Page 9

EIGHT

“Where are you off to?”

Jason froze in the foyer as he was packing his various syrups into a bag. How did he explain to his dad that he was driving into Burlington to meet up with Bellamy for what he’d termed post-game drinks —which Jason suspected was his version of Netflix and chill?

He must’ve hesitated too long because his dad grimaced. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Ah . . .” Jason coughed. “Probably not.”

“You coming back tonight?”

“No, but I’ll be back early tomorrow, in plenty of time for the start of the festival.”

“Sounds good. Oh hey, I spoke with Ryland today.”

Jason squirmed, the sound of his brother’s name making him uncomfortable in a way it never had before. That was what he got for kissing the guy Ryland had been feuding with for a decade. “Oh yeah?”

“We’ll get to watch from the friends-and-family suite when his team’s in town to play the Trailblazers.”

“Nice.”

Jason would never admit it, but he didn’t love watching from the friends-and-family suite. It was a lush suite, sure, with leather seats, its own bathroom, a buffet of food, and an endless supply of drinks. But Jason would rather have a regular seat so that he was in the thick of things, surrounded by other fans and that incongruous smell of ice and popcorn.

Nevertheless, he was looking forward to seeing Ryland for the first time since his bye week. He missed his brother, despite everything he’d learned about him lately.

In Jason’s experience, nobody was any one thing, and he wasn’t any different. The person he was with his parents wasn’t the same person he was with his siblings or his colleagues or his professors or his friends or his classmates. People had layers, and so too did Ryland. Who he was with his family wasn’t who he was with his teammates, and Jason suspected he was someone entirely different with Bellamy.

It didn’t make Jason love him any less. He appreciated Ryland’s nuances, although he didn’t love how Ryland had treated Bellamy for the last few years.

Jason just wasn’t sure what—if anything—he should do about it.

He couldn’t deny the knot of guilt that threatened to eat away at his stomach. He probably shouldn’t have started anything with Bellamy—Jason could already imagine the steam that would come out of Ryland’s ears when he found out—but there was something there Jason wanted to explore, and he wasn’t going to let Ryland’s future feelings dictate who he dated.

But he still felt guilty about it. And for keeping it a secret too.

Setting all of that aside for now, he picked up his backpack and the bag of syrups, the jars clanking gently.

“Drive safe,” Dad said. “Watch for deer.”

“I always do. See you tomorrow.”

One of these days, he’d move out of his parents’ house so he wouldn’t feel squicky leaving the house for a booty call. While he was paying for grad school definitely wasn’t that day though.

The drive to Burlington—with a quick stop at Red’s Restaurant to pick up takeout—was uneventful, and he arrived as the Trailblazers game was ending, which he knew because he’d been listening to it on the radio and because he got caught in a traffic snarl outside the arena as people were leaving. He was running behind his own timetable when he arrived at Bellamy’s, not that it mattered—a text from Bellamy let him know that he was about twenty minutes away.

Bellamy:

I left a key by the front door, next to the bushes. Let yourself in if you get there before me.

Jason reread the text and swallowed hard. Well. Leaving a key out made things feel oddly official.

Christ, what was he doing here? He was risking a lot, starting things with Bellamy. When—if—Ryland found out... If he wasn’t okay with it...

It would cause a rift between them they’d possibly never recover from.

Jason was going to risk his relationship with his brother for a guy?

A new message came through as he was sitting in his car in Bellamy’s driveway.

Bellamy:

Stuck at a light that only lets three cars through when it goes green *crying emoji*

Bellamy:

Also, this made me think of you.

His next message was a meme—a photo of grumpy cat, all slit-eyed and looking... well, grumpy... with the words That feeling when they don’t serve real maple syrup written above the cat’s face.

Jason snorted a laugh. Ugh. Why did Bellamy have to be so cute with his memes and his dragon scarf and his big blue eyes?

Fuck it. He got out of the car.

Of course, the key proved trickier to find than Bellamy had let on. There were two squares of grass on either side of his front door, with bushes planted along the house on each side. Jason used his phone flashlight and eventually found it on the right of the door, camouflaged under a droopy, leafless bush.

The outside of the condo unit wasn’t much to look at, but the inside was another matter entirely. Open-concept ground floor, gleaming hardwood, high ceilings, stainless steel appliances. The back door would no doubt provide spectacular views of Lake Champlain during the day; at night, all Jason could see was a pit of darkness. If he squinted hard enough, he could just make out the outline of the Adirondacks.

His phone vibrated in his hand.

Bellamy:

Almost there. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.

Jason:

Stop texting and driving.

He took the syrups and the takeout into the kitchen, placing the bags on the island, then looked around. There wasn’t much on this floor that spoke to Bellamy’s personality. From what Bellamy had said, the organization had set him up here as a temporary measure until he found a place of his own. It was nice but generic. Off-white walls, contemporary artwork, basic yet comfortable furniture, mini dragon figurines on the kitchen windowsill.

Wha— Hold up.

He stepped closer to inspect them. Some were made of rubber, others of clay, pewter, ceramic, or resin. A few were very Game of Thrones -like, but most were cutesy and cartoony, ranging in color from black to gold to rainbow and everything in between. Jason’s favorite was a little iridescent green dragon with blue wings and purple claws sitting on a teacup.

Charmed as hell, Jason gave it a little bop on the head. Had Bellamy bought these himself or had they been gifts from his grandmother, like the scarf?

The front door opened, closing again a moment later. “Jase?”

Jason poked his head out of the kitchen. The hello died on his tongue as Bellamy turned around once he’d locked the door and Jason took in all six-feet, bespoke-suited, and floppy-haired inch of him.

Suit porn? Meet Bellamy Jordan.

The suit was royal blue, tailored to fit every perfect dip and curve of Bellamy’s body, from the straight-legged pants to the enticingly unbuttoned double-breasted blazer. He’d paired it with a shirt in the palest of blues and a steel-gray tie. The pants were so tight that Jason could see the outline of Bellamy’s phone in his front pocket.

And the outline of something else too.

“Hey,” Bellamy said when he spotted him, his smile showing off gleaming white teeth. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

Jason was trying to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth when Bellamy continued as he toed off his shiny loafers. “What’s that smell?”

“Food,” Jason managed to croak. He cleared his throat. “Uh... you mentioned you didn’t have much since the Trailblazers are leaving for a road trip tomorrow. So I brought takeout from Red’s. I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry or not, but?—”

“I could eat,” Bellamy said. “What’d you bring?” He swept into the kitchen, pausing long enough to place a tiny kiss to the corner of Jason’s mouth.

Why did that make his stomach tremble and his heart skip a beat? “Just a few appetizers,” he managed. “And a couple slices of their maple custard pie.”

“Yeah?” Bellamy peered into the takeout bag on the island. “I was eyeing it on the menu when we were there.”

“I noticed.” Jason came around him, ghosting his fingers over Bellamy’s hip, his lower back, the opposite hip, until he settled back against the island next to him while staying in Bellamy’s personal space bubble. “Sorry about the game.”

“Why?” Bellamy asked, eyes half-glazed, maple pie forgotten.

Jason suppressed a smile. Looked like he affected Bellamy the same way Bellamy affected him. “Because you lost.”

“Did we?” Bellamy seemed to catch himself because he shook his head, perhaps reorienting his thoughts. “Yes. Of course. We lost. Ah well.” His smile was a touch distracted. “We can’t win them all, more’s the pity.”

Jason hummed an acknowledgment. He edged behind Bellamy again, making sure his front pressed against Bellamy’s back as he did so, his hands cupping Bellamy’s hips. His temperature spiked when Bellamy sucked in a sharp breath.

“What do you want to eat first?” Jason made a show of looking into the takeout bag over Bellamy’s shoulder. “I’ve got three different apps in addition to the pie.”

Bellamy whirled around. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Why?” Jason gave Bellamy an up-and-down glance, pausing on his pelvis, where things were beginning to happen behind those very tight pants. “Got something else in mind?”

Bellamy switched their positions, caging Jason between the island and his hard body. “Somebody’s a tease.”

“It’s not teasing if I intend to put out.”

“Christ.” Letting out a little laugh, Bellamy nibbled at Jason’s neck. “I didn’t invite you here for this.”

Groaning, Jason let his head fall back. “Liar.”

“It’s true,” Bellamy muttered against his skin. “I didn’t want to assume and be all, Hey, I know we kissed for the first time only yesterday, but do you want to come over so we can suck each other off? ”

The mental image that conjured had Jason’s blood heating. “Oh no? And what would you say instead?”

Bellamy lifted his head and grinned at him. “I’d say, Come over for post-game drinks .”

Jason was laughing when their lips met. What started as teasing kisses quickly turned addictive. Lips clung, hands gripped hair and shoulders and ass cheeks in turn, and nails bit into skin. Hips thrust, hard cock against hard cock, and already Jason felt like he was going to burst apart.

Bellamy’s blazer joined Jason’s hoodie on the floor. Bellamy’s tie proved a pain in the ass to take off, and Jason almost crowed in victory when he finally managed it, only to be thwarted by Bellamy’s shirt.

“Why are there so many goddamn buttons ?”

Bellamy chuckled and undid his own shirt. “You say that like the buttons have personally offended you.”

“They’re so tiny . Who makes buttons that small?”

Bellamy was still laughing when he shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it aside, and the sound of his laughter was like the maple syrup drizzled over an ice cream sundae.

Sweet and delicious.

So sweet and delicious that one couldn’t help wanting more.

And more.

And more.

There was something delightfully boyish about Bellamy’s laughter that was endearing as hell. It made Jason want to stick his nose in Bellamy’s neck and hug him close while watching a movie on the couch.

Then Bellamy shucked his pants and boxers in one easy movement, and Jason mentally revised that thought.

There was nothing boyish about him.

Bellamy was everything Jason had ever wanted. From his wide shoulders to the defined muscles of his abdomen to his thighs—Jesus Christ, his thighs were massive —to the tiny hairs on his toes.

And then there was his erection, jutting out proudly like the most tempting of beacons.

Jason needed to touch him. Now. “Do all hockey players look like you?”

He’d meant it as a compliment, but Bellamy pursed his lips, obviously thinking about it.

Why did Jason find that so cute?

Cursing under his breath, he walked Bellamy backward until he hit the counter and kissed him until neither of them could think straight. The rest of Jason’s clothes came off as swiftly as Bellamy’s had. Then they kissed their way to the couch, stumbling as they went.

There was a tiny part of Jason’s inner demons that balked at being pushed down onto the couch—those demons reminded him that this was Bellamy Jordan. At any moment, he could decide he would use Jason to get to Ryland and damn the consequences.

But he’d already decided that he was going to give Bellamy the benefit of the doubt and trust him, so he told his demons to fuck off and by all means— let the door hit you in the ass on the way out .

“Hey,” Bellamy murmured. “Where’d you go?”

Jason gazed up at him and wrapped a leg around his hips. “Trust me. I’m right here. What do you think the chances are of our ass prints being stamped into this couch once we’re done?”

Bellamy’s chuckle was more of a huff of breath. “Gotta love leather.” But when he moved down Jason’s body and the couch let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a fart, they fell into helpless giggles. “Remind me next time this needs to happen in a bed,” Bellamy said, laughter in his voice as he began kissing his way down Jason’s body.

Jason’s giggles fell away, replaced by sweet heat that zig-zagged up his spine and right back down again when Bellamy sucked him into his mouth.

Swearing, he gripped the couch cushion in one hand and Bellamy’s hair in the other and let the sensations take him away.

Later, they sat on the floor in the living room on a throw Bellamy had pulled off the back of the couch. The gas fireplace was on, the flames dancing merrily and casting shadows over Bellamy’s face that made him look like he belonged in a painting.

He was also naked but for a pair of dark blue boxer briefs, and although Jason had just worshipped his body before making him blow his mind—and his load—he couldn’t stop touching him whenever he got the chance. Bellamy sat with his back against the end of the coffee table, long legs stretched out; Jason had settled next to him but facing him, legs crossed under him so his left knee nudged against Bellamy’s hip.

They’d heated up and consumed the appetizers Jason had brought, and the discarded containers were piled on the coffee table. They’d moved on to the maple custard pie, and as he ate, Bellamy made appreciative noises that made Jason want to lay him flat again.

“It’s been years since I’ve had maple pie,” Bellamy said, scooping a large bite onto his fork. “How does this one compare to the maple pie at the other diner in Maplewood? Sparky’s Diner, right?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes on him. “Seriously? You’re telling me you’ve never eaten there?”

“I told you—most people in town are loyal to one or the other.”

“And you’ve never, not once, eaten at Sparky’s?”

“Not once,” Jason confirmed. “Although I have, on occasion, ordered takeout and had one of my Sparky’s-loyal friends pick it up.” Jason jabbed his fork in Bellamy’s direction when Bellamy crowed. “If you tell anybody that, I’m never bringing you maple pie ever again.”

Bellamy drew an X over his heart with his fork. “They won’t hear it from me. And speaking of Maplewood... did you ever want to live anyplace else?”

“No. Maplewood’s always been home. It’s where I fell in love with nature, where I learned to ride a bike, where I’d go sledding with my friends, where Ryland, Brie, and I would make s’mores in the fire pit out back. My friends are there, my family’s there.” Jason scraped up the last bit of maple pie off his plate, knowing he was lucky to have such an amazing support system. In a lot of small towns, teenagers left for college or for work or to see the big wide world—and they never came back. “When Ryland comes home for the summer, we pitch a tent in the backyard and squeeze in there with Brie and Callie and Tasha—those are my nieces. You should’ve seen us last year.” He chuckled, remembering. “A centipede crawled over Brie’s sleeping bag. She screamed like she was being murdered, and we all burst out of the tent doing the get-it-off-me dance. We were too chickenshit to go back in, so we brought the second tent up from the basement, pitched it a few feet away, and slept in there.”

“You didn’t go in and look for the centipede?” Bellamy asked. “I thought you liked nature.”

“I draw the line at sharing a bed with creepy crawlies. And you?” He poked Bellamy in the leg with his toe. “You’ve lived a whole bunch of places. Do you have a favorite?”

Bellamy made a little humming sound and sucked on the tines of his fork. “I haven’t lived here long, but I like what I’ve seen so far of Burlington. The barista at my favorite coffee shop in the Church Street Marketplace already knows my coffee order, and the older couple who lives in the green bungalow down the street always wave at me when I jog by, no matter what time of day it is. I liked Seattle too. The two cities are kind of similar, actually, now that I’m thinking about it—great culture, great waterfront views, and access to the mountains.”

“Great food scenes,” Jason added, chuckling when Bellamy’s expression turned skeptical.

“Great? Here?”

“If you don’t think we have a great food scene, you haven’t been eating in the right restaurants.”

“I’ve hardly eaten in any restaurants,” Bellamy said. “Haven’t had the chance to. Just Red’s Restaurant. And that wasn’t exactly?—”

“If you knock Red’s, I’m throwing this fork at you.”

Bellamy’s low laughter made Jason shiver.

Grabbing their empty pie containers—they hadn’t bothered with plates—Jason piled them on top of the empty appetizer boxes and brought them all into the kitchen. He grabbed his bag of syrups on the way back to the living room, his gaze snagging momentarily on the figurines on the windowsill.

“Tell me about the dragons,” he said as he sat back down.

“The ones on the scarf? I told you, my gran?—”

“No, not the scarf. The ones in the kitchen over there.”

“Oh, they’re just...” Bellamy waved a hand, his ears turning red. “Trinkets I’ve picked up over the years.”

He was blushing . God. “You love dragons, don’t you?”

“Yes, okay?” Reservations forgotten, Bellamy sat forward, gesturing wildly. “They’re fierce, but they’re also cute. Right? Like, grrr .” He raked a hand through the air, as though his fingers had claws. “But also they have hoards . Piles of stuff they don’t want anyone to touch, and how cute is that?”

Jason had to kiss him. Had to. So he leaned forward and pressed a quick, hard kiss to Bellamy’s mouth. “ You’re cute.”

“Um . . .”

“So where did this love of dragons come from?”

“Ah...” Bellamy’s cheeks turned delightfully pink. “I had a stuffed dragon as a kid. A fluffy mint-green thing with dark green ears. His name was Doodle. Don’t ask me why. I haven’t seen him in years. I think I lost him during one of the many times I was being shuffled between my parents.”

He’d been shuffled between his parents? Jesus.

The way he said it, like it was no big deal... Sadness echoed through Jason’s chest, and he opened his mouth to ask more about it, but Bellamy continued.

“When I went to live with my grandparents, they got me a figurine as a welcome-home gift of sorts. I think they assumed I was too old for stuffed animals. And then I kept getting figurines for birthdays. Still do.” Bellamy placed a hand on Jason’s knee, almost absentmindedly, rubbing his thumb back and forth. “You know when you’re into something as a kid and you keep receiving gifts of that something until you’re, like, twenty-five?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, placing his hand atop Bellamy’s and linking their fingers. “For Brie it was dolphins. She has a hundred stuffed dolphins she kept for her kids, but they couldn’t care less about them.”

“And what about you?”

Jason blinked. “What about me?”

“You talk about your siblings a lot?—”

Christ. Did he?

“—but I want to know about you. What was your thing?”

“Oh. Well, uh...” He scratched his cheek. “Dig kits. You know where you dig for fossils or gemstones or shark teeth?”

“Aw. You’re a closet nerd.”

“That’s never been a secret. Also, pot? Kettle.” He gestured at the figurines.

Bellamy’s grin was all teeth. “Fair enough. So what’d you bring?” He nodded at Jason’s bag.

“Syrups from non-sugar maples,” Jason said, tugging the bag closer. “Thought we could do a taste testing. You in?”

“Ooh.” Bellamy rubbed his hands together. “Whatcha got?”

“A few of the syrups I made at the sugar shack at UNH last year.” Jason unbagged four jars and pulled out a small baggie of the taste testing sticks they used for maple syrup sampling at the farm. “I’ve got birch, beech, hickory, and walnut syrups. What do you want to try first?”

“Surprise me.”

Turned out Bellamy wasn’t a fan of the hickory syrup—“Tastes smoky. Like I’ve been sitting around a campfire all day. Not sure I like it.”—but he liked the walnut syrup, probably because the taste was pretty similar to maple syrup but with a slightly nutty flavor.

The beech and birch syrups? He took sample after sample, using up most of Jason’s baggie of tasting sticks so he didn’t double dip like a certain older sister.

“I can see why you’re thinking of selling these at markets or directly to restaurants,” Bellamy said. “You can do a lot with them.” He sucked yet another stick clean, lips flattening over the thin wood, cheeks hollowing.

Jason choked on his own spit.

“You okay?”

Coughing, Jason gave Bellamy a thumbs-up, belatedly noticing the gleam in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing, the little shit.

“Like I was saying,” Bellamy went on when Jason’s coughing subsided. “You can do a lot with these. Use it as a glaze for meat or salmon, make salad dressings and sauces, drizzle it on ice cream or yogurt. Might be able to use it in cocktails too. I can help you promote it, if you ever decide to start selling these.”

“You... what?” Jason croaked, his voice rough from the coughing.

“I can film myself using them in a recipe and post about it.”

“You cook? There are plenty of food photos on your Insta, but I didn’t realize you actually cooked those meals. Thought you ordered takeout.”

Bellamy raised both eyebrows. “Two things.” He held up two fingers. “First—you’ve gone through my Instagram?”

Jason whacked him gently on the knee. “Don’t mock me.”

“I would never. And second—of course I cooked those meals.”

“How is anyone supposed to know that? You don’t add a caption. Just #chickenparm and #cheeseycauliflowerbake or whatever.”

“Yeah, okay, good point,” Bellamy said. “To answer your question, yes, I cook. Had to teach myself when I moved out of my grandparents’ place. I’m pretty good too.”

Now here was another side to Bellamy that Jason hadn’t expected, and it was oddly sweet. Stretching out on the throw, Jason propped his head in his hand. “Say I was coming over for dinner. What would you cook for me?”

“You should come over for dinner.” Bellamy gestured with the stick. “Next weekend.”

“You won’t be back from your road trip by then.”

Frowning, Bellamy cocked his head, looking like a curious golden retriever. “No? When are we back then?” He looked around, presumably for his phone so he could check his schedule.

“Next Wednesday,” Jason told him.

“How do you know that?”

“You mentioned it.”

He hadn’t. Jason had looked up his away games and made a guess on the Trailblazers’ return date based on what he knew of Ryland’s road trips.

“Did I?” Bellamy’s smile turned cheeky. “I don’t think I did.”

“You must’ve,” Jason insisted. Desire lit his skin on fire when Bellamy tossed the stick aside and crawled toward him. He looked like a predator, all sleek muscles and tousled hair and purposefully slow movements.

“Must I have?” Still with that teasing, insolent grin that was crumbling all of Jason’s defenses. “My memory must be failing me,” he murmured, nibbling Jason’s tattoo. “When exactly must I have mentioned it?”

“Oh, you know,” Jason said weakly, falling onto his back. He spread his legs, and Bellamy settled between them, fitting perfectly—like they’d done this a hundred times instead of only one. “That time.”

“That time called never?” Bellamy gazed down at him with a face full of laughter. “Admit it—you googled the team’s schedule.”

Jason worked his mouth for a moment before saying, “I... may have.”

“Admit it,” Bellamy repeated. He brushed a whisper of a kiss over Jason’s mouth. “You’re going to miss me.”

“I might. A little.”

Bellamy’s expression softened. The way he looked at Jason—a little bit awed, a little bit confused, and a lot touched—made him look like he’d been gifted a present he didn’t know what to do with.

Jason’s heart melted, and he committed that expression to memory...

Because he wanted to see it again. Wanted to make it appear again and again and again. Wanted Bellamy to look at him like that always.

Surging upward, Jason caught his lips in a kiss, and there wasn’t much talking for a long while after that.