reached out to when I got like this.
Yet another reason being deployed had sucked big fat donkey balls.
My face flamed, and I nearly facepalmed myself with my phone.
Christ on a cracker, I needed to stop thinking about balls.
Alex: Now take a breath. What happened?
Marc: It’s complicated
I chewed on my thumbnail and darted a glance at the stairs. Ninety seconds to go.
Alex: R U sure a call wouldn’t be easier?
Marc: NO!!!!!!
Marc: Not a good time. The “cause” is still around or will be any second and I promised not to freak out but
Alex:...
I watched the bubbles dance and disappear, only to reappear and repeat the process.
Each second that passed, my anxiety ratcheted up another level.
I strained my ears for the telltale signs of JD coming back down the stairs while I waited for Alex to respond.
When my phone finally vibrated with an incoming message, I legit jumped.
Alex: I have SO many questions. But I get now’s not the time. So what has you freaking out so bad?
Marc: I just got a bj
Alex: good for U! Fail 2 C the issue
The air froze in my lungs as I heard the echo of the apartment door closing travel down the stairs.
Time was up and I was nowhere near approaching believably calm.
I started typing faster than I ever had in my life, hitting send as soon as I finished a line, hoping I could get all of it out before JD hit the landing at the bottom.
I sent the last message, locked my phone, and shoved it into my back pocket.
I’d have to check Alex’s responses later.
She’d sent a few between my frenzy of messages, but I hadn’t wanted to get sidetracked and lose what precious few seconds I had remaining to get it all out.
No doubt it’d make for an interesting read when I could get to it.
Internally bracing myself, I slapped on what I hoped was a believably casual, not at all freaking out smile and looked at JD.
“So, what are you feeling for breakfast?” I asked with what even I recognized as too much enthusiasm and cringed. Lord help me, why couldn’t I be good at casual sex?
He chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”
I wasn’t sure if the blood was trying to leave my face or flood it, but it was damn uncomfortable either way. Please don’t make a crack about already having an appetizer. Please, please, please don’t make a joke out of it.
“Honestly?” he began, looking a little sheepish and taking me entirely off guard. “As good as the catfish and all the other seafood we’ve had has been, I could really go for a burger.”
I blinked, not prepared for the non-teasing version of how this could go. It was honestly one of the many reasons I avoided even the appearance of casual hookups. “Oh.”
His eyes widened and their blue-green depths flooded with worry.
“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry. The seafood is great.
Please don’t tell Tallulah. I was just maybe hoping for more of a taste of home.
Not that a burger is really home. Please don’t be offended.
Seafood is fine, really. I didn’t mean anything by it. ”
I blinked again as I realized his cheeks were turning red and was he…
babbling? Here I thought I’d be the nervous mess.
“Whoa, hey. Take a breath.” I took a step closer and gripped his forearm as I looked up into his eyes, still cloudy with worry.
“It’s just food. I’m not offended. Also, I would never sell you out to Tallulah like that,” I added with a smile, shaking his arm for good measure.
“You hear me? Not even Barbara Jean would stoop that low.” I gave him a wink, and his lips finally cracked into a small grin.
“So, you’re really not upset?”
I scoffed and released his arm, stubbornly pretending I didn’t miss the warmth or the feel of his hair against my palm.
“Of course not. I live here now, JD. I can have seafood whenever and however often I like.” After a moment, a thought occurred to me.
“Permission to ask a potentially offensive question.”
The stiffening of his shoulders was barely perceptible, but he couldn’t hide the wariness in his expressive eyes. “Granted.”
“When you say ‘taste of home’, you’re Irish, right? Like Gallagher is an Irish name?”
He chuckled, and I watched the tension drain from his body, leaving him effortlessly at ease once more, which, for some reason, put me at ease as well. I’d talk to Alex about it later. For now, I was focusing exclusively on this. “What, the red hair and freckles didn’t give it away?”
I shrugged. “Better not to assume. But I’ll take that as a yes.
In which case, I’ve got just the place.” I started walking toward the exit and the car, rather proud of myself for managing to do so without looking toward the chair JD had occupied earlier.
When I didn’t hear him following, I looked back over my shoulder and flashed him a wide smile.
“Don’t worry, they also have some of the best burgers in town.
Plus, by the time we get there, we shouldn’t have to wait too long to get a beer. ”
He frowned and moved to fall into step. “Why would we have to wait?”
I rolled my eyes and pushed open the door for him.
“Just a bunch of puritanical bullshit. Sadly, pretty common around these parts. Can’t serve alcohol before noon.
” We slid into the car and buckled. “Unless, of course, you’re a Catholic and it’s Communion.
In which case, all bets are off,” I added with another wink, prompting one of his deep laughs.
One of these days I was going to remember to check the hours of places before driving there. I let out a miserable groan and rested my forehead against the steering wheel. “I’m the fucking worst,” I mumbled.
JD chuckled softly and squeezed the back of my neck.
No one had ever really done that to me before.
I’d seen people do it plenty of times and never really understood it.
But now he’d done it twice, and it was…strangely comforting.
“Hey, it’s not a big deal. They’re still open.
They’re just not open yet.” I groaned again, which made him laugh again, and made me feel a little better.
Which, okay, I was officially weird. No news there.
“I just… Why?” I leaned back and gestured at the building.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” He rubbed his thumb firmly along the side of my neck, and holy wow, that felt nice.
“I’m more impressed you have a bona fide Irish pub down here,” he said, shaking his head to underscore his disbelief and sadly removing his hand.
“We can always come back another day, or for dinner.”
I turned to look at McSharry’s and glimpsed my reflection in the rearview mirror.
Holy shit, am I pouting? I quickly cleared my expression.
“Okay, yeah, we can do that. Luckily, there are plenty of places to grab a bite in the French Quarter.” I put us in reverse, then drove us back toward the heart of town, calling out likely options and pointedly excluding the predominantly seafood joints.
“What about the Honey Baked Ham Company? They’ll have a little bit of everything. ”
He scrunched his nose, and I nearly choked in my effort not to snort a laugh. That had no right to be as cute as it was. “We could. Or we could go to Panini Pete’s, which has literally over a thousand more reviews and isn’t a massive chain,” he countered.
“Huh, I haven’t been there in a month of Sundays.” I flicked the blinker on, glad to have a trajectory. JD gave me a strange look. “What?”
“I’m assuming that’s a euphemism, but I swear your Southern phrases are getting stranger by the day.”
I gaped at him. “They are not.”
“Oh, they totally are. Your accent is coming out, too.”
“Excuse you, Sergeant. I do not have an accent.”
He raised an eyebrow and levelled a look at me. “Do you really want me to repeat how you just said that?”
I opened my mouth to dare him, then promptly reconsidered and hunkered lower in my seat and grumbled, “No.” I stayed “sulled up like a ‘possum” as Great Aunt Petunia would say until we pulled into the nearest parking spot to Panini Pete’s.