by DJ Jamison
Jesse smiled, shaking his head at Aidan’s explanation. “You’re not hard to like, Aidan. Not for me.”
“Okay. Good.”
“And you can still love baseball and your stats. I didn’t understand when you said it was more than a hobby, but I get it now. It’s a lot more than that to you.”
Aidan nodded. “It was, but I forgot my notebooks at the hotel.”
He had all the data recorded before the World Series on his computer. It wasn’t like he couldn’t track down the World Series numbers from another source, either. But Aidan was starting to think maybe forgetting his notebooks had been a sign that he should try for a fresh start, one where those notebooks weren’t so much a part of him they felt like an extra limb.
“Wait here a minute?” Jesse asked. He held up a finger as Aidan nodded and then ran back around the bar. He disappeared through a door marked staff only. Aidan fidgeted as people moved around him, laughing and drinking. He felt out of place. He took a minute to look around.
Men danced with men. It was a gay bar. And there were beautiful guys here. Guys with muscles that gleamed with sweat under the lights. Slim twinks with pretty hair and prettier eye makeup. Bodies that moved more gracefully than Aidan could ever manage.
He looked down at his khakis and polo. He stood out as an imposter. He noticed a couple of young guys watching him and laughing.
What was he doing? Jesse fit here. He wasn’t dressed in his more flamboyant clothes, like on their trip, but he looked good in his dark jeans and snug T-shirt. He was the sexy stranger from the baseball games. How had he forgotten that?
Jesse couldn’t possibly want Aidan for a boyfriend. He was a Josh. He had sex with Aidan because he was convenient. But he was surrounded by convenient guys, more beautiful guys. Normal guys. Aidan could never live up to any of that.
He cast one last glance behind the bar. Jesse had returned, but he’d stopped to talk to a handsome man with fiery red hair and broad shoulders. The guy had a hand on Jesse’s bicep, and Aidan felt disappointment tighten his chest.
He laid the two World Series tickets he’d bought for Jesse and Gramps — apology tickets — on the bar and asked the other bartender to pass them on. Then he pushed his way back toward the door.
***
Jesse glanced over his shoulder impatiently as Phil continued to talk about the special drink they were introducing, as if it was a fucking Nobel Prize-worthy event instead of a fruity cocktail. But then the guy was an amateur drinkologist, so this was his passion.
“Then, you add the pomegranate juice, and then … Hey, are you listening?” Phil asked.
Aidan was gone.
Jesse pulled free of Phil’s grip and scanned the groups of people crowded around the bar, but there was no sign of Aidan. He could have drifted farther into the club. Maybe he was on the dance floor. Not likely. Or the bathroom. Maybe.
Or maybe he took off.
“Where are you going?” Phil asked as Jesse hurried around the bar. Once again, he was making his manager unhappy, but this was just a job. He could always get another. There was only one Aidan.
“Yo, Jess!” the other bartender, Rickie, called. He waved something in the air.
Jesse approached, feeling impatient. “What?”
“Guy left these for you. Two World Series tickets. Cool, huh? You gonna take me?” Rickie batted his eyes.
“Yeah, no. Did you see where he went?”
“Who?”
“The guy who left the tickets!”
Rickie shrugged, and Jesse barged into the crowd. He didn’t waste time searching the club. He knew deep down that Aidan left. What he didn’t know was why. Their apologies seemed to have been going well. He shouldn’t have left Aidan there in the crowd without making sure they were on the same page. He’d wanted to make his damn grand gesture.
He clutched Aidan’s notebooks tight as he slammed the door open and ran out to the sidewalk. Looking both ways, he spotted a Saab parked down the block. He broke into a run.
“Aidan! Wait!”
He waved the notebooks over his head, hoping to catch Aidan’s attention. When he reached the Saab, he bent and looked through the windows. It was empty.
“I didn’t leave,” Aidan said from behind him. “I just needed some air, and to think. There were so many men there. You don’t really need me, do you? I misunderstood everything.”
Jesse turned, reaching out to touch Aidan’s arm. “No, you didn’t. I don’t need you, maybe, but I want you.”
“You do?”
Aidan looked so adorably puzzled that Jesse had to kiss him. Just a brief peck to the cheek since they were on the sidewalk. He gestured to Aidan’s car. “Can we get in?”
Aidan nodded, pulling out a key to unlock the passenger door and open it for Jesse.
“Such a gentleman,” Jesse teased as he slid inside. “Thank you.”
Aidan blushed. “You’re welcome.”
Jesse put Aidan’s notebooks in the backseat while Aidan circled to the driver’s side. He wanted his hands free for this next part.
“So, where are we going?” Aidan asked when he’d sat down and closed his door.
“Nowhere.”
Aidan turned to him, lips parted to ask another question. Jesse slid a hand around the nape of his neck and pulled him close. Aidan released an unsteady breath as their lips paused inches apart.
“I want to kiss you,” Jesse whispered, “if that’s okay.”
Aidan’s breath hitched. “It’s okay.”
Their lips brushed, and warmth flooded Jesse’s system. Not the searing heat of lust, though there was a simmering desire that could easily be worked up to a boiling point. This was something different: the warm and fuzzy feeling of genuinely liking the guy he kissed.
He traced Aidan’s bottom lip with his tongue, eliciting a soft sound of pleasure from the man, and then deepened the kiss. Aidan’s hands slipped into his hair, pulling slightly. Jesse explored Aidan’s mouth, but it wasn’t long before Aidan took charge of the kiss.
Jesse wasn’t surprised. Aidan was assertive in bed. The man knew what he liked and how he liked it. Nothing wrong with that. He almost smiled when Aidan’s grip tightened and his tongue surged into Jesse’s mouth.
When they broke, they were both breathing hard.
“You’re sure?” Aidan asked. “I’m a bag of quirks. I’m selfish. Sometimes, I can be a real dick.”
Jesse laughed. “You really know how to sell yourself, huh? Well, I’m an artist who floats from job to job and will probably never settle into a career. I’m impulsive and sometimes I’m insensitive to what matters most to others.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not, and that reminds me: I have something for you.”
Jesse reached into the back seat and retrieved the notebooks. Aidan’s eyes widened when he saw them.
“You have my notebooks.”
“I want you to do what makes you happy,” Jesse said. “I saw these in the hotel when I packed up, so I grabbed them for you. I know I was a jerk about all this, and I’m sorry. If it’s important to you, that’s good enough for me.”
Aidan took the notebooks from him with far less enthusiasm than he’d expected.
“I’m glad to see them, but maybe it’s time to let this be a hobby and not such a big part of my life.”
Jesse heard a shadow of grief in those words. He hated the thought that his reaction had caused Aidan to question his passion.
“Only if that’s what you really want. Please don’t let anything I said ruin your passion.”
Aidan nodded. “It’s not what you said. It’s the thinking I did on the way home. I think it’s time for me to let it be a passion, but not an obsession, if you know what I mean. I don’t know if I can do it after all these years, but I want to try.”
“Okay,” Jesse said hesitantly, still worried he’d tarnished something Aidan treasured. “Well, that’s my grand romantic gesture. Not quite as grand as I’d hoped.�
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Aidan looked confused by that, so Jesse added. “I wanted to show you that I support you, no matter what, and I like you as you are.”
Aidan surged forward to press a quick kiss to Jesse’s lips. “I like you, too. And you’re not the only one making gestures.”
Jesse’s eyebrow lifted. “The World Series tickets? You didn’t have to do that.”
“I want you to go tomorrow, with Gramps. You said he couldn’t really afford the St. Louis game ticket, so please let me do this. I’ll be there too. We can have fun, no mathematical formulas necessary. I don’t even have to write down my stats.”
“No way, you have to do what you love,” Jesse said. “Don’t change for me.”
“I’m not. I’ll always love numbers,” Aidan said with a small smile. “They’re more reliable than people. But they’re not always what I need them to be. I learned that during our trip.”
Jesse moved a hand to Aidan’s thigh and squeezed. “Okay, then.”
“Plus, there are other numbers I’d like to examine right now,” Aidan said.
“Oh yeah, like what?”
“Like counting the freckles on your shoulders,” Aidan said, slipping a hand up to caress one shoulder. He tugged Jesse’s T-shirt slightly to expose his skin with a few scattered freckles. “I’ve wanted to do that since we met.”
Jesse, feeling bashful under Aidan’s admiring gaze, bantered back. “Counting the number of times I can make you cringe with impulsive, unplanned activities.”
Aidan chuckled. “Yeah. Not to mention counting the number of gorgeous men you’re turning down to be with me.”
Jesse brushed his fingers through Aidan’s hair. “You’re gorgeous too.”
Aidan’s face squished up. “I don’t see it.”
“But I do. And I’m hoping together, our favorite math can be as simple as adding one plus one.”
“Oh?”
“One plus one. Just you and me.”
He kissed Aidan, feeling rather proud of himself for accomplishing a math analogy. Their lips caressed softly and when they parted, Aidan had to one-up him. Of course.
“I’d rather think of us as pi. Transcendental.”
EPILOGUE
Six months later
“Twenty-two, twenty-three ...”
Aidan’s breath whispered across Jesse’s skin as he trailed his tongue from one freckle to the next as he counted.
“Twenty-four.”
He pressed a kiss to the final dot in a small spray over Jesse’s shoulders.
“You done?” Jesse asked, his tone amused even as he pretended to be bored. In front of him, a sketch pad lay open with his latest design he was drawing for the tattoo shop where he’d started apprenticing a few weeks after they got together.
“With that spot,” Aidan said, before sliding to the right and down to wiggle his tongue against Jesse’s hip.
“Oh, fuck!” Jesse gasped with a laugh. “Enough playing connect the dots.”
Aidan kissed his skin and lifted his face. “So, how’s the art show coming?”
Jesse had taken a job as a tattoo artist to use his artistic talent to pay the bills, but he hadn’t given up painting. The two art forms were different enough Jesse still had creative energy to paint and sell his work through fairs and small art shows. He’d stopped shying away from believing in his art, but he didn’t want the pressure of making a living from it, and Aidan could understand.
Once, he would have said he would love to make a living running numbers through simulations to predict the outcome of games. After his crushing disappointment during the World Series, he realized he had invested too much heart and energy into something he couldn’t master because it just wasn’t possible. It would always be a game he’d play, but he’d decided to treat it that way rather than a calling almost religious in nature. He’d once relied on numbers to be his crutch in a confusing world. Now, he let numbers be a fun diversion, always with the knowledge that not even math could solve life’s toughest equation: how to find happiness.
The Royals had won the World Series in the end, and Aidan had enjoyed it most because he’d had Jesse and Gramps to share his excitement. It hadn’t hurt that his analysis had more accurately predicted the outcome of the series as a whole, but he’d had more than just the data to make him happy.
“I’ve finished ten portraits,” Jesse said. “I’m excited but nervous.”
“It’ll be great,” Aidan said. “I saw the one you did of that sexy guy, and it’s a winner.”
Jesse grinned over his shoulder. “Yeah, he is a winner, isn’t he?”
“Total fox.”
Much foxier than he looked in person, Aidan thought, but he was glad Jesse saw him in a flattering light.
“He’s adorable, like a puppy.”
Aidan growled and flipped Jesse over onto his back. “Just for that, I’m counting the freckles on the back of your knee.”
He stuck his tongue out, jabbing at Jesse’s sensitive flesh.
“No, I don’t have ...” He groaned and grasped Aidan’s hair. “How about you count the freckles on my dick instead?”
“You don't have any there,” Aidan said innocently.
“Check again,” Jesse said. “I’ve heard spotted dick is delicious.”
Aidan chuckled against Jesse’s hardening cock. Jesse’s hips bucked, nudging his cockhead against Aidan’s lips, so he gave him a lick and then another.
“It’s like paint by number,” he said suddenly, lifting his head to meet Jesse’s lusty gaze. Aidan loved putting that look in his boyfriend’s eyes.
“Huh?”
“Your freckles. They form a picture just for me.”
Jesse’s lips quirked. “Whatever gets you off.”
“Right now, I’d rather work on what gets you off.”
Aidan lowered his head to lick a line up Jesse’s cock.
While blow jobs didn’t do much for Aidan, he was more than happy to indulge Jesse’s fondness of them. He’d found that giving Jesse pleasure was almost as good as receiving — almost. He still liked to take Jesse’s dick best of all, and luckily, Jesse liked that a lot too. At the moment, he was too sore after a particularly boisterous fuck session the night before, so he knew that Jesse’s encouragement to keep to blow jobs was partly for his benefit too.
After Aidan had satisfied Jesse with his mouth, and Jesse had followed suit with a combo make-out and hand job session to get Aidan over the edge, they lay in bed and talked some more.
“Gramps all set for opening day?” Aidan asked. The baseball season would be starting soon, and Aidan was cautiously excited. He didn’t want to spiral into obsession as he had in the past, and he was hoping that attending the games with Jesse and his grandfather would help keep his hobby in check and remind him he had other good things in his life now.
Jesse smiled. “Yeah, he can’t wait. He’s looking forward to your predictions.”
“They’re mathematical odds. They’re not foolproof.”
“He knows.”
“So do I,” Aidan said. He tightened an arm around Jesse. “Still can’t believe how upset I used to get when the numbers didn’t pan out.”
“Yeah, well. You were counting on them.” He put too much emphasis on the word counting and cracked up.
Aidan retaliated by tugging Jesse’s hair. “You’re lucky I keep all my whips at home.”
“What if you didn’t, though?”
“Didn’t what?”
“Keep your things at home.”
“Jesse, I don’t actually own whips.”
“No,” he said, and stroked a hand through Aidan’s hair. He always did that when he had something serious to say. They’d never discussed it, but it’d become Aidan’s cue to listen carefully. “Aidan, I’m saying, what if all your things were here? I want you to move in with me.”
“But my mother—”
“Can keep the house, and you can still help her with it. Just like I help Gramps. If we combine our inc
omes, you could afford to live on your own and still support your mother, couldn’t you?”
“I guess so,” Aidan said slowly.
Change didn’t come easily to him. When he and Jesse first started seeing each other, he returned to his own home every night. Gradually, Jesse persuaded him to cuddle longer. To rest a while. Before he knew it, he was drifting off to sleep in Jesse’s arms. Once he could sleep in Jesse’s bed, most of his worries about staying over faded away. Now, he stayed there more often than not and even had a few toiletries and extra clothing items for convenience.
A man couldn’t be expected to dress in dirty underwear, or to borrow a pair. He’d been horrified when Jesse suggested he wear a pair of his boxer briefs. They looked good on Jesse, but no.
“We can move your stuff in stages, if you want,” Jesse said, anticipating Aidan’s difficulty with change. After six months, he’d learned a lot about Aidan’s idiosyncrasies and nothing had scared him off yet. “You can still spend a day or two each week over there.”
Aidan kissed him, amazed he’d found someone to put up with him. “I want to move in. I practically live here now.”
“That’s true.”
“We can talk to my mom at Sunday dinner,” he suggested.
They’d taken to having regular meals with his mother and Jesse’s grandfather on alternate days. Aidan’s family had doubled almost overnight, and his social circle — with Jesse slowly introducing him to friends and co-workers — had quadrupled.
“She’ll be happy for you, you know. Your mom worries, but she wants you to live a little too.”
Aidan rolled his eyes. “I’m living more than a little. I’m a perfectly healthy twenty—”
Jesse cut him off with a kiss. He had a feeling Jesse would be utilizing that tactic a whole lot more once they lived together full time. But Aidan could think of worse ways to redirect him.
He brought his hands up and cradled Jesse’s face, giving in to the kiss with a sense of contentment he’d never known.
— Fin —
