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jt

I t’s Friday night and I am in my happy place as I bring the basketball down the court at the end of the fourth quarter. Trey and I are absolutely on fire tonight, hitting all our shots and dominating the scoreboard. The Dukes are enjoying a comfortable lead. It feels like everyone has lifted tonight too as I pass the ball to Marco who sets up an easy jump shot for Kye.

We’re the away team tonight but we’re only a couple of towns over so there’s still a few family and friends sitting in the stands. Chanel and her group of friends are amongst them, but I have been avoiding her all week.

I’m buzzing and I know it’s not just basketball that is making me feel this way. My head is full of Quinn, and even though he is not in the stands, he still makes me want to perform better. I still can’t believe he actually gave me driving lessons last night. My stomach squeezes again as I remember the way it felt having his hands over mine on the steering wheel.

It bothers me how out of each other’s orbit we are. Our science class project is literally the only thing we have that connects us. Quinn spends his weekends with his friends, which inevitably includes Jace, while I spend mine with my basketball crew. Our circles do not crossover in any other way, and it is something that plays on my mind.

At the same time, there is something kind of nice about the fact that there’s just Quinn and me in our own separate space, our own private bubble. I know it’s not just the science project that is bringing us together anymore either. I would like to think we are friends no w— even though I’m hyperaware I don’t think about my other friends the way I think about Quinn. I certainly don’t need those five extra minutes in the shower each morning for any of my mates.

Trey suddenly makes a gorgeous intercept and the ball gets knocked into my hands. I am on a fast break, the defence trailing behind me as I slot in an easy layup, and we add two more points to our buffer. The siren trills and the game is over, another win for the Dukes.

We don’t over celebrate because we’re not the type of team who rub big wins into smaller clubs like tonight’s opposition, but Trey still fist bumps me as we walk over to our bench. Trey and I spent nearly the whole game on court so I am hot and sweaty as Coach congratulates our performance.

“After party at Insanity,” Vince shouts in our ears on our way to the showers.

“Yes, bro,” Trey enthuses. I guess that means I’ll be going to Insanity too seeing as Trey is my lift home. I’ve only been to Insanity once before and it was way too loud and full on for me, but the guys seem to love it. The club is down by the recently redeveloped South Wharf which used to be an industrial shipping dockyard but is now filled with clubs and restaurants and shops. I concede the place is pretty cool.

The locker room here is small and stuffy, and I jump under the water, feeling instantly better as my muscles loosen and the sweat washes down the drain. I’m vaguely conscious of the naked bodies beside me but it’s the unwritten law of the locker room that you never look. I’m the last one to turn off the taps and I wrap my towel around me as I find my bag on the benches. I’m glad I bought a pair of jeans with me as I pull them on along with a black polo top.

Trey is waiting for me as I tie the laces of my Nikes, and we head outside to the carpark. We drop Trey’s car off at his house on the way and take an Uber down to South Wharf. Everyone is here by the time we arrive, and it is just as loud and insane as I remember. I find myself sticking to my cousin’s side who is always so much more at ease in these environs than I will ever be.

Trey pulls me straight to the bar and orders us two vodka sodas. The guys have commandeered a booth, and we squeeze in beside them with our drinks. I’m aware of Chanel out on the dance floor already, her eyes on me. I actually don’t mind dancing even though I hardly ever get the opportunity but for some reason I feel myself sticking to the safety of the booth tonight.

But then Millie arrives and squeezes in beside me, her tiny silver dress barely containing her ample boobs. I jostle around so that she can sit next to Trey and it’s only a minute later I cop an elbow to my ribs as Trey and Millie start making out right there in front of everyone. My safety blanket has suddenly been ripped away from me and I feel a hum of anxiety buzzing just under the surface before Vince appears at my side.

“Come on, I’ll get you another drink,” he offers.

“I was only planning on having the one,” I tell him, but I follow anyway, not really wanting another elbow to the ribs or a sideshow of boobs.

“My shout,” Vince winks back. He probably assumes it is a funding problem, and although money is totally relevant, it is not my only consideration. But a minute later I’m standing back at the bar, green coloured drink in hand and Vince grinning expectantly at me. “Bottoms up.”

“Gee that’s strong,” I splutter as I take a sip. “What is it?”

“It’s a green Russian. You’ll love it,” he grins. “Trust me.”

They sound like famous last words if ever I’ve heard them, but I knock back my drink anyway, the buzz going straight to my head. And not in the good way.

Next thing I know, I’m out on the dance floor, stray hands on my hips which I’m pretty sure belong to Chanel or maybe one of her friends, my head hazy and light. The DJ is killing it tonight, mixing decades of hits into an electric atmosphere. I tip my head back and dance along to Abba as the music takes control.

I don’t know how long I’m out there for but I suddenly feel myself stumble and I don’t know how to get back up. Black spots flash behind my eyes and my vision turns hazy.

Trey is suddenly there, and I feel so relieved I hardly have the words to express. He hauls me to my feet, strong arms helping me stand.

“Easy there, cuz,” he says in my ear. “Let’s get you out of here.” I try to agree with him but my head is too fuzzy, so I let him lead me off the dance floor.

Suddenly, I feel the welcome hit of cool, crisp air, laced with the salty brine from the wharf as we step outside

“What happened, bro?” Trey is asking as he helps me sit on the curb, my feet unreliable.

“I don’t know.”

“How much did you drink?” he presses, pushing my hair back from my forehead and peering into my glassy eyes.

“I just had the two,” I promise him. I am almost certain this is the truth.

“Two? You look like you drunk a whole bottle of vodka,” Trey murmurs. “What else did you drink?”

“Um, Vince got me a Russian something.”

“Dammit. Fucking Vince,” Trey seethes. “That still doesn’t explain … oh hang on. Shit. Didn’t you take those heavy-duty hay fever tablets before the game?”

“Um, yes?” I reply, sifting through my hazy memory.

“JT! You can’t take those tablets and drink a green Russian,” Trey admonishes. “Oh man. I’m going to be in deep shit for this.”

I tend to agree with that sentiment but before I can spiral any further, a pair of nice leather trainers steps in front of me and I suddenly hear the sound of his voice. And it is honestly the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.

“JT? Are you okay?”

“Quinn?” I reply, blinking twice to make sure it really is him in front of me, crouching down low as he looks at me with concern. Where did he even come from?

“He’s mixed drinks with heavy-duty hay fever tablets,” Trey is saying but I’m not sure who he’s speaking to.

“I only had two,” I add, needing them to understand.

“Shit. He doesn’t look great,” Quinn says. I pout at those words. That’s not nice to say. Not when I think about how amazing he looks, his dark hair swept to the side, him in his nice clothes and those pretty blue eyes watching me so intently. So beautiful.

“His parents cannot see him like this,” Trey mutters and I’m conscious enough to heartily agree with that statement. “I need to get him out of here.”

“I can take him,” Quinn says, my heart picking up at that. “My car is parked around the corner.”

“He can’t go home,” Trey reiterates.

“I know. I meant I’ll take him back to my place.” Yes, yes that option, please. I want to join in the conversation but it seems to be taking place without me and I think I’ve forgotten how to speak anyway.

“You sure?”

“Course. Wait here for me, yeah?” Quinn replies. He moves away and I want to reach out and grab him but my arms aren’t working that well either. I slump against Trey and watch as Quinn walks back to his group of friends, too-pretty Jace amongst them who is eyeing me with what I can only describe as open hostility.

“He’s so nice,” I finally manage to get out.

“Who? Quinn?” Trey replies.

“Yeah. He’s so, so nice,” I clarify.

“Well he’s about to save your ass so I’ll have to agree with you on that one,” Trey says. “You sure you don’t mind going home with him?”

“Not at all. He’s so nice, Trey,” I assure my cousin. “And his eyelashes. Have you seen them? They’re like … feathers .”

He chokes on a laugh. “Can’t say I’ve noticed his lashes, cuz.”

Silence descends for the moment until Quinn’s nice blue WRX is pulling up on the street in front of us and Trey is hauling me to my feet. Quinn is there too, his hands on me as he and my cousin move me into the front seat. I wish I could tell them I can handle it but I kind of can’t, and I also really don’t mind the feel of Quinn’s hands on me like that. His face is right in front of me as he leans across to strap my seatbelt in and I have this urge to smell him. And he smells divine, as good as I imagined he would as I inhale a long breath of him.

“You smell good,” I sigh, barely registering Quinn’s soft chuckle.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Trey says as he leans on the open door, peering across at Quinn as he shifts into the driver’s seat. His eyes carry a warning, and I can’t help but smile at how protective my cousin is of me.

“Love you, cuz,” I tell him.

“Love you too, bro,” he replies, glancing across at Quinn again.

Next minute the door is closed and it’s just me and Quinn alone in the car, Quinn who smells so delicious and looks so good and has those amazing lashes and I just want to enjoy the ride with him. Instead, my eyes close shut and I only know that because next minute we’re at Quinn’s house and he is hauling me out of the car. His arms are wrapped around me all nice and tight while he leads me to his house.

“This way, JT,” he encourages, one hand on my hip, the other under my arms.

“You’re so nice, Quinn,” I sigh, leaning my head on his shoulder. I hear him huff out another laugh while he unlocks the door. Next, we have the stairs to navigate and that is not as easy as it sounds but we make it up there, me leaning heavily onto Quinn as his hands do all the work. I want to just curl up into him and breathe in his delicious scent all night long.

My eyelids are droopy and I am not entirely sure what happens next before I feel something nice and warm wrap around me and I am out cold.

***

I wake up alone and disoriented, limbs heavy and head feeling fifty types of nasty. I rub my eyes as they slowly open and it takes me a few seconds before I realise I’m in Quinn’s bedroom. Another glance around me confirms I am in fact, in Quinn’s bed, his soft blue comforter squeezed around me. My heart jumps right up into my throat while I try to gain my bearings.

Quinn is nowhere to be seen but a moment later I register the sound of the shower running in his ensuite. My stomach gives another resounding kick. Because that means Quinn is in there — naked and wet — in the room right next door. And suddenly I’m assaulted with a whole set of new emotions as that realisation settles around me.

How the fuck did I end up here in Quinn’s bed? I glance down at myself, kind of relieved to discover I am fully dressed in the jeans and polo I wore to Insanity last night. I look across at the pillow beside me, noting the indentation and the clearly slept in state of the bedding. My cheeks light up like the dawn sun. Did I sleep here in Quinn’s bed? Beside him?

Ho – ly fuck.

I am seconds away from full hyperventilation mode when the sound of the water shuts off. I slam back down onto the pillow, sealing my eyes tight shut. It’s not that I’m afraid of Quinn but I am the first to admit I need a few more minutes to process the fact I have woken up in his bed. Where we apparently slept — in the literal sense — together.

The bathroom door opens and I feel the warm, steamy air invade the room but I keep my eyes clamped shut. I hear Quinn pad across the room, and I cannot help but take a peek but no, oh holy hell , that is not a good move on my part. Quinn has his back to me but the only thing covering him is the plain blue towel wrapped around his waist. His back is nice, so very, very nice, and I can’t peel my eyes away.

But then — oh wait for it — he drops the towel, and it takes everything within me not to react to the fact that Quinn is now completely, totally naked. But I am only human and I cannot stop the little gasp that leaks out of my mouth while my blood rushes south and my dick pushes up against the zip in my jeans.

I can only see his ass but oh, it’s a nice ass if that is a thing I’m allowed to say? His body is trim and toned, his skin a few shades paler than mine. He’s not packing in the muscle department, but I don’t think that’s a negative whatsoever as my eyes spill over his flesh. I’m still reeling when Quinn proceeds to ruin the moment as he steps into a pair of boxers.

It's only then I realise I am blatantly perving. I clamp my eyes shut so tight I’m sure it looks completely unnatural. I will myself to keep them closed but I actually just don’t think I can, and I open them just in time to see Quinn stepping into a pair of jeans. My eyes fall to his crotch before moving up to the naked expanse of his chest.

Breathe, JT. Just breathe.

“You’re awake,” I hear. I manage to peel my eyes away from ogling Quinn’s body to find his eyes on me, an amused expression on his face, highlighted by that crooked smile.

“Ah, yeah,” I manage to utter. I am positive my face has flushed bright crimson because it always does when I least need it to, but I can’t help it. Quinn closes the gap between us, perching on the edge of his bed right beside me with his very naked chest right there in front of me and those jeans still not quite buttoned. Am I having an aneurism right now? I think I am.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, voice equally amused and concerned as he brushes my hair from my eyes. I want to preen. I want him to bring those hands back and keep touching me but he drops the contact. I don’t know where to look.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” I admit.

Quinn huffs a laugh while my eyes track down to his nipples. They’re very pink. And round. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

“Not really. I just remember sitting on a curb outside and then … you were there …”

“Trey thinks you mixed drinks with some hay fever tablets.”

“Ah, shit,” I sigh. “I remember now. What an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he returns, soft smile on his face.

“Kind of feeling that way right now.”

“Well, the good thing is you’re okay,” he replies. “Trey was worried about your parents seeing you last night. That’s why I brought you home with me.”

More memories trickle through as snippets of conversation filter their way through my foggy mind.

“Uh, I’m sorry,” I say, resting my arm across my eyes. “I’m feeling so stupid right now.”

“Don’t, JT,” Quinn replies, pulling my arm away and leaning over to look at me. “Everything’s fine and you’re okay. And now you know for next time.”

I’m quiet for a few moments, Quinn still watching me while I try to stop my eyes from roving his body. He doesn’t have a lot of chest hair, but he does have an interesting trail of dark hair leading down just past those unbuttoned jeans … I snap my eyes back up to his.

“Did I say anything? Last night?” I ask, tiny little snippets forcing their way back in as embarrassment rains down on me, not aided by Quinn’s crooked smirk.

“Maybe,” he shrugs.

“What? What did I say?”

“Nothing too embarrassing,” he grins. “You might have told me how nice I am about half a dozen times. There might have been something about eyelashes too. I can’t remember.” He’s trying not to laugh and I feel my stomach clench at the thought. Yes, I am admittedly obsessed with his long eyelashes but I can’t believe I actually vocalised it. What else did I say?

“I’m so embarrassed,” I murmur. Quinn plucks my fists from where I have squeezed them into my eyes, and I can’t help but look up at his smirk.

“You shouldn’t be. I liked it,” he says. He holds my eye a weighted minute, amusement on his face, blue eyes sparkling. I feel myself relax. He’s still holding my fists and some weird part of me wants to coil our fingers together. But I don’t. That would be weird. Weirder than it already is with him sitting there half naked and amused.

“I’m glad you were there.”

“Me too.” He drops my hands. “Do you want to sleep for a bit longer? Or would you like a shower?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a shower,” I admit in a small voice.

“Okay.” He rises to his feet and my eyes follow him and that nice body of his as he moves into the bathroom. He comes back out a moment later doing up his jeans button, my eyes tracking his every move. “There’s a fresh towel on the vanity and I’ve left you out a spare toothbrush.”

“Thank you.” I can’t move as I watch him pull on a t-shirt and try not to be disappointed as he spoils the view.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he says, shutting his bedroom door behind him. I sigh and tip my head back on the pillow, relieved to be alone for a minute. I’m still fully hard beneath the covers and I am glad I don’t have to try and conceal it from Quinn. I pull myself out of his beautifully soft bed and move into the bathroom.

It's nice in here and I take a moment to poke around before I shuck my clothes and turn on the water. I’m glad for the personal moment to take care of myself before I am in Quinn’s company again. A part of me feels rude about doing this in Quinn’s shower, knowing he was in here naked only moments ago. But that is a very strong reason as to why I need to do this right now because otherwise I’ll keep picturing it and I’ll be right back to square one.

I know I should feel ashamed for this, for touching myself in Quinn’s shower, for having these feelings and thoughts but I can’t help them. I can’t help how I am feeling about things right now, but I also can’t quite believe there’s anything wrong with it either. How can feelings be wrong?

I just have to let my mind in on the memo which, I have a strong suspicion, is going to be a whole hell of a lot easier said than done.

But then again, it’s really just me and a whole truckload of internalised hang ups , now swirling down the drainpipe in Quinn’s beautiful bathroom , to attempt to unwind.