Page 27 of Jacked (Gymbos #1)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

AJ

The hair between my legs is crusted, tugging painfully when I shift, still half-asleep and trying to sort out what actually happened last night. There’s not a lot of room for denial though considering it’s Slater’s dried cum on my balls and upper thighs.

Is that what I want? To find a way to deny what happened or reason it away?

I was confused. I was worried I was going to lose Slater as my roommate and my friend.

I was in a gay bar, for fuck’s sake, of course I got a little curious and adventurous.

My gut settles at the string of rationalizations, but my mind recoils.

I don’t want to go back to that. As hard as moving forward feels, going back is impossible.

I roll over and reach out with my eyes still closed. My fingers brush against cool, wrinkled sheets. My heart sinks. Maybe Slater came to the opposite conclusion this morning. Maybe he woke up and realized last night didn’t do it for him and he’s straight after all.

A flurry of memories assaults me. The sound of his deep, horny moans, his body moving against mine, the way his face twisted and his body shook with pleasure…

Okay, no, he probably didn’t wake up this morning and decide he’s straight after all.

But maybe he did wake up and realize the last place he wanted to be was in my bed.

I mean, shit, it makes sense. If you just figured out you like chocolate, you’re not going to want just one slice of cake.

My stomach twists all over again and my pleasant, horny thoughts turn into a fresh tornado of confusion.

This is all too damn much to think about before coffee and maybe a good, long run.

I sit up and wince at the stinging tug again.

Okay, shower , coffee, long run, and then maybe I’ll be able to start getting my thoughts in order.

I fling my sheets back and swing my legs around to get out of bed.

Instead of touching the wood floor though, my feet land on a pile of clothes.

I look down and see the pink shirt Slater wore last night.

He left his clothes. That has to be a good sign, right? Or maybe he was just afraid to wake me. This is why I’m no fucking good at relationships. There are too many questions and games, too many unspoken rules and expectations that always trip me up. Why can’t we just be more direct about shit?

I’m still staring at the pink shirt under my feet when there’s a knock at my door. My heart jumps.

“Yeah?” I rasp, my voice still rough from sleep.

There are a few seconds of silence before the knob turns and the door opens slowly.

Slater peeks his head in, his hat in place like usual.

He must have grabbed that off the floor before he snuck out.

He smiles, and then his eyes land on my naked body.

He rakes them over me slowly , like he’s trying to memorize every inch.

I spread my legs a little wider and puff up my chest, the heat and excitement from last night rushing through me all over again to chub up my cock and warm my bare skin.

He licks his lips and then clears his throat, dragging his gaze back to my face.

“Morning,” he says quietly, like he’s afraid to disturb someone.

“Morning,” I grunt.

A few more beats of silence pass between us.

I wish I could tell what he’s thinking from the look in his eyes, but I’ve got fucking nothing.

Is he trying to figure out how to let me down gently?

Worrying I’m in the middle of a freak out?

Hoping we can treat this the same way we’ve treated everything else so far and just not talk about it?

If it means we can keep doing it, I’m all for that option.

I just can’t work out how we get there without talking about it.

“Sorry, my thoughts are going in a million directions right now.” He lets out a huff of a laugh, and I chuckle right along with him.

“That makes two of us.”

Slater nods and his smile gets a little wider. “Okay, so I’m thinking we should talk about stuff if you’re up for it.”

I shift and wince again at the unpleasant reminder of dried cum.

“Yeah, I need to shower though.”

His eyes light up. Is he going to ask to join me in the shower?

Should I offer? I’ve showered with a few girlfriends in the past, but I never really got the appeal.

There’s never enough space under the water, so I always ended up cold, and shower sex is definitely overrated.

If I’m being really honest with myself though, the thought of Slater’s hands all over me under the hot spray, rubbing the suds into my muscles definitely has a contented sound rumbling in my chest.

The moment passes though, and he looks away, adjusting his hat anxiously and shifting on his feet.

“Alright, you do that and when you’re done, we can talk?”

“Yeah.”

SLATER

I lean against the counter, sipping my third cup of coffee, trying hard not to picture AJ’s naked, wet body. If I let myself do that, I might be tempted to join him, and while certain parts of me are extremely on board with that idea, I know we need to talk first.

Ugh, when did I get so damned mature?

When I woke up in his bed this morning next to that giant, snoring bear of a man, all I wanted to do was bury my face between his pecs again and grind my morning wood against his until he woke up groggy and horny.

But instead of doing that, I slipped out while he was still sleeping because I thought he might need some time to get his thoughts together before seeing me.

Lame. The right thing to do, yeah, but still lame.

While I wait for him, I pull out my phone to finally check the missed messages from Nolan and Cas.

I don’t know why my nerves jump and dance in my stomach.

They’re gay, of course they’re not going to care.

But it feels big. It’s big for me , anyway.

Maybe that’s what I’m anxious about, that they won’t understand what a huge realization this whole thing has been.

If they could climb off of each other long enough to call me they might know.

Not that I’m feeling salty or left out or anything.

I take a deep breath and open the message thread.

CASPIAN:?!?!?!

NOLAN: Wait… do you know what that shirt is implying?

CASPIAN: Yeah, those are bi pride colors, dude. Are you bi? Is that what this is? You’re coming out to us with a picture in a group chat?

CASPIAN: How are you just leaving us hanging like this?

CASPIAN: Slate, where the fuck are you?

There are a dozen more messages asking where I am and if I’m fucking with them before they finally gave up last night.

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best coming out I could have come up with.

I probably should have at least included a caption to clear up the confusion.

I stare at the messages for a minute thinking about how I want to respond. Finally, I type out a simple response.

SLATER: Yup, I’m bisexual

I add three heart emojis—pink, purple, and blue—then send the message off. As soon as I do, I hear the bathroom door open. I jump to attention, jittery from too damn much caffeine this morning, and shove my phone into my pocket.

My heart is in my throat as I listen to the slow, even footsteps coming down the hallway towards the kitchen.

I probably should have spent the last couple of hours while I waited for him to wake up thinking about what to say to him instead of replaying last night in my head over and over, but it’s too late for that now.

AJ steps into the kitchen, his hair damp and the smell of soap following him.

He’s wearing his standard outfit of a wide-sleeved tank top and athletic shorts that fall to mid-thigh.

That party tit of his peeks out, his dark nipple temptingly on display.

Instead of looking away immediately, I let my attention linger on it for a second before slowly dragging my gaze up to meet his with a flirtatious smile.

His breath hitches and his eyes darken. Fuck coffee, maybe we can start the day with orgasms.

He swallows hard and that annoyingly mature voice in the back of my head reminds me that there are other priorities before I can tear his clothes off and bite his nipples again.

I whirl around to grab a coffee mug and fill it.

“Actually,” he says. “Do you want to go for a run?”

I set the mug down and look at him over my shoulder.

“Are you trying to avoid talking?” I arch an eyebrow at him. If he doesn’t want to talk about last night, I’m not going to force him. But I might go fucking insane wondering what it meant to him and how he’s dealing.

He quirks a half smile. “I can talk and run at the same time. Can you?”

I chuckle. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

It only takes a minute for us to get our shoes on and get out the door.

As soon as we hit the sidewalk and start moving, I can see the wisdom in AJ’s suggestion.

There’s a lot less pressure when we’re not sitting and staring right at each other.

I can blame my racing heart on the pace he sets that I try to keep up with instead of nerves.

Our footsteps fall into a matching rhythm and my thoughts slowly organize themselves with every steady breath I puff out.

“So, you freaking out or what?” I ask.

“No,” he says simply.

Oh, thank fuck. If he’d said he regretted last night, that would have been a kick in the nuts.

“Good.” I nod as we run. Another benefit to his plan is that short, simple answers don’t feel out of place or awkward. We can keep it simple and blame it on needing to save our breath.

We jog another couple of blocks in comfortable silence, and I try to remember what else I wanted to ask him.

There’s a lot of stuff I’m curious about, like what made him kiss me last night and if he knew he liked guys on some level before last night or if this is brand new.

But those aren’t the kinds of things that have easy one-word answers.

We reach a crosswalk and AJ pulls his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face. I let myself appreciate the cut of his abs and the dark trail of hair I ran my fingers through last night.

“Do you want to do it again?” The question comes out deep and husky.

He drops his shirt and meets my eyes. His expression is dark and hot, just like when I checked him out in his bed this morning. Like he likes me looking at him. Like he wants me just as much as I want him, even if we still have a hell of a lot to figure out.

He stares at me for half a beat.

“Yeah,” he says, and then the light changes and we take off running again.