Page 15 of Taste Test

Jared trusts me? The idea settled in my chest, warm and a little heavy, like I’d just been handed something I wasn’t sure I was ready to hold.

“Whattaya say?” he asked. “Can you talk to him for me?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath, then gave a short, humourless laugh. “Look, Casey. I’m desperate here. If you talk to him for me, I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gave me a crooked smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Come on, man. I’ve seen the way you look at Jared and all of us on the team.

You’re gagging for a taste of jock cock.

No judgement. If you want a sample—” he jerked his chin towards his crotch “—I don’t mind throwing you a freebie. Call it a thank-you.”

For a second I thought I’d misheard. But the smug little smirk confirmed he meant every word.

“And if you’re after more than a quick blowie, well…” his voice went down another notch, “let’s just say I can be very accommodating, provided there’s plenty of lube. But no kissing. I’m not full-on mo. I just like my p-spot being tapped.”

Yep. Definitely a fan of pegging porn.

I opened my mouth, ready to tell him to shove his sleazy proposition right up his—

The sound of boxes crashing came from the stockroom, followed by Dash’s juvenile voice unleashing a fresh volley of profanity.

Seconds later, my purple-haired supervisor emerged, arms full of coffee bean bags that he was struggling to carry.

One slipped from his grip and hit the floor with a dull thud.

“Shit,” he said, then looked up and noticed Connor. His expression brightened. “Oh, hey! Connor Walsh, right? From the uni rugby team?”

Connor nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Brilliant game last weekend, mate. That try in the second half was fucking amazeballs.” Dash dropped the remaining bags and walked over to join us. “The way you broke through their defence line was absolute poetry in motion.”

“Cheers,” Connor said, looking pleased for the first time since he’d walked in. “Good to meet a fan.”

“Fan? I’m obsessed. I’ve got season tickets.”

“You should bring Casey along one game.” Connor shot me a wink. “I don’t think he’s seen the team play live before.”

Dash looked confused. “Do you two know each other?”

“I’m best mates with Casey’s flatmate.”

Was , I almost said. But I kept my mouth shut.

“Your flatmate?” Dash frowned at me. “Who’s your flatmate?”

I was about to respond but Connor beat me to it.

“Jared Sutherland.”

“Jared Sutherland?” Dash stared at us like he’d misheard.

Connor gave a nod. “That’s the one.”

“Wait, hold up.” Dash stepped in front of Connor like he was stopping traffic.

Then he turned to me, eyes huge. “You live with Jared Sutherland? The Jared Sutherland? Star fullback, future All Black, poster boy for the entire team?” He swung back to Connor.

“No offence, mate. You’re brilliant too.

” Then straight back to me, zeroing in. “But holy shit, Casey. That’s. .. what the hell. That’s massive.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” I said.

“Not that big a deal?” Dash’s voice shot so high I wondered if those skin-tight jeans had finally strangled his balls to death. “Casey, the man’s a god. He got suspended last year for punching some guy in the face and won Man of the Match. In the same game!”

“I think we’ve established who he is,” I said.

Connor cleared his throat. “Anyway, I should get going. Casey, you’ll... you know. Have that word?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good man. Shoot me a text when you do and I’ll make sure the goods are ready for you. Any night after eight works.” His eyes lingered on mine just long enough for me to catch the undertone.

“Okay,” I said flatly.

Connor gave me a nod, then turned to Dash with a smooth smile. “Nice meeting you, mate.”

“You too!” Dash beamed. “See you at the next game!”

Connor gave a quick wave and disappeared out the door.

There was no way in hell I’d ever be taking Connor up on his offer.

Aside from the fact he was so far from my type it wasn’t funny, I wasn’t about to betray Jared the way Jess had.

Sure, there might’ve been bragging rights in saying I’d had my dick inside a semi-professional rugby player’s arsehole, but not at that cost. Not like that.

The second the door clicked shut, Dash spun to face me like I’d been hiding state secrets.

“What the actual fuck, Casey?”

“What?”

“Jared Sutherland?” His voice went up two octaves. “You live with Jared fucking Sutherland?”

“Yes, Dash. That’s now the third time you’ve said it.”

He kept going like he hadn’t heard me. “You live with the Jared Sutherland? In the same house? Like, you share a bathroom?”

“Christ almighty. Yes.”

Dash staggered back a step like he needed a moment to recover. “You’ve been living with Jared Sutherland and just forgot to mention it?”

“I didn’t forget. I just didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Not relevant? He’s a Waikato icon. I even made a chant for him.” Dash widened his stance and started slapping his chest like he was about to perform a haka. “ Suthy! Suthy! Run it back! Fullback king and future All Black! ”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Please, for the love of God, never do that in public. He’ll slap a restraining order on both of us.”

Dash beamed, ignoring me. “I’ve got more. Wanna hear?”

“No.”

He clapped his hands anyway. “Jared, Jared, he’s our man! If he can’t do it, no one can!”

“Wow,” I said flatly. “Original. I’m sure no sports team in history has ever heard that one.”

“Alright, alright, how about this one?” He struck another pose, giving his best pukana eyes. “Suth-er-land! Suth-er-land! Smash that line! Score that try and make it mine!”

I groaned into my hands. “I swear to God, if you ever chant that within earshot of him, I’ll deny knowing you.”

“He’d love it. He’d be honoured.”

“Pretty sure the only thing Jared loves is Jared. And possibly Powerade.”

Dash just smirked. “Then I’ll write one about Powerade too.”

“More importantly, since when have you been into rugby? Or any sport for that matter?”

“I grew up in Tokoroa. Of course I like rugby. You think this hair dye erased my entire childhood?” He jabbed a thumb towards his chest. “There’s a sport-mad Māori boy under this punk exterior. I was literally born on the side of a rugby field.”

“Sure you were.”

“I’m serious. Mum went into labour at training.

Dad reckons I came out trying to scrum the midwife.

” He grinned at his own joke, then kept going.

“I played until I was fifteen, too. I was decent cause I was so fast and nippy, but then everyone else bulked up and I stayed… well, skinny. Too weedy to make the decent teams.” He shrugged, unbothered.

“So I swapped the ball for bass guitar.”

“Tragic loss to New Zealand rugby.”

“Oi, I had my moments. Scored a few tries. Fingered my first girlfriend behind the clubrooms too. Proper rite of passage.”

I groaned. “TMI, Dash. TMI.”

He just smirked. “What? You think Richie McCaw didn’t get a bit of action behind the sheds?”

“Cool beans. Now can we get back to work?”

“Not until I get my apology.”

“Excuse me?”

“You owe me an apology.”

“What the fuck for?”

“For keeping secrets from me. You’ve been living with Jared Sutherland this whole time and never bothered to tell me? Bro, that’s just low.”

“What’s low is you keep saying his full name. Just call him Jared. Or dickhead, he usually responds to that as well.”

“How long have we been working together?” he demanded.

“About twelve months.”

“Twelve months! And you never thought to mention you’re basically roommates with rugby royalty?” He nearly knocked over the tip jar. “I thought we were mates. I thought we shared things.”

“‘Mates’ is a bit of a stretch. You’re my supervisor who bosses me around and makes me mop up your piss because you can’t aim into a toilet bowl.”

“Yeah, but if I’d known you had insider access to the House of Sutherland, I’d have upped my piss-aim game.” Dash resumed pacing behind the counter, which in the cramped space looked more like frantic fidgeting. “This changes everything. Everything.”

I gave him a wary look. “Changes what, exactly?”

“Well, for starters, you’re going to introduce me.”

“Am I?”

“You are. I need to shake the man’s hand and thank him for his service to New Zealand rugby. I want to watch him drink a Powerade and pretend it’s a religious experience.”

“You’re not meeting my flatmate just so you can fanboy all over him.”

“Okay. What if I make you a deal?”

I folded my arms. “I’m listening.”

“I’ll stop pissing on the toilet seat.”

“That shouldn’t require negotiation.”

“I’ll consistently stop,” he said. “Perfect aim. Hands-free stream. Not a single rogue drop.”

I stared at him.

“Still not enough? Fine.” He leaned in closer, voice dropping. “What if I sweeten the deal.”

“And how do you propose to do that? Resign?”

“I’ll head out back right now, strip down to my undies, and let you have a proper look.” His tongue slipped out and wet his bottom lip. “I can stay in my tighty-whities all day if you like. Just pop out back when there’s no customers. You can perve as much as you like.”

What the...

In the space of five minutes I’d been propositioned by two straight guys who thought sex was something you could trade like smokes in prison. I wondered if I should check the mirror to see if someone had scrawled ‘pity fuck me’ across my forehead in Sharpie.

He cupped the crotch of his jeans. “You think I haven’t noticed you checking me out every time I bend over? Come on, Casey. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

“You’re not my type,” I lied.

“Sure I’m not. That’s why you can’t stop eye-fucking me whenever I take my shirt off for ‘gym progress’ checks?”

Fuck. He’s not as dumb as I thought.

“Look, it’s not a big deal,” he said. “Just two mates helping each other out.”

“We are not mates.”