“They’re really cute,” I say, and my mind immediately goes to Cameron.
The whole night with Neil, all I could think of was Cameron. It wasn’t a fair comparison in any way, but I couldn’t help it. Neil was super nice and friendly and the conversation flowed easily, but my heart was never in it. I think he knew, too, especially after that kiss. It was nice, but nothing more than that. Not the fireworks I was hoping for, that’s for sure.
“Jax!” Brax yells in my ear, and I realize he’s been trying to get my attention.
“Sorry, I got lost in thought for a sec.”
“Anyone specific you were thinkin’ about?”
As much as I want to, I can’t tell him about Cameron. I’m not ready yet to share something so private. So I opt for a watered-down version of the truth. “I’m trying to date.”
“Oh, awesome. Any luck?”
“Yesterday’s guy was a bit of a bust, but I’ll keep trying.”
“I really need to come visit you sometime,” Brax says, and I frown, wondering about the strange segue from me dating to him coming to visit. Then again, Brax has never been known for making the most logical jumps in his thought process.
“I gotta come check those California girls out,” he adds and that makes more sense. Of course, his mind would still be stuck on something I said five minutes ago.
“Anytime, bro. I’d love to have you here.”
We chat a bit more, and my heart is so much lighter now that I know things are okay between us.
“I’m proud of you, Jackson,” Brax says when we’re about to end our call because I want to start cooking for when Cameron comes home. “I’ve always known you were crazy talented, but I’m so damn proud of you for living your dream. You’re an inspiration to me, you know that?”
I ponder that statement long after we’ve hung up. When I realized I was gay, I waited to tell Brax for a long time, because I didn’t want to corrupt him. Bear with me here, because I didn’t understand a whole lot about being gay back then, like the fact that it wasn’t contagious. That took me a while to figure out, that it wasn’t a choice, like I’d always been told, nor a lifestyle. Nor a sin.
I was scared that by telling him, I’d influence him in a wrong way, maybe upset my parents as well and get accused of leading him on a wrong, sinful path. Not once did I consider I might be an inspiration to him. The thought lifts a cloud off my soul that I wasn’t even aware was still there, and I find myself hoping Brax can make it to LA sometime soon.
15
Campy
I tap on Jackson’s bedroom door and hear the rustling of fabric on the other side. My throat feels tight, realizing he’s naked on the other side of the door. Of course he’s naked, you idiot, he’s getting dressed to go out and find some dick.
“One sec,” he calls and I lean against the wall to wait. When he finally pulls the door open, my mouth goes dry at the sight of him in a pair of tight, worn jeans that hug the muscles of his legs with the familiarity of a lover, his defined abs on full display, complete with a dark happy trail leading down to the edge of his pants.
“Is a button-up shirt too much?” he asks, plucking at the sides of the unbuttoned shirt. It’s all too easy to imagine him slowly undoing each button…or better yet, the feel of the buttons popping as I tear the shirt open while our tongues tangle frantically. “Cam?”
“Huh?” I force my eyes away from his chest and abs, and look at his face. What the fuck is wrong with me? I mean, yeah, the dude is good-looking and he’s a great person, but drooling over anyone, let alone another man, just isn’t me. “Sorry, I was spacing out.”
“I asked if a button-up shirt was too much? Should I keep it more casual?”
“No, I think it looks nice. Just make sure you roll up your sleeves so all the guys out there with forearm fetishes can get their kicks.”
Jackson blinks at me until I snort a laugh, then he shakes his head. “I don’t understand half the stuff that comes out of your mouth.”
“Yes, but one day you’ll be as corrupted as I am, and I won’t get to amuse myself with your adorable innocence anymore, so let me have my fun while I can.”
Jackson deftly buttons up his shirt, and then reaches for his pants, unbuttoning them with deft fingers.
“What are you doing?” I rasp, not sure if I should turn around or enjoy whatever show he’s about to put on.
“I’m just tuckin’ my shirt in,” he explains, doing just that before re-buttoning his jeans. “Sure you don’t wanna come with tonight?”
“You don’t want me there,” I argue. “I’d cramp your style.”
“Nah, you’d be my wingman. Please?”
“You really want me to tag along to the bar so you can pick up men?”
“I keep tellin’ you, I don’t want to pick up men. I want to find someone…special,” he explains, his voice getting kind of misty and wistful. “That sounds so corny, doesn’t it?”
“No it sounds nice,” I assure him, and I mean it. It really does sound nice to have someone special to share life’s burdens with, someone to come home to every night and kiss every morning. It sounds really nice, actually.
“So you’ll come?” he asks again.
“If you’re sure you want me to.”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, give me a few minutes to get changed and we can go.”
It doesn’t take me long to put on some decent jeans, a nice shirt, and add a little gel to my hair so I look presentable. I’m not sure why I even bother with that much, it’s not like I’m the one trying to get laid tonight. But you never know who will see Campy out at the bar and I don’t want to be caught looking like I just stumbled out of bed…at least that’s the reasoning I give myself before one quick mirror check.
“You look good,” Jackson says, his eyes flicking quickly over me when I return to the living room.
“Not as good as you look,” I argue, realizing a few seconds too late how that sounds, but decide backpedaling would be worse than leaving it be.
“Thanks. Ready to go?”
“Ready.”
Redd’s is a lot quieter than Bottoms Up, which is where the guys and I usually go to unwind after a busy week of filming. It’s easy to see why Rebel thought to suggest this place, it certainly has less of a casual hookup vibe than Bottoms Up does and it makes me suddenly immensely glad he found what he was searching for for so long in Troy.
“This is kinda nice,” Jackson comments as we grab a table not far from a couple of pool tables and dart boards.
“It is,” I agree. “I’ll get the first round.”
“Nope,” Jackson argues, waving me back into my seat. “I dragged you out, drinks are on me. Beer okay?”
“Yeah, great. Thanks.”
I watch as Jackson saunters up to the bar, leaning over it and catching the eye of half the men in the place, myself included, as we all memorize the way his jeans mold to the curve of his ass.
While Jackson waits for our drinks, a man approaches him. He’s the definition of a twink— petite, pretty. A bitter taste rises in my throat as I watch him put his hand on Jackson’s bicep and bat his eyelashes. I can’t see Jackson’s face to tell what he thinks about the man. Are twinks even his type?
Finally, the bartender slides two beers across the bar and Jackson takes them. He says something to the twink whose face falls a little before he recovers with a bright smile and watches Jackson walk back in my direction.
“Not your type?” I ask casually as he sets my drink in front of me and then takes his seat.
“Hm?” he makes a curious sound while taking a sip of his own drink.
“The cute guy who was throwing himself at you. You weren’t interested?”
“Oh, him?” Jackson glances back toward the bar where the man is now standing with some friends. “Not really. I usually like bigger guys, closer to my own size. Except…” his cheeks flush and he takes another hurried gulp.
“Except me?” I guess.
“Except you,” he agrees. “Sorry, it’s weird, I know. In my defense, I really did think you were gay when I was droolin’ over you.”
“You don’t drool over me anymore?” I tease with a grin over my glass as I bring it to my lips. Jackson’s blush deepens and he shakes his head but doesn’t confirm or deny whether he still checks me out. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“If I’m not your normal type, what did you like about me? Physically, I mean.”
“Cam,” he groans my name and gives me a can we not do this? look.
“No, I’m not trying to make it weird. It would just be good for me to know what physical attributes of mine I should make sure I’m playing up for the cameras. Maybe one day I can be as popular as Pixie is with our viewers,” I joke, my stomach an odd jumble of nerves as I wait to hear how he’ll answer.
“I dunno. You just have somethin’ about you that kinda drew me in. You’re slim, but a bit muscular still. And…I don’t know, you have a nice…um…you know,” his eyes dart down and then back up and I bite my tongue against laughing.
“Okay, so my body is decent and you like my dick. Is that seriously it?” I’m not sure why, but I’m a little disappointed there isn’t more to it.
“No. It’s hard to explain, I guess.” he shrugs and then finishes off his glass, already looking around for a server to ask for another. “Can I be honest with you about something?”
“Of course.” I find myself leaning forward, across the table toward him.
“I was surprised when you told me you weren’t into guys at all. In the video I saw, you seemed really into it, like really into it.”
“I’m usually thinking about other things to kind of help me out,” I confess, my heart pounding as my mind wanders back to the last scene I filmed with Heart when Jackson popped into my head.
“Oh.” He seems kind of disappointed. “That makes sense. I’m going to get another drink.”
“Okay. Hey, when you get back, let’s see about reeling someone in for you. There are a couple of beefcakes over by the pool tables, we can see if they want to play a round.”
Jackson glances at the two men leaning against the pool table not too far away.
“You’re on,” he agrees.
Jackson
Cameron called them a couple of beefcakes, but that's not how I would describe them. The two men near the pool table are tall, muscled, and casually dressed in shirts and tight jeans. If I had run into them on the street, I probably wouldn't have guessed they were gay.
Cameron is right that they’re more my type, though they might be a little older than I had in mind. They look like they're about my size, with plenty of strength to handle me. Yeah, if I had to make a list of a body type I'd be interested in, these two would fit the bill. And judging by the way they take in my body as I walk over to them, I think that feeling might be mutual. I walk a little taller as a result.
"Hey," I say, suddenly wondering what I'm supposed to say. Do I just invite them to play pool? Is there a requisite amount of small talk I have to make first? Someone really should write a dating guide for new gays, I decide. I could sure use a little guidance.
"Hello there," one of the guys says, giving me another slow, thorough look, ending it with a little wink. "You look positively edible."
I can’t help but smile at that straightforward compliment, voiced in a low, sexy tone with a hint of a twang. "Why, thank you. You ain’t so bad yourself."
His face lights up. "A Southern boy," he says, his accent betraying his own Southern roots a bit more now, though it’s still too faint for me to determine where he’s from. "Where do you hail from?"
"The Texas Hill Country, you?"
"Galveston. How nice to meet a fellow Texan."
I cock my head. "You sound like you've been gone for a while, though."
He sends me a full smile, his white teeth almost blinding. "You wouldn't break my heart right off the bat, would you? I've been gone twenty years, but I still consider myself a Texan."
I whistle between my teeth. "Twenty years? Wow, that's a long time to be away from home."
Wistfulness fills his face. "Don't I know it. Trust me, I hadn't planned on staying away so long, but this town is hard to leave. You'll find that out when you've been here for a while. What brings you here?"
All this time, his companion has been content to merely listen, and since it doesn't seem to bother him, I send him a friendly smile and answer the question. "I'm playing a part in a new TV series. My guess is that's quite a common story here, but that's why I moved to LA. Hoping to make my dreams come true, just like everybody else here."
"Good for you." He extends his hand to me. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Texas. I'm Reed."
I take his hand, returning his firm handshake, then do the same to his friend, who introduces himself as Corey. "The pleasure is all mine. I'm Jackson."
"You're perfect, is what you are," Reed says, sending me another one of his blinding smiles. His flirting is so on the nose, it doesn't even make me feel uncomfortable. At least with him, I don't have to worry about misinterpreting. He's a what you see is what you get kind of guy, and I can't help but admire his balls.
"You here by yourself or is that your boyfriend?" Corey asks, not sounding even remotely Southern. He gestures at Cameron, then narrows his eyes. "He looks kind of familiar. Is he an actor too?"
I'm not sure what to say, unsure if Cameron is usually open about his porn career or not. I think I better let him handle that himself, and I gesture at him to come over.
"Guys, this is my roommate. Cam, this is Reed and Corey."
"You’re one of the Ballsy Boys," Corey says, shaking Cameron's hand. "I thought you looked familiar."
I almost hold my breath. Did I mess up by asking him over? But Cameron sends them an easy smile. "I am. I take it you're a fan?"
Corey and Reed share a look, then burst out in a laugh. "I don't think there is a gay man in LA who isn't a fan," Corey says. "It's a pleasure to meet you, man."
"You guys want to play a round of pool?" Reed asks.
We readily agree, and a few minutes later, we’re having fun, trying to beat each other. Reed keeps flirting with me, and it amuses me to no end. I have no idea if his level of directness is normal, though if I look back on the two guys I met at the beach, maybe it is, but I think it's funny as all get out.
Truth be told, I don't see myself ending up with him in any way, and I think he knows it too, but it sure is fun to watch him flirt with me and to flirt back a little. He feels safe in a way that’s hard to explain. Harmless.
He starts with words, and after a few minutes, he touches me for the first time. It's just a quick hand on my shoulder, then one on my lower arm. I allow it, curious to see how this will progress. He's so good at this that I might pick up a move or two.
It's my turn, and I have to bend over the table to take my shot. It doesn't escape my attention that three pairs of eyes are glued to my ass. Much to my surprise, Cameron's are as well, but maybe he's following the stares of Corey and Reed?
"Hot damn," Reed says. "It's been a long time since I saw someone wear jeans quite like you do. It should be illegal, the way they stretch over your ass when you bend over."
I look at him over my shoulder, sending him what I hope is a flirty smile." You like? Them's just my old jeans, you know?"
He clears his throat. "I never knew a simple piece of cotton could have that effect on me."
He brings his hand to his dick, which is clearly outlined in his jeans, and rearranges it not too subtly. That move is so bold I can't help but smile. It’s a heady feeling, to know that you can impact another man in such a way.
But when my gaze travels from Reed to Cameron, I'm surprised to see anger on his face. Is it too much for him, this blatant flirting? He should be used to it, right? I wonder what's bothering him, but I can't spend too much time on it, what with not wanting to lose a game and keeping up with R
eed’s flirting at the same time.
Corey wins the first game for him and Reed, and we all immediately agree to play another round.
"I'll get us some more drinks," Cameron says and stalks off.
"Someone's got a bee in his bonnet," Reed says, and the idea of Cameron wearing a bonnet is funny enough to make me snicker.
Corey gives Reed a smack on his shoulder. "He's jealous, you moron. Every time you dialed up the flirt, his face got darker."
It takes a second or two for that statement to sink in. Jealous? He thinks Cameron is jealous because Reed is flirting with me? That doesn't make sense at all, and yet at the same time, a sliver of hope fires up inside me. It would explain certain things, wouldn't it?
But no, it seems too far-fetched to even take seriously. Cameron isn't attracted to men, that's what he keeps telling me. Heck, he didn't even wanna come tonight. I practically had to drag him here.
If that's the case, then why does he keep bringing the conversation to such personal topics, like asking me what type of men I'm attracted to? Or what I like about his body? Those aren't the kind of questions a straight guy would ask, now would he? I'm horribly conflicted about all of this, and all I know is that I won't be able to figure this out right now. But Corey certainly has given me food for thought.
“We’re just roommates,” I tell them with as much conviction as I can muster, but Corey’s face shows he’d not impressed.
When Cameron comes back with drinks for all of us. I decide to dial up my flirting with Reed a little as well, just to see how he'll react. I basically copy some of Reed’s own moves, touching him, smiling at him, and letting my gaze linger on his body. Heck, who knew that flirting was so darn easy?
Corey manages to crush us in next game as well, scoring another victore for him and Reed, and they head over to the bar for the next round of drinks. Something tells me I need to be careful with my alcohol intake now. I need to keep a clear head for this.
“I don’t think he’s what you’re looking for,” Cameron says when they’re out of earshot.
Campy (Ballsy Boys Book 4) Page 11
