by Leta Blake
“It was. I didn’t know anyone in the city at the time, so I was by myself. It was an intense thing to see alone. I had no one to talk it over with.” He smiled, his teeth shining in the low light from the streetlights along the square. “Thanks for letting me tell you about it now.”
“No problem, man. Happy to listen.” And maybe a little aroused by the depravity.
Joel let go of Casey’s hand as they immersed themselves into the nighttime of Market Square. The revitalized downtown center was alive with Christmas shoppers and kids eager for their turn on the small outdoor skating rink set up every year just after Thanksgiving until the second week of January. Luckily, it was a cold December. Some years, when the temperatures were in the sixties or even the seventies, the ice had to be put down every hour, and even then it was often covered in an inch of water within minutes.
Tonight the weather was a sweet, chilly forty-two, and while it was far from cold enough for snow to stick, it wasn’t so warm the ice rink was a puddle either. Casey stayed close by as they walked around the square slowly, taking in the scents of the restaurants and glancing in the decorated windows of the stores. Piped Christmas music from the speakers stacked around the rink bounced off the low buildings and sent “Jingle Bell Rock” ringing out all around the square.
“So, Tomato Head or Tupelo Honey?” Casey asked after they left the oldest store on the square: Earth to Old City. It’d been there since Joel was a little kid, and he remembered his mother taking him inside to smell the handmade soaps. He’d spent some time smelling them tonight, thinking of her, while Casey explored small tea sets, mumbling something about still needing a Christmas gift for his aunt Courtney.
“Whichever,” Joel said. “You choose.”
“No, you decide. I wasn’t sure which you’d like better, so I made reservations at both. And I’m not picky either way.”
“Well…” Joel confronted the reality he’d somehow avoided thinking about while he’d gotten ready for their date and up until this exact moment. How was he going to pay for dinner? He didn’t have the cash, and the idea of not paying his own way felt wrong. “I’m not that hungry. So you choose. I’ll probably just have water.”
Casey shook his head. “No, no. It’s a date. I asked you out, and I’m going to pay.”
“I said I wasn’t hungry.”
“You also said you went down on Ally Cartwell and that she was a real blonde.”
“That was in high school. What does that have to do with dinner?”
“Eating.”
“Oh, good lord. Fine. Whatever. I’ll let you buy this time, but I get the next meal.”
Casey’s face broke open with his smile. “So we’re doing this again?”
“How else are you going to unlock the date where you’re allowed to ask me hard questions?” Joel rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you watched any movies? Read any books?”
Casey jerked his head toward the corner of the square across from a gaudily decorated Urban Outfitters. “Tupelo Honey, then. They make a mean rosemary lemon drop. I used to steal sips of my mom’s.”
“Girly drinks? Really?”
“Don’t be a sexist, Joel. You’ll lose all the credits from your self-taught liberal sociology course and then what’ll happen? Besides, I thought you’d come so far since you used to throw girls’ reputations under the bus for your social gain back in high school.”
“Fine. I’ll have two rosemary lemon drops in penance. Okay by you?”
“If you get drunk, can I still kiss you?”
“I won’t get drunk.”
“Aw, so what does that mean?” Casey raised a coy brow. “I can’t kiss you?”
“Don’t act all desperate for my honey now. I like a man who plays hard to get.”
Casey guffawed. “Right.”
“Fine, jerk.” Joel’s pulse went wild. “You can kiss me.”
Casey’s eyes drifted down to Joel’s mouth, and he licked his lips. “Later. When I can do it right.”
Then he grabbed Joel’s elbow and steered him toward the welcoming lights of Tupelo Honey.
Joel did get drunk, and Casey loved drunk Joel so much he thought his heart was going to escape from his chest and go running screaming with joy down the middle of Gay Street. Why had they never experimented with alcohol when they were kids? How had he not known that Joel was adorable like this?
“Yeah, so I said to Angel—my employee—I said to her, that’s—well, that’s the thing, right? I said you have to be ready to willy, I mean, really…” Joel lifted up the second empty rosemary lemon drop glass and stared at it. “Whoa. Talking is hard. What did they put in this? Straight alcohol?”
Casey held back on ribbing Joel about his opinion on girly drinks now. “Dinner should be here soon, and that’ll help sober you up.”
“Good thing you’re driving,” Joel muttered.
They were settled in a small booth in the middle of the crowded restaurant. Jazz renditions of Christmas songs played discreetly, the brassy tone of saxophone and trumpets soaring overhead, backed by a cheery snare drum.
“This is a good one,” Joel said, cocking his head. “My old man used to play this at Christmas back when my mom was alive.” He hummed a few bars of “The Christmas Song.” “Dexter Gordon Quartet. He’d twirl her around. Call her his doll. It’s one of my few memories of her.”
Casey said nothing. In high school, Joel had almost never talked about his mother and hardly ever with the soft smile he was wearing now. Joel closed his eyes, and the song slipped around them, muffled by the sounds of conversations.
“This is nice,” Joel said, opening his eyes and smiling crookedly. Casey’s heart skittered and leapt to see that smile again. “Even if I am drunk on girly drinks.”
Casey reached out to take Joel’s hand, but just then the waitress delivered their plates.
After she confirmed they were satisfied with everything and walked away, Joel leaned over the table and whispered, “This is the Smoky Mountain Pork Infused Roll?” His outraged words were delicious with drunken sibilance. “What kind of place asks this kind of money for what amounts to a barbecue sandwich?”
“But wait until you taste it. It’ll be so good.”
“Hmmph.” Joel frowned but took hold of the sandwich, trying to capture the messy insides before they fell out on his plate, and took a bite. “Oh. Well. How about that,” he said softly, closing his eyes and moaning the way he had when Casey had brought the sweet potato casserole over all those years ago.
Casey swallowed, blood rushing south and fattening his cock against the inside of his pant leg. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” Joel whimpered, licking his lips as his eyelashes fluttered. “Good God.”
Casey bit into his lower lip, eyes trained on Joel, dying for him to take another bite.
Joel did, and the symphony of his pleasure was just as good the second time.
“So how is everything?” the waitress asked, swinging by to top off their water and check in. Her black hair was piled on her head in a topknot, and her blue eyes sparkled cheerfully.
“Great,” Casey answered, his voice breathy even to his own ears. He hoped she didn’t look in his lap because the way the front of his pants were distorted by his hard-on wasn’t entirely hidden by his napkin. “Perfect.”
“You didn’t taste yours,” Joel pointed out after she walked away again.
Casey glanced down at his plate of fried green tomatoes and Atlantic salmon and couldn’t remember why he’d even ordered it. He could easily feast off the sounds Joel made when eating and be completely satisfied. “Right. I’m sure it’s great, though.”
“Come here a lot then?”
“No, not since high school. This actually is my first time back in Knoxville since I left.”
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
Casey shrugged. “Being around my parents confuses things for me. I think more clearly when I’m away from them. But New York is lonely, so when they asked me to co
me down for the holidays this year, I caved.” He sighed. “I’m not comfortable though. Nothing feels right at their house. In some ways, I just want to get back to my apartment in New York, but that doesn’t feel like home either.”
Joel appeared to consider what Casey had said for a long time. “I get what you’re saying. I like the property my place is on, but living in a trailer was never my dream.” He shrugged, wiping his mouth with a napkin and then taking another bite. After he’d chewed and swallowed, he said, “It’s better than an apartment, though. I have my own space. Bruno’s got land to run on. No rules or regulations about what I can and can’t do and, best of all, no upstairs neighbors.” Joel smiled. “Becca wants to murder the people who live over her. She swears they have family bowling tournaments on their wooden floors.”
“Does Becca still drum?”
“Sometimes. She plays with a butch dyke group now and again, the token femme, I guess.” Joel’s eyes softened, and he seemed to cast back to an earlier time. “Did you know my dad thought Becca was my girlfriend? That was one of the reasons he let us have the garage for the band. That and… Well, there were a few other reasons too.”
“I thought it was because he was the only parent who wasn’t actually home in the evenings since he had to work at Vreeland’s until it closed most nights.”
Joel smirked. “That helped too.”
“Do you still play bass ever? You were good.”
“I was okay,” Joel agreed fondly. “But I didn’t really love it. Sometimes I play around on electric guitar with Becca just for fun, but it’s been months since I touched the thing. I sold my bass guitars. My writing takes up most of my free time, and I like it better in terms of a hobby that pays.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t have to rely on anyone but myself. A band requires cooperation. I had no idea how good our little group had it—you know, how well we got along—until it was over and I started playing with some other local bands for fun. Talk about a nightmare. Infighting, jealousy, posturing. It was exhausting. I was happy to step away.”
The rest of their meal went by easily enough, their conversation having turned to memories of old times. The “whatever happened to so-and-so?” topic took up the better part of an hour and by the time the waitress asked if they’d like dessert, Joel had entirely sobered up.
“I’m good,” he said, shaking his head. “Really, you’ve spent enough.”
Casey didn’t give a rat’s ass about the money, but he still wanted to go ice-skating, and he figured he’d save the fight for the entrance fee on that instead. “I think we’re finished. I’ll take the check when you’re ready.”
The waitress nodded, and Joel excused himself to the restroom. Casey fished out his wallet and paid the bill while he waited for Joel’s return. The music had changed to a particularly well-done jazz rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” and he wondered if it was the Dexter Gordon Quartet, too. He’d have to ask Joel.
He couldn’t get over how easy the date felt—how right. When he’d been with Theo everything had seemed like work. Conversation never flowed. The jokes hadn’t tripped off his tongue. He’d never been sure of what to say, or even who he truly was when he was with Theo. Hell, even the fucking had felt like work, what with Theo being a demanding bottom who always acted like Casey just wasn’t trying hard enough.
But everything with Joel was easy. Even when he was being a grouch or acting like he didn’t really want Casey around, it was easy. Casey knew what to say and how to say it. He knew who he was and who he wanted to be when he was with Joel. And he knew that deep down, underneath the sometimes-dismissive gruffness, Joel absolutely felt the same. He had to. There was no way it could be so easy for Casey and be hard for Joel.
Speaking of hard for Joel, he couldn’t help but wonder if the kiss he’d been promised would lead to more. If it did, he’d take his time, make it good. It was an honor to think he might get to be the first person to ever be with Joel like that. Casey wanted to make it perfect for him. Special.
“Ready to go?” Joel asked, standing by the table with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, the colored lights strewn around the ceiling reflecting on his face and his arrow-shaped mouth lifted up in a gentle smile.
“Yeah. Let’s go.” Casey rose and followed Joel through the crowd by the bar and out the front door to the cool night on Market Square to find more fat snowflakes falling all around.
Lo and behold, some of them were sticking.
Chapter Twelve
“I said I’d watch you skate.” Joel frowned at the ice skates Casey thrust at him.
“And I ignored you.”
“You do that a lot.” The two of them sat on one of the benches around the rink.
“Only about things like this.” He’d never ignore Joel when it came to something serious. But ice-skating? He knew Joel wanted to go, deep down inside.
“We should probably have a come to Jesus about consent at some point,” Joel said, lifting a brow. “Especially if you’re going to kiss me again later.”
Casey grinned. “I promise to honor every single ‘no’ or ‘stop’ you utter in that context. Swear on my soul.”
“You better,” Joel grumbled, crossing his arms and looking away toward the popcorn machine by the food trucks.
“I swear.”
Joel nodded and then moved back to the topic at hand. “These people are extortionists. Twenty bucks to rent the skates and three dollars for a bag of popcorn? Insane.”
“Come on. Skate with me.”
Joel snarled his lip. “I don’t know how.”
“Oh.” Casey’s tummy flipped over. Joel was always adorably irritable when he was insecure. “Well, it’s… I’m not going to lie and say it’s easy. But you can hold on to the side, and I’ll stay with you. You can lean on me.”
“That’ll look gay.”
“Shocking.”
“Yeah, well, this is Knoxville, not New York. Believe me, it’ll be plenty shocking.”
“Look.” Casey nodded at two young men wearing baseball caps and what appeared to be fraternity sweatshirts under their jackets. They skated near each other, clutching arms now and again to keep from going down. They laughed and tugged each other along. “If bro-dude frat boys can get past their internalized homophobia to have a little fun, so can we.”
But Joel wasn’t done resisting yet, apparently. “I’m not going to be shown up by little kids.” He jerked his head toward a posse of children zooming around like they’d been born with skates for feet.
“Yes, you are. And it’ll be okay. Just put the skates on. Take two turns around with me, and if you hate it, then we’ll go.”
Joel snorted, but bent down to kick off his shoes. He glanced around at the glowing lights and dangling gold stars in the trees around the square as he tied on the skates, muttering under his breath, “Fucking Christmas.”
“You don’t like Christmas?”
“I don’t like how it’s got me feeling all…” He made a face and motioned toward his chest.
“All what?”
“All hopeful. Like this means anything tonight. Like this isn’t just some holiday hookup for you with a bonus trip down memory lane.”
Casey crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t do that.”
“What?”
“I’ve taken you on a romantic walk, wined and dined you, and now I’m asking you to ice-skate with me under the stars. Don’t ruin our romantic date by calling it a holiday hookup. I already told you that I’m not into hookups.”
Joel grimaced. “I just hate that maybe I want more.”
Casey knocked him with his shoulder. “Maybe I do too. And maybe this is another ‘not appropriate for a first date conversation,’ but I’ll forgive you since hearing that you want more is music to my ears.”
“You were always too easy to please,” Joel muttered, finishing up his laces. He heaved himself to his feet, and Casey h
ad to grab his arm to keep him from going down. It was going to be impossible keeping him on his feet on the actual ice if he couldn’t stand on the mat-covered floor. “Let’s go bust my ass, I guess.”
Casey led him toward the ramp up to the rink, his heart thumping hard. Joel’s bicep flexed under Casey’s grip, and he remembered the tattoos he’d glimpsed. Later, he’d find a way to ask about them. Maybe he’d get to see them, even.
After he’d gotten that kiss Joel had promised.
He’d been right, of course, and Joel grumbled as his ass hit the ice before they’d even reached the wall for him to hold on. Kids skated past, but none of them did more than shout, “S’cuse me, mister!” as they swerved to miss hitting him.
“You okay?” Casey asked, looming over, an annoying smirk playing on his lips as he reached down to try to haul him up.
Joel’s feet skidded and slipped, and he almost pulled Casey down on top of him. But somehow he gained his feet and the wall at the same time. He gripped it with both hands, wondering how he was going to ever get back off the ice because every time he shifted his feet, he nearly went down again.
Christmas music played over the speakers surrounding the rink, and children zoomed by, along with adults who clearly had experience with ice-skating.
“It’s okay,” Casey soothed. “I’ve got you.” He held Joel’s arm firmly and didn’t seem to have any trouble keeping himself upright on the ice.
“You better,” Joel said, panting with the effort to stay standing. “I’m going to blame you for every bruise on my butt, just so you know.”
“Now you’re just flirting.” Casey laughed. “Are you trying to turn me on imagining your naked ass?”
Joel huffed, but his cheeks heated, and his cock pulsed with a rush of arousal. “Shut up.”
“All right, just try to move one foot slowly in front of the other. You’ve got this.”
Casey encouraged and tugged, held and supported, until Joel moved gradually along the wall with barely any help at all. He was still afraid to let go for more than it took for him to get past the opening in the wall where the ramp connected to the rink, but by the time he’d made it around three times without falling, he was pretty pleased with himself.
