Five Fake Dates

by D. J. Jamison

  5

  Date 4: Date, what Date?

  Adam

  I woke in the predawn light, unsure of what woke me, but I was sweating. Heat blanketed my back. West’s arm rested over my waist, his fingers tickling the hairs just above my boxer briefs and precariously close to my morning boner. At the same time, I clocked the matching erection pressed up against my ass.

  Omfg! West is hard and touching me.

  My brain blew a circuit. That’s the only explanation for what I did next. I pushed back against him. My hips took on a life of their own, rocking so that my ass slid up and down the length of his cock. Until he made a soft sound and his fingers twitched on my belly, between my rucked up T-shirt and my cotton underwear.

  I froze, not even breathing, as my heart hammered. Oh, shit. What am I doing? Is he awake?

  He slid his hand down, ghosting his fingers over the tent in my briefs. His voice was just a whisper against my ear. “Can I—”

  “Please,” I said urgently, though I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what he was about to say.

  His hand closed over my cock, feeling out its shape through the fabric, and my eyes rolled up in my head. If that weren’t enough to blow my mind, he pressed his erection harder into me and brushed his lips over the back of my neck. Instinctively, I squirmed against him, rocking between his hand and his dick, and he moaned quietly in my ear.

  I was overheated when I woke, but now I felt as if I’d go up in flames. Heat rushed over the surface of my skin, enough to consume me and obliterate all rational thought. When West tugged up my T-shirt, muttering “take it off,” I didn’t hesitate to whip it over my head. He removed his hand from my cock, skating it up my stomach to my nipples. He rolled my right nipple between his fingertips and sucked my neck, and I had to turn my head into the pillow to quiet the sounds that spilled from my lips. Desperate, I grabbed for my cock, and he caught my wrist, pulling my arm up and wrapping it around the back of his neck. I realized he was levered up, looking down the length of my body. Then, while I watched in a lusty daze, he pushed my underwear down.

  Cool air kissed my cock, and his warmth bathed my bare ass cheek. My heart stuttered, but the scratchy fabric told me there was still a barrier between us, even though I was now mostly naked, with my briefs down around my thighs. I glanced down at my body, feeling a new bloom of heat at the idea that West was seeing my long, slender frame taut with tension, nipples red from his playing and skin a pale creamy white in the silvered light of dawn. My cock stood out from my body, slender but long, quivering for attention.

  Does he like what he sees? I think he does.

  Memories from the night before, West’s admission that he’d been confused since our first kiss, began to seep into my consciousness. My pulse raced as the truth sank in: West wants me too.

  West’s thumb skated over the head of my cock, smearing precum, and I shoved my face back into the pillow as a jolt of pleasure made me cry out. He traced around my cockhead, then slid his hand down my shaft, enveloping me in tight warmth. He jerked me roughly, not attempting to find lube, but I didn’t mind. I’d jerked off plenty times without any supplies, and this was West. He could touch me any way he liked, and it’d feel good.

  He kissed across my shoulders. “God, Adam,” he murmured against my skin. “You’re so…”

  I didn’t know what I was. In the next moment, he grabbed my hair, yanking my head toward him, and kissed me. It was awkward and messy as he pressed his tongue into my mouth, groaning. Memories of that kiss from the party slammed into me. West’s mouth against mine, his tongue playfully skillful even when drunk, no reserve or hesitation holding him back. We hadn’t kissed so deeply, so wetly since that night. All our other kisses were dignified by comparison. But this was… filthy. West’s deliciously dirty enthusiasm hadn’t been the alcohol, after all. He was just as into it now, kissing me hard while he tugged my cock and rocked his hips against me.

  The enormity of what we were doing hit me. The image of us tangled together, my body bare to him, his hands and mouth on me. Holy fuck, we’re—

  Coming.

  The orgasm sideswiped me. I was awash in mounting tension one moment and spilling over his fingers, sobbing against his mouth the next. He tightened his hand in my hair, keeping me against his mouth, as he thrust against me. Our messy lips slid against each other. We were both beyond actual kisses when he grunted and shuddered. I was still quivering in the aftermath of my climax so it took me a minute to realize that West had come too. We’d come together.

  He released my softening cock and his grip on my hair, allowing me to face forward. Then he pressed his forehead between my shoulder blades. He didn’t say anything, and it made me incredibly nervous. What if this was too much, and he regretted it?

  “West?” I asked, my voice shaky. “What did we just do?”

  His breath gusted against my skin. “We just had date number four.”

  Hysterical laughter got trapped in my throat. I wheezed. “You’re not serious.”

  West chuckled. “Adam, we had sex. What do you want me to say? I liked it.” He paused. “I sincerely hope you did too, or I did something wrong.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He edged back, tugging my shoulder to urge me to turn toward him. When I did, his light blue eyes ensnared me. “You’re not upset?” he asked cautiously.

  “No, but what does this mean? You’ve spent so many years wanting Han—”

  He slapped his hand over my mouth, his cum-soaked, sticky hand. I flinched back.

  “Oh, Jesus, sorry,” he said with a choked laugh.

  “Gross,” I uttered, swiping at my face as West continued to snicker. I found my T-shirt laying beside me and flung it to him, then jerked up my underwear, feeling self-conscious. I’d bared everything to West, and he’d remained clothed. It left me feeling vulnerable. What the hell were we doing this summer?

  West used my shirt to clean his hand. When he looked up at me again, his expression was sheepish. “Sorry to run off, but I have to get to work. I’ll be back for Date 5.”

  I blinked at him.

  “Your parents’ anniversary dinner at Bliss Island is tonight, right?” he checked. “I’m your Plus One.”

  “This fake dating thing…”

  West pressed a quick kiss against my lips. “I meant what I said last night,” he said, “but, uh, I’d like to finish what we started. But just so we’re clear: Hannah is a non-starter for me. Even if you decide after our final fake date that you don’t want to continue whatever this is…” He trailed off, smiling nervously. “I’ve chosen the Miller sibling I want. It’s you.”

  Be still my fucking heart. I never thought I’d hear these words out of my best friend. I didn’t know how to respond.

  He slid out of the bed, dressed in boxer briefs and T-shirt. I’d seen him without a shirt. I’d even seen his cock a time or two, but never hard. Still, I wanted to rip off his clothes, play with his nipples, and jerk on his cock. Maybe suck him until he lost his mind. Instead, I laid there, boneless, as he grabbed his jeans and tugged them on. There was still a blood stain on the collar of his T-shirt.

  “If you don’t want to go home, you can borrow a shirt,” I offered. It’d be tight on him, but it would work in a pinch.

  “Thanks, but the dickhead should be at work by now. I’ll be fine to grab a shower and some clothes.”

  Ngh. West in the shower. That was something I wanted to see. Would I get the chance now? Did sex once mean sex again? He wasn’t freaking out that I could see, but I didn’t know what was happening inside his head.

  “See you later,” he said. “I’ll call you if I need to crash here again. I’ve got to talk to my mom and see…”

  “Sure, whatever you need,” I said, just barely resisting the urge to beg him to return either way. I wouldn’t mind another night in bed with West, maybe with both of us naked this time. But it’d probably be better to have an adult conversation and make sure we were
on the same page about what we wanted from one another. West was new to intimacy with a man, and though he’d jerked me off like a pro, I didn’t really know what was happening inside his head. Maybe he’d still change his mind, decide I had too much dick to be the love of his life. And let’s face it, I didn’t want to settle for anything less than an epic, all-consuming love.

  He kissed my cheek before turning to tug on his shoes and leave the room.

  Whatever happened in the future, West had wanted me once. I crossed my fingers and my toes that he’d want me again. I never would have guessed when West brought up fake dating that it meant something very real could be brewing between me and my best friend, but I was sure as fuck glad it did.

  6

  Date 5: Marital Bliss — whoa, not for us. Are you nuts? Marital bliss for Adam’s parents. Obvs.

  West

  Adam looked nervous. And beautiful. But mostly nervous.

  I could relate. Despite all the kisses, all the near love confessions, and the really fucking awesome sexy times in his bed, there was still all kinds of uncertainty hovering around us. Uncertainty I hoped to put to bed today, right before I put Adam to bed again.

  We hadn’t talked much since I left his house this morning. At the end of my shift, my mother had been waiting to talk, so I hadn’t been able to return to Adam until time to leave for Bliss. She’d asked the dickhead to spend a few days at his house, and we’d had a long, heart-to-heart about his views and the fact that he was insulting my closest friend in the world every time he opened his mouth. Mom had understood, but she hadn’t really understood, not until I told her that I might soon have a boyfriend, if Adam agreed. She’d been shocked, and it hadn’t been an easy conversation, but it had been cathartic. In the end, she’d agreed to have a talk with Roger. I didn’t hold out a ton of hope he’d have some come-to-Jesus moment just because I was bisexual, but Mom promised that if he was going to be in our house, he would respect me and the people I loved, or he wouldn’t be welcome in our home. I really hoped she was able to follow through on that, but only time would tell.

  In the meantime, Adam sat beside me, so close I felt his body warmth. Any doubts I’d had about my bisexuality had been lain to rest once I’d had Adam’s dick in my hand and the full length of his naked body stretched out for my eyes to devour. I’d loved looking at him, feeling him. My cock started to stiffen at the thought, and I shifted on the seat of the Bayliner cruiser as it bounced across the ocean. I stretched out my left arm behind Adam, my fingers just brushing his left shoulder, as I tried to find some semblance of the cool mofo I wanted to portray to the world—or at least to Adam. I might be nervous too, but I’d rather he didn’t see it.

  On Hannah’s other side was the date she’d brought, a surprisingly grungy guy in ripped jeans and a band T-shirt. I’d dressed nicer, but after Adam’s teasing, I’d learned my lesson. Instead of wearing something that would make me look sexy, I’d focused on dressing for the occasion and the weather, wearing navy blue shorts and a light blue short-sleeved shirt.

  Hannah gazed at her date, fully infatuated, and I felt nothing. No longing or jealousy. I was fully over my childish crush, and ready to move on with the right Miller sibling for me.

  “She met him at the beach. I guess he surfs,” Adam said, noticing my attention on Jax. “Probably won’t last past the summer.”

  I sensed the unease in his words. I’d told him this fake dating wasn’t about Hannah—but about him—but it took more than a few words to lay to rest a truth that had been between us a long time. I didn’t regret a lot in my life; mostly, I think chalked up my mistakes to life lessons. But right now, I kind of wished I hadn’t tried that serenade outside Hannah’s window. The skateboarding disaster I could live with, but singing in public? Ugh. And putting that expression on Adam’s face? The worst.

  I leaned in, lowering my voice so Hannah wouldn’t hear. “Better him than me.”

  His breath caught, and he turned wide, awestruck eyes on me. “You mean that, don’t you?”

  I wanted to kiss him, but this wasn’t the right setting, considering we were surrounded by his family. I settled for catching a strand of his hair dancing in the wind, tucking it behind his ear. “I do,” I said. “This is technically Fake Date Number 5, but I want it to be the most romantic fake date you’ve ever had.”

  He chuckled. “More romantic than the top of a Ferris wheel?” he teased.

  My stomach clenched, remembering how angry he’d been that I’d stolen his perfect moment from him. “I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have horned in on your dream date. I should have created my own.”

  He shook his head, lips tilted up in a tempting smile. “West, I’m happy to share my dreams with you, so long as I know we’re sharing them.”

  I could read between the lines. He was subtly scolding me for using this fake dating scenario instead of being upfront and honest. I was lucky he hadn’t been angrier about my deception, but I hadn’t been ready to lay out all my cards. I’d needed these dates to affirm the truth I’d been harboring in my heart: Adam Miller was the guy of my dreams.

  Adam

  Bliss Island was like many New England islands, with a rocky shoreline, a forest of evergreens, and a lighthouse on its southernmost tip. It was pretty cool to be stepping onto a private island, though. Outside of the people who lived and worked here, it would just be our friends and family here on this little rock in the ocean.

  The weather was perfect. Mom was grinning like a loon, practically floating on air as she teased my father, saying that this was so much better than the little courthouse wedding they’d managed at age twenty-two. Dad’s parents hadn’t approved of his relationship with the daughter of a stripper. Yeah, I know. My grandma was a stripper! Not everybody can say that. Thankfully, I’d only seen Grandma Gemma with her clothes on, but she did have some amazing fashion advice she shared with me after I came out as gay at fifteen. It was pretty awesome to have someone so accepting in the family, because dad’s mother, Audrey Miller, had found it somewhat distasteful to have one of those in the family. She’d never spewed any hate my way, just wrinkled her nose any time the subject came up. Luckily, Mom and Dad themselves had been supportive as hell. They acted like it was no big deal, and I’d always felt free to be myself. Which is why I felt so awful for West right now. He’d lost his dad at a young age, and now he had some homophobic jerk to deal with—and right as he was coming to terms with a bisexual attraction? It was a lot.

  I’d desperately wanted to beg him for some clarity after he’d left this morning. I was pretty sure we were on the same page. The mutual orgasms had helped a lot with my doubts about West’s sexuality. But there were still plenty of questions to ask, like: What now? What does he want from me? What do I want from him? Okay, stupid question. I wanted everything. But what if he didn’t?

  But West had enough worries without me pressuring him for answers before he was ready to give them. He’d promised we’d have an amazing final date and really talk about what the heck we were doing, so I was trying to be patient.

  A handsome man with thick dark hair and designer stubble met us on the pier, introducing himself as Caleb Taylor, owner of the resort. He shook my father’s hand and embraced my mother as if they were old friends before escorting us to the mansion. We’d arrived ahead of the larger party of guests, which would include grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, as well as some of my parents’ co-workers. The sun was just setting, and the view over the ocean was spectacular. It hung over the horizon, dipping lower and lower over the horizon, sending ripples of light across the dark blue water.

  We stopped at a gazebo, with the ocean in the background, to take some photos. The resort had a photographer on staff who was super sexy, with sandy colored hair and a wicked smile. Dang, this place was full of hot men. I glanced at West to see if he’d noticed, but he was watching me. Damn if that didn’t send warm tingles rushing through my body.

  We were shown to a large ballroom, fi
lled with round banquet tables covered in white tablecloths and accented with vases full of fresh flowers, mostly daisies, because my mother loved them. Appetizers and champagne flowed freely as guests began to arrive—though West and I were stuck with cider, being underage—until the formal dinner was served.

  Once we were all seated, caterers brought out succulent dishes: lobster bisque for a starter. I cut a glance at West. “Don’t try to impress anyone. The hospital is more than five minutes from here.”

  “Ha-ha,” he said as he waved away the soup.

  I kept him supplied in crackers until the next course was served, and when he musingly wondered out loud if it’d be safe to kiss me after I ate shellfish, and if lobster counted as the same kind of shellfish as oysters, I pushed away my bowl and guzzled half a glass of water. He smirked at me. “Damn, you must want to kiss me bad.”

  “You have no idea,” I muttered. “This dinner is killing me. I just want to get you alone and—”

  “Not so fast,” he teased. “We have to finish our date before I’ll put out.”

  I shushed him, glancing around nervously. “I wasn’t going to say that.” I could feel my cheeks flaming. “I want answers, West, and you’re going to give them to me.”

  He shivered a little. “Bossy. I like it.”

  The next course arrived before I could respond, which was just as well. I was hot enough under the collar without flirting any more with West. Flirting! I felt like I was in an alternate universe right now. We’d been given a choice on this menu item, so while I enjoyed flavorful baked salmon, West received a plate with a filet mignon, roasted red potatoes, and delicate asparagus. We ate without talking much, working our way through the main course while toasts were made to my parents, congratulating them on twenty-five years of marital bliss. It was unfathomable to me to imagine being with one person so long. Most of my dates hadn’t lasted much beyond one night, to be honest. But looking at West, my best friend since third grade, it wasn’t so hard to imagine him in my life twenty-five years from now, or even fifty. I knew without a doubt that I wanted him beside me always, even if only as a friend. But would I have that if we dated, or would we implode in a few weeks or few years and end up hating one another? That thought was unbearable.