Page 11 of Coming Clean

A while later, the crowd broke out in applause as the play ended. I took my hand off Jeremy’s so I could join in the clapping. We rose along with the rest of the audience, giving the performers the standing ovation they deserved.

“You liked it?” Jeremy asked.

"Yes, I did.”

Jeremy squeezed my shoulder. “I’m so glad.”

Jeremy had genuinely been invested in me having a good evening. I doubted he understood how much that meant. I’d never had another man care that much.

“Good, wasn’t it?” Sabrina asked, having to shout over the now buzzing crowd.

“Yes.” I hadn’t minded admitting it to Jeremy, but Sabrina would gloat for days.

“Aren’t you glad you came?” she asked.

I answered honestly. “I am.” For more reasons than I was going to admit to Sabrina.

As we drove home, I felt overly confined.

My truck wasn’t small, but with Jeremy in the passenger seat, the space seemed confining.

Jeremy was everywhere: his scent, the warmth of his smile, the need I had for him.

Had the cabin suddenly become airtight? I wasn't sure there was enough oxygen left to survive the drive home.

We chatted about the play. I asked about a few parts I hadn’t understood—how did anyone keep up with all those characters?

At least I was no longer afraid Jeremy would laugh at me for being ignorant.

But once I’d run out of questions, Jeremy grew quiet.

I had no idea what to say that wouldn’t lead me somewhere I wasn’t ready to go.

Not ready? So now you’re admitting you might be ready in the future?

I don’t know. Maybe.

Jeremy yawned and dropped his head back against the seat.

“Tired?” I asked.

“Yes. I hate to ruin the image of poets shivering in their garrets working by candlelight into the wee hours, but I’m usually asleep by this time.”

“So am I,” I admitted. “Too many years of starting the day at five or earlier, and too much appreciation for the chance at a full night’s sleep. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the sensation that I have to sleep when I can.”

“That sounds… What can I say that’s not trite?”

“Caring enough not to dismiss my experience with a cliché is enough,” I said. “You don’t have to say anything else.”

“I might not agree with all the wars we’ve fought, but I have the utmost respect for the men who fight them. I can’t begin to imagine what you saw. I would never dismiss how difficult it must have been.”

Jeremy had said he expected me to judge him, that he was nervous around military types because he was gay, but I had my stereotypes too.

I’d expected Jeremy to scorn military service, to think those who served their country were stupid for signing up and defending a nation that screwed up again and again.

Sure, the country had its problems, including not appreciating veterans like it should, but what country didn’t?

I pulled into Jeremy’s driveway and put the truck in park. The interior was dim, but there was enough light coming from the lamp at the edge of the driveway that I could see the outline of Jeremy’s face. “Thank you. For saying that and for tonight. I really had a good time.”

“Me too,” Jeremy said. I saw the gleam of his teeth as he smiled.

His hair had fallen over his forehead, and I wanted to brush it back, but that wasn’t something a straight guy would do.

A straight guy probably also wouldn’t have covered Jeremy’s hand with his own, but that could be dismissed by the high tension of the play.

High tension, my ass. How about high lust?

Shut up.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and started to pull Jeremy’s hoodie over my head. I’d been thankful for it when the temperature plummeted soon after the sun went down.

Jeremy laid a hand on my arm, stopping me. “Don’t worry about it now. You can bring it back to me next week. I’d hate for you to be cold on the drive home.”

“Thanks.” I thought of all the times I’d been freezing in the desert at night and then dripping with sweat in the scorching daytime heat.

The thought of worrying about being cold driving home on a chilly summer night in the mountains should be laughable, but there was no way I was giving back the sweatshirt unless I had to. It still smelled like Jeremy.

You’re going to sleep with it, aren’t you? Bury your face in it and jerk off thinking of Jeremy, thinking of what you could be doing if you were brave enough to pursue him.

I hated how right that sarcastic voice in my head was.

“Okay. I guess I’ll see you next week then.” I wanted to ask to see Jeremy the next day.

"Yes, that sounds good.”

What else could I say? I’d be seeing Jeremy because I was coming to clean his house, not for a date. This night was a fluke. “Sleep well.”

Jeremy gave me a look. That wasn’t really longing in his eyes, was it? I was imagining things in the dark.

“You too,” Jeremy said as he opened his door and stepped out of the truck.

“You… uh… want me to walk you up?” Fucking hell! Could I sound like more of an idiot? Jeremy wasn’t a girl, and this wasn’t 1958, even if his sweater did come from that year.

Jeremy leaned into the truck, seeming to study me. Checking for signs of sanity? I cursed the darkness, wanting to read Jeremy’s expression.

“The place does get a bit spooky sometimes,” Jeremy said. “But I doubt there’s anything to worry about. Of course, if it were haunted, that would be perfect. A writer living in an old, haunted house. What inspiration!”

“US Marines don’t receive training for supernatural encounters, sir. There’s another division for that, but if I told you about them, I’d have to kill you.” I couldn’t hold back my laugh.

Jeremy’s laugh echoed in the small space. “No chance I can get it out of you?” he asked.

Jeremy could get just about anything out of me with hardly any effort at all, but I played along, shaking my head. “My lips are sealed.” Thank God Jeremy hadn’t been spooked by my ridiculous suggestion.

“Too bad.”

It was, or rather it was bad that my lips weren’t sealed around Jeremy’s cock.

What the hell? Where had that thought come from?

I’d never sucked a guy off before. I’d fantasized about taking a man’s thick, firm flesh in my mouth, making my partner release the desperate sounds I often bit back during a blow job.

I’d thought about being the guy on his knees with another man’s hands clutched in his hair, but I was too much of a coward to try it.

You wouldn’t be with Jeremy, though, would you?

I didn’t think I would. I trusted Jeremy.

“I’ll see you soon.” Jeremy closed the passenger door and started toward his porch.

“Good night,” I called through the open window.

“Night.” Jeremy waved, then disappeared inside.

Follow him.

I shook my head. I’d love to. Even if we didn’t fuck each other, I could listen to Jeremy recite Shakespeare all night.

An image flashed into my head of Jeremy spread out in bed, quoting Shakespeare as I sucked him.

Jesus, the things I found hot since I’d met Jeremy: crazy socks, cardigans, Shakespeare. What would be next?

I shouldn’t even think about it. My cock was already fully hard, pressing against my fly, begging for some relief. Relief that wasn’t going to come from Jeremy’s soft hands, his plump lips, or his ass. I sighed and put the truck in gear. For now, my own hand would have to be enough.