Page 36 of Jacked (Gymbos #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

SLATER

I pull on my favorite well-worn Dodgers jersey, then run my fingers through my hair and tug my cap on.

I have a date with AJ . I grin to myself and double-check the stock of lube and condoms in my bedside drawer for later.

I really don’t need to double-check anything considering I bought both fresh just a few days ago, but it settles my jittery nerves to make sure I’m good to go for the after part of our date.

I don’t know who felt weirder, me or Cas, when I called him up yesterday to ask about the best way to get myself in fuck-ready condition back there.

I had no clue how much prep it took to get ready for anal sex, but if that’s where things go tonight, my ass is officially so clean you could eat out of it. And I’m really hoping AJ wants to.

My cock swells immediately at the thought of AJ’s hot, wet tongue on my hole. I groan and adjust myself. Fuck, do I want to ride that man’s face. I chuckle quietly and fan myself to try to get rid of the heat rising into my cheeks. Wholesome baseball date first, debauchery and face riding later.

There’s a knock at my bedroom door and my heart explodes into a gallop, hammering against my rib cage. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and then pull the door open.

I was expecting his usual slutty tank top and gym shorts combo, but fuck me, the tight-fitting t-shirt stretched across his chest and squeezing around his biceps is somehow even sexier.

It looks like he might have trimmed his hair, but the usual rough stubble is still present on his chin, just the way I like it.

A shy smile twists on his lips and he holds up the saddest bouquet of half-dead flowers I’ve ever seen in my life.

I sputter a laugh and take them.

“Sorry, these were the only flowers they had at the corner store, and I didn’t have time to find a proper flower shop or whatever.”

“Stop it, you’re too fucking cute.” I sniff the wilted flowers and smile wider. Even if they’ll only last another day, they still smell nice. And seriously, he went to the corner store and bought me flowers? Please, be less adorable or we’re never going to make it out of this apartment.

“I didn’t get you anything.” Dammit, I wish I’d asked Cas more about what to actually do on a date with another guy instead of just focusing on the ins-and-outs (pun intended) of anal douching.

“Oh, wait.” I turn around and set the flowers on top of my dresser, then pull open the top drawer.

“Now, remember, you’re my date right now, not my trainer,” I say before I pull out a few of the fancy, individually wrapped chocolates I stashed in there.

He chuckles as I offer him the chocolates.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, unwrapping one and popping it into his mouth.

After he swallows it, I lean in for a kiss, grinning against his lips as I lick between them.

“Mm, chocolatey,” I tease, loving the way his chest rumbles against mine with his laughter.

“You’ve convinced me, it’s okay to be bad sometimes.” He nuzzles his nose against mine and pecks my lips one more time before letting me go.

“Is it wrong that I kind of love that I’m a bad influence on you?”

We make our way to the door and pause to put our shoes on.

“I think you’re the best influence I’ve ever had, actually,” he says.

“Dude.” It’s all I can say since my throat is tightening up with all the emotion AJ always seems to stir up inside me.

I’ve dated plenty in my life, even been in love a couple of times, but there’s just something about AJ that’s different. Maybe it’s watching his walls come down one brick at a time that makes it feel so damn good every time he drops a hint that he’s feeling this too.

His hand brushes against my lower back as we step out of the apartment. It’s a quick touch, gone almost instantly, but it’s a subtle reminder that this isn’t just two bros going to watch a baseball game, it’s a date.

“Thanks, by the way.” I bump my shoulder against his once we reach the sidewalk and head in the direction of the stadium, which is only about half a mile away.

“For what?” Our hands brush against each other and my fingers twitch with the urge to reach for him. Is that okay? Was the hand-holding a one-time thing or is it fair game now that he broke the seal?

“For asking me on a date, for getting us tickets to the game, for that thing you did with your tongue last night.” I make my voice low and flirty, and he shoots me a heated look.

“No thanks needed for any of it.” His fingers brush mine again, and then he grabs my hand, twining his thick fingers between mine.

“Is it freaking you out at all?” Other than AJ mentioning his feelings over text last week, we haven’t talked about it again.

I don’t want to push if he’s not ready. But I’m also fucking dying to know where he’s at with everything.

We may be long past denial, but is he still confused?

Is he struggling to match the old version of himself up with the new one?

Is he lying awake at night worrying about what his dad and brother will say when he eventually comes out?

I almost feel guilty that it was easy for me and that I know there won’t be any family drama over my sexuality.

But I get the sense that where my attraction to AJ, and guys in a more general sense, came as a little bit of a surprise, his was more like something he’s been fighting without realizing it.

“Honestly?” He drags his free hand over his stubbled jaw. It looks like he reapplied the blue nail polish, which was starting to chip.

“No, lie to me,” I tease, squeezing his hand.

“Taking you on a date feels so natural that that’s fucking with my head a little,” he admits. “Do you have any of that going on? Like, every part of this so far feels like I should have been doing it all along and it’s kind of… depressing.”

I hum in understanding. I definitely get what he means.

It feels like lost time that it took us both so long to realize we’re bisexual.

I smirk at him though, and press myself a little closer as we walk under the pretense of making space for other people on the sidewalk.

“But if we’d realized it sooner, we wouldn’t have the fun of all of our firsts together. ”

He grunts, and damn does that sound do things to me.

“That’s a pretty good silver lining,” he admits.

I want to lick his earlobe, maybe pull him to a stop and kiss him again, but I resist the urge. I’m not sure he’s ready for such blatant PDA. Maybe he’ll never be that kind of guy. That’s okay. I can save all the licking and kissing for behind closed doors.

As we get closer to Wrigley Field, I drop AJ’s hand. The streets are so packed you’d think it was a playoff game, with people spilling out of bars and gathering on rooftops to get a good view without paying for a ticket.

“Man, if I’d known we were sitting center outfield, I would have brought my glove with,” I say as we take our seats.

“Shit, I didn’t even think about it. Between this and the dead flowers, I think I’m going to need a second date if I’m gonna impress you.”

My stomach flutters. “I don’t know, it might take three or four, maybe even five dates to get it right.”

He smirks and spreads his legs a little to press his knee against mine. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

He waves down the vendor selling beer while I flag down the hot dog guy.

“Trade you a beer for a hot dog,” he barters.

“No way, I’m hungry.” I hold the extra hot dog out of his reach and bite into the other one.

“Ass.” He chuckles, setting both plastic cups of beer down and wrestling his hot dog out of my hand. I doubt the people seated around us find the whole thing as hilarious and charming as we do, but oh well.

This is my first date with AJ, and it’s fucking perfect.

AJ

Slater manages to catch a fly ball in his hat in the bottom of the ninth, which he gives to me. Silas was right, it’s a pretty fucking great date move. And after the Cubs win, we decide we’re not ready to call it a night just yet. We end up at a packed bar right across the street from the stadium.

“There’s a couple of stools opening up.” Slater nudges me and we hurry over to claim the seats at the bar.

I’m sure the place is violating the fire code with how wall to wall it is.

Replays of the game are playing on the big-screen TVs while everyone around us talks loudly, recounting the game and arguing about whether the Cubs are playoff contenders now or not.

It gives me every excuse to pull my stool right up close to Slater’s and lean in towards him.

He orders us a couple more beers, which are just as overpriced as the ones at the ballpark but hopefully won’t taste as watered down.

His hand slips onto my thigh and he glances at me out of the corner of his eye like he’s checking whether that’s okay.

I doubt anyone in here is paying us any attention, and even if they are, fuck ’em.

I press into his touch and then lay my hand over his.

“That was fun,” he says, picking up his beer as soon as the bartender sets them down and taking a sip.

“Maybe we can take a trip out to Cali sometime and catch a Dodgers game.” He clears his throat and a blush creeps onto his cheeks, barely visible in the dim light of the bar.

“We could make a whole vacation out of it. Stay at my parents’ beach house, do some surfing…

” He takes another gulp from his glass. “Maybe next summer?”

My heart stutters and the reason he started blushing clicks.

We’re still figuring shit out—ourselves, this relationship, if we can even call it that.

This is probably the most complicated first date I’ve ever been on, with so much at stake and so many unasked questions hanging in the air.

I love that he’s daydreaming about a vacation together next summer though.

I love that he wants us to get there, even if the road ahead is unpaved and unmapped right now.

“That sounds awesome,” I agree, because I want to hope for that too. “I could meet your brother and former best friend.”

Slater laughs and then his eyes go wide. “Oh fuck, I forgot to mention, they might be coming for a visit in a couple of weeks. It would just be for a long weekend probably, maybe for Labor Day.”

“Yeah, of course.” My stomach flutters with nerves at the prospect of meeting his brother, but from everything he’s told me about Cas and Nolan, I’m sure it’ll go fine.

“Cool. Of course, if they stay at the apartment, I’ll probably have to give them my bed. I guess I could sleep on the couch.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching with a repressed grin.

“It’s a pretty comfortable couch,” I deadpan.

“Mm. Small though,” he says with a sigh.

“True. Sounds like a real problem.” I take a sip from my glass and fight to keep my expression neutral.

Slater leans in closer, his breath ghosting over my ear.

“It’s a real shame I can’t just share your bed.

I guess that might be dangerous though, with such thin walls.

Fuck knows I can’t keep my hands off of you, and your moans are always so loud.

” He slides his hand a little higher up the inside of my thigh, and drags the tip of his nose along the shell of my ear.

Goose bumps run up the back of my neck and my cock swells. I swallow hard.

“Real shame,” I agree hoarsely.

The stool next to us squeaks loudly against the floor, drawing my attention.

I’ve been so wrapped up in Slater since we sat down, I haven’t really noticed anyone else around us outside of the general awareness that the place is loud and crowded.

The guy on the stool next to us looks down at Slater’s hand on my thigh and then wrinkles his nose and mutters something under his breath.

I can’t hear what it is over the noise inside the bar, but the look on his face is unmistakable. Whatever it was, wasn’t flattering.

My gut clenches, and that sense of shame I carried around for so damn long tries to dig its claws into me again.

It’s made up of a lifetime of taunts and questioning looks that taught me what was okay to say and think and feel, and what wasn’t.

It wants to creep back inside and make everything about today ugly.

It wants to make everything about my feelings for Slater bad and wrong.

It’s the weight of his hand on my thigh that makes it so easy for me to shut it down, to drive the shame away and lock the doors behind it so it won’t ever get back in.

Fuck that. I can’t believe I let it win for so long. I can’t believe I let all those voices and the inky black shame make me small and scared and less myself than I could have been all this time.

The asshole looks back over at me, sizing me up when he realizes I’m still staring at him. Glaring is probably more accurate.

“What?” he scoffs.

“Just wondering what happened to you to make you such a miserable fucking person,” I say evenly. I don’t bother waiting to hear his answer though. I don’t really care. He can go on being miserable and hateful and small as long as he likes. It’s not going to touch me.

I swivel on my stool to face Slater, grab the front of his jersey with my free hand, and drag him to me.

He gasps against my lips in surprise, just like the first time we kissed, in a bar surrounded by people exactly like we are now.

I trace the shape of his smile with my tongue and then dip it between his lips, swallowing the next surprised sound he feeds me.

“You want to get out of here?” I murmur against his mouth, and he nods.

“Yeah, let’s go home and have a proper end to our first date.” The filthy smile that spreads over his damp lips goes straight to my cock.

Best first date ever.