by Tessa Bailey
Marcus turned with a smile. “You calling us vain?” He flexed his bicep and kissed it. “I gotta stay in shape so you have something nice to ogle on the beach.”
That surprised a laugh out of Jamie. “Hey, you haven’t said something like that in at least a week. I think we’ve turned a corner.”
“I only ever said those things because I was trying to hide the fact that I ogle you.” Marcus said, immediately wishing he’d been born with a working verbal filter. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I just meant to say…I think I was trying to convince myself, too. That I was the guy everyone thinks I am.” He held up his forearm. “Kind of like with this tattoo.”
Jamie was silent for a moment. “What kind of guy does everyone think you are?”
“Loud, inappropriate. Kind of pervy.”
“You think you can’t embody those qualities and like men at the same time?” Jamie laughed under his breath. “Sometimes I think at least two out of those three characteristics is a requirement.”
Marcus scoffed. “You’re not loud or inappropriate.”
Sex smoked in his eyes. “I am under the right circumstances.”
“Jamie,” Marcus groaned. “Please don’t give me boner.”
“You already have one.”
“Dammit.” Marcus approached the counter so he could hide his erection. Even with sexual frustration tightening around him like a full body belt, he couldn’t help but chuckle in response to Jamie’s laughter. “So what you’re saying is…I can be this exact person no matter what? I don’t have to change?”
“No, there’s no club uniform. We don’t perform random searches to make sure your sheets are clean and your shoes are in season. You can gay your own way, Marcus. Some people live louder than others, but that goes for straight people, too.”
Marcus took a deep breath. “I’m gay, Jamie.”
“I know.” They existed in the sharp, crystalized moment together, Marcus’s heart going from a wild thunder to a steady beat. All the while, Jamie stood across the counter and anchored him with his constancy. Marcus was a ship tied to Jamie’s moor.
At least until Jamie sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide. “Oh Jesus, where did that feather boa around your neck come from?”
“What?” Marcus’s hands flew to his neck and found nothing, Jamie’s laughter taking a few ticks to penetrate. “You think you’re funny, do you?”
“It was pretty funny.”
Jesus, Marcus hadn’t been this light in a long time. Maybe ever. There was a rush of tingles coasting up and down his skin, his neck felt loose. The smile wouldn’t leave his face. He’d said it. He said the words out loud and the world was still standing. “What do we do now?”
Jamie lifted a shoulder. “What do you want to do?”
“For today…I don’t know if I’m ready to do more than say it.” He reached for courage. “What step comes after that?”
“I don’t know. There’s no guidebook, Marcus.” Jamie scrubbed at the back of his neck, measuring him with a guarded look. “Listen, I’m going out with Kurt on Friday night. Why don’t you come with us?” Marcus’s heart dropped straight down, through the floorboards and hurtled toward the earth’s core, but somehow Jamie kept talking and time marched on as usual. “He can bring some friends and we’ll all just hang out. You’ve got yourself psyched out over some wild, alternative lifestyle and you’ll see, Marcus, it’s just like hanging out with me.”
“You’re going on a date, Jamie?” Marcus managed.
“I’m willing to downgrade it from date to hangout so you’ll come with me.” Jamie exhaled hard. “Maybe…I don’t know, maybe there will be someone there that’s able to do what I can’t for you. Take it slow. Keep things undercover.”
A war broke out inside of Marcus. One side was trying to be mature and take the death blow like a man. The other side was losing its shit. No. No no no. Jamie Prince didn’t get to go on dates. Other men did not get to spend time with Jamie Prince. They didn’t deserve him. What if they tried to touch him? Worse, what if Jamie wanted to be touched by someone that wasn’t Marcus? Jesus. Christ. It was totally possible. It could happen. No, it would happen…
Unless Marcus stepped up.
Unless he grew into the skin that suddenly felt nine sizes too small and became what Jamie needed. It had never been more apparent that if Marcus stayed in the closet, he’d have to let Jamie go. Oh fuck, he couldn’t do that. Jamie was going on one date and already, a noose was tightening around his throat.
But Marcus trusted Jamie. If Jamie thought spending time with other men who shared his preferences would help the fear of exposure subside, then he would do it. Maybe he’d learn a way to be Jamie’s man. No, he had to learn. The only other choice was losing Jamie.
“Marcus, I’m proud of how far you got today. I’m proud of you.” Jamie paused while that sank in—and it did—from the top of Marcus’s head down to his feet. “There will be other opportunities like this. Whenever you’re ready. You don’t have to rush into anything—”
“I’ll go.”
After a beat, Jamie nodded once. “You’re sure?”
Even if watching Jamie on a date was going to be absolute torture, sitting home and wondering what the hell was going on would be far worse. Plus, he didn’t like Jamie riding the train alone at night, not that he would say it out loud and piss the guy off.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Marcus attempted a smile, but it felt sickly. “Wherever we’re going, it’s not going to beat Monster Jam.”
Jamie’s lips jumped at one end. “Nothing can beat that.” When the silence stretched too long, Jamie picked up his shirt and came out from behind the counter. Static climbed Marcus’s spine as Jamie passed behind him on the way to the door. “See you, Diesel.”
Marcus swallowed hard. “See you, Jamie.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Their train hadn’t even arrived in Brooklyn yet and already the whole night felt wrong.
First of all, Marcus had shown up at the LIRR station to meet Jamie looking and smelling incredible, which had thrown Jamie off. Big time. Seriously, it wasn’t even cologne that wafted across the train seat and made Jamie’s groin tighten. Just shaving cream and laundry detergent and the beer Marcus had probably downed for courage on his way out the door. Until now, Jamie had been the sole keeper of Marcus’s secret. But his sexuality wouldn’t be a secret when they met up with Kurt and his friends tonight.
It also wouldn’t be a secret that Marcus was…available.
Jamie was bringing a hulking, suntanned muscleman out tonight and essentially dangling him like a carrot in front of other single men—and…why? Why was he doing this again?
Marcus wasn’t ready to have a relationship out in the open. Not with anyone.
And that’s what Jamie needed.
He’d been out of the closet for a long time and he wasn’t going back in. Not even for Marcus. The man didn’t mean to make Jamie feel like an embarrassing secret, but he did. So they were going to be platonic friends. Jamie would help Marcus through this awkward time in his life, because dammit, he cared about the big jerk. In the meantime, Jamie couldn’t put his own happiness on hold. Not for someone who might keep to the shadows indefinitely.
Even if he couldn’t seem to make it a full five minutes these days without replaying that kiss on the boardwalk. Jesus, had anyone ever kissed Jamie like that? A soul kiss. That’s what it had been. A once-in-a-lifetime, movie-quality, wrecking ball of a kiss.
If he wasn’t thinking about the kiss, he was playing back conversations with Marcus.
I bet you say, “this is a one-time thing, Randall Jennings the Third” and give them bored eyes, but you would probably give them the chance again, because you hate giving bad grades.
I don’t know much, but I know Jamie Prince.
Apparently even better than Jamie knew himself.
“You look nice,” Marcus said, speaking for the first time since they’d met in the train station and walked in a
two-man funeral procession to the platform, tickets in hand. “I was going to wear a T-shirt, too, but I wasn’t sure if I should have my tattoo visible.”
Jamie glanced over. “Why?”
Marcus pulled up the sleeve of his long-sleeved gray Henley to reveal his forearm. “I don’t know. Doesn’t it just make it obvious how confused I am?” His attention fell to Jamie’s mouth and the air between them grew heavy. “I mean, how confused I…was.”
Friends got hard-ons for each other, right? “You don’t have to cover up anything about yourself,” Jamie said in a hoarse voice, his lower body reacting painfully fast to the hungry way Marcus looked at him. “You wouldn’t be Marcus without that tattoo.”
“Yeah.” He flexed the muscle that made her dance. “I got this with my brother in the spring. He, uh…he’d been kind of nagging me to bring a girl home. Still is.” Marcus shook his head. “The tattoo only bought me about a week of silence on the subject. Not really worth having it for a lifetime.”
“You could add some clothes,” Jamie suggested. “Or throw in a robe and a baby and tell everyone she’s the Virgin Mary. Then you’re just being a good Catholic.”
Marcus laughed, breaking a smidgen of the tension between them. “My brother got a tattoo that day, too. On his chest. It says Honor.” His smile dipped. “He’s not a bad guy. Neither is my father. They’ve just got this idea of tradition and they think everyone should stick to it. Stick to their idea. Baseball, babies, Sunday dinner, finding a wife so you can complain about her at poker night. That’s the dream for them and they want me to have it.”
“My dad was like that, too,” Jamie said. “We never told him. About me.”
“No?”
Jamie shook his head. “It wasn’t a formal decision we made. It was just for the best. He probably would have found some way to take it out on my mother.” He cleared his throat to get rid of the discomfort creeping into his chest. “I’m actually…glad he didn’t know. I’m glad he didn’t get a chance to decide that part of me is ugly.” A humorless laugh left his throat. “Jesus, I’m really making a good case for being out in the open.”
“Actually, it’s kind of helping. Right now, the future is this huge blank spot. I don’t even know enough to imagine what could happen.” He scratched the back of his neck and Jamie caught the scent of menthol and hops. “I’m sorry it didn’t happen the way it should have for you. But after everything, you turned into Jamie Prince.” He sent a lopsided grin in Jamie’s direction and Jamie tried not to be obvious that his heart was lodged in his mouth. “We should all be so lucky.”
Oh fuck. I’m going to kiss him.
Mistake or not, he didn’t have a choice.
Jamie wet his lips and Marcus’s eyes darkened. They leaned in—
And the wheels of the train screeched, the conductor’s voice coming over the loudspeaker to announce their arrival at Atlantic Terminal. They both breathed heavily into the scant space separating their mouths, but surprisingly, Marcus was the one to pull back. He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaled and stood, edging past Jamie to the aisle. Jamie followed, feeling like he’d been hit in the back of the head by a metal bat.
They walked in silence to the Lounge, a gastropub in Greenpoint that Jamie had picked because he thought Marcus would be comfortable there. There were flat screens on the wall playing sports in the front bar area, but they also had a pretentious cocktail list and clustered couches in the back. The best of both worlds. Kind of like Marcus.
Jamie tried to center himself as they walked through the busy establishment. The gastropub was an eclectic mix of Brooklynites. Sitting at the bar, there was a date between two women taking place. Beside them, young professionals sipped pints, still wearing suits and ties from their downtown Manhattan jobs. College students filled in the gaps, talking loudly to be heard over the music. The bartender signaled Jamie. Jamie pointed at the back of the bar and they were waved through the black drape that sectioned off the lounge.
The character definitely changed as soon as they were on the other side of the curtain. Grew darker, more intimate. Jamie battled the impulse to drag Marcus back out onto the street. For one thing, Marcus was frowning with his body turned in toward Jamie, like a hired bodyguard. Second, he could see the pulse in Marcus’s throat jumping around in a scattered pattern, so he knew the bluster was all for show. The guy was nervous. Maybe he’d suggested this hangout way too soon—
“Jamie. Hey.”
Jamie turned to find Kurt approaching and sensed Marcus tensing. “Hey Kurt.”
They gave each other a hesitant one-armed hug and Jamie stepped back, uncomfortable over even that small gesture in front of Marcus, which boded really fucking well. “This is my friend, Marcus.”
Kurt put out his hand instead of going in for a hug, correctly interpreting Marcus’s mood. “Hey,” Marcus said, clearing his throat hard. “It’s uh…nice to meet you, man.”
Jamie glanced over at Marcus in surprise. Marcus raised an eyebrow back at him. I’m trying, mouthed. For you.
Heart rattling in his ears, Jamie followed Kurt to the low couches where his friends were seated in a darker area lit with flickering candles. There was one man slightly younger than Kurt…and another guy who appeared much younger and wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Everyone shook hands and Kurt gestured for Jamie to sit down—in a spot on the opposite couch from Marcus. Jamie and Marcus stared at each other for a heavy beat and they took their seats, watching each other across the stainless steel block serving as a table.
“So, I hope you don’t mind,” Kurt said, sending an affable wave at the waitress. “I kind of read between the lines when you called and asked to bring your friend.” He nodded subtly at the younger man sitting to the left of Marcus. “My nephew, Adam, is in a similar situation and I thought they’d be made comfortable in each other’s presence. He’s not ready for anything serious, but I thought maybe they could form a friendship?”
Jamie gave a jerky nod, but his mouth had gone dry. Stop, asshole. This is what you wanted. He’d brought Marcus along for exactly this kind of interaction. There was virtually no pressure and Kurt’s nephew was in the same boat. Struggling. Marcus could probably benefit from meeting Adam more that he could benefit from spending time with Jamie.
“Did I overstep?”
Kurt had obviously misconstrued Jamie’s silence for disapproval, so he shook his head. “No, I think that was a great idea.”
But five minutes later when Marcus and Adam starting talking, a chord of jealousy was plucked in Jamie’s stomach and it resonated, growing louder. Louder. He tried to focus on his conversation with Kurt—something about Long Beach real estate prices—but every few minutes, Marcus would glance over at Jamie with an unreadable expression and he’d lose his train of thought.
Needing to do something proactive so he wouldn’t ask to speak to Marcus outside and wear the fucking face off him with a kiss, Jamie ordered a round of drinks from the waitress. When he normally would have drunk a beer, Jamie put away a tumbler of whiskey in short order and asked for another one. Was it his imagination or had Adam and Marcus moved closer on the couch?
He was so preoccupied with what was happening on the other side of the table, Jamie barely noticed when Kurt laid a hand on his knee, without breaking stride in their conversation. It was almost conspiratorial, friendly, and Jamie was too focused on the proximity between Adam and Marcus to react. What was a hand on the knee when his stomach felt like it was being twisted in a fist?
From the opposite couch, Marcus’s eyes snagged on Kurt’s hand and his big chest heaved once. Twice. He plowed his fingers through his dirty-blond hair and stood abruptly, his shins hitting the coffee table and rattling the drinks.
The waitress arrived with their next round, blocking Marcus from view. With his labored breathing echoing in his ear, Jamie waited, waited for her to move, so he could see Marcus again. But when she moved after what felt like an hour, he was gone. Marcus was gone.
“Hey,” Jamie shouted above the music, lunging to his feet and dislodging Kurt’s hand in the process. He pointed at the empty spot beside Adam. “Where did he go?”
Adam’s laugh was uncomfortable, probably because Jamie was yelling like a lunatic. “He asked me to give you this.” Adam held out a fist full of crumpled money that somehow Jamie knew belonged to Marcus. Even before Adam said, “He wants you to get a cab home. No train, please, he said.”
Jamie was hollowed out in one scoop.
Marcus had left.
“Fuck. I have to go. Sorry,” Jamie said, already jogging toward the bar area. If he hurried, he would catch Marcus. He had to catch him. His abrupt departure couldn’t really be over Kurt putting a hand on Jamie’s knee?
Oh yes, it could. It absolutely could. This whole night had felt wrong because he’d brought Marcus out in the company of a man who was interested in Jamie. Adam had potentially shown the same kind of interest in Marcus.
They’d sat there and watched each other attempt connections with other people—and it had been…wow. So shitty. If Jamie thought being kept a secret made him feel slimy, nothing compared to tonight. Sitting across from the man he’d fallen for and letting another man touch him, even in the smallest capacity. All while watching Marcus try. For him.
“Idiot,” Jamie gritted out, hating himself. “You fucking idiot.”
Jamie let out a sound as he burst out onto the street, frantically scanning the sidewalk in both directions for a giant in gray, but Marcus was nowhere. He was gone. Panic beginning to set in, Jamie shoved the money he was still holding into his pocket and took out his phone to call Marcus. It went straight to voicemail.
“Goddammit.” Jamie pulled up the Uber app and ordered a car, inputting Marcus’s building as the destination, instead of his own house. The ride seemed to take a million years and the entire way, Jamie couldn’t stop his brain from replaying the scene at the bar over and over. Marcus visibly shaken at the sight of Kurt’s hand on his knee, ripping at his hair. Leaving. God, Jamie couldn’t even imagine how upset Marcus would have to be to leave him in Brooklyn. He didn’t even like him being on the opposite end of the beach.
