He lay with his head on Rick’s chest, listening to his heartbeat slow back to normal. He’d never been closer to anyone. As tentative as the situation was, he couldn’t imagine trusting anyone more. Wanting anyone more.
The bottom fell out of his stomach. Could he give Rick what he’d asked for? The alternative was some guy he’d known a few months, groping hurriedly in a dorm room—his desire threaded with fear, not knowing if the guy would stop if it hurt too much.
Rick would be slow and careful. He’d put Jordan first. The truth was, he wanted this as much as Rick did. There was no point in waiting.
He took Rick’s hand and kissed his palm. “Tonight.”
“Tonight, what?”
“You can fuck me. But you’re going to have to wine and dine me first.” He grinned.
Rick bit his lip. “I don’t want to pressure you.”
“You’re not. As sappy as it sounds, I want you to be my first.”
Rick kissed him. “Only if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” Even as he spoke the words, apprehension swirled in his stomach. If he gave himself to Rick so intimately, how could he ever let him go?
***
Rick stroked Jordan’s arms, wanting to stay in bed forever. He tried not to get his hopes up about tonight, knowing Jordy might change his mind. Just holding him like this gave him a pleasure he’d never known before.
The sexual play between them was surprisingly natural. He had worried it would be weird or awkward, but it wasn’t. Jordan seemed utterly relaxed about their games—Jordan, who had always known he was gay. He was at peace with his sexual identity. Rick didn’t know what to think about his own. After all, he’d never been attracted to any man except Jordan, but he’d been attracted to lots of girls.
“What do you think it means that you’re the only guy I’m attracted to?”
Jordan squeezed his hand, then rose and headed to the kitchen. He cracked a couple of eggs into a mixing bowl. “Do you want to go kayaking this morning?”
“Sure.” His eyes followed Jordan. Why had the question made him run? His face was hidden—like he was deliberately keeping his back to him.
Jordan added the milk and the pancake mix. Rick got up and approached him, wrapping his arms around Jordan’s waist, his front to Jordan’s back. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re a shithead.” Jordan whisked the batter, then ladled it into the hot skillet. The butter sizzled.
“Why?”
“I don’t go around lusting after other guys either, you prick. You’re the only one I want. Does that mean I’m not really gay? No. It means I’m in love with you.”
Jordan flipped the pancakes.
He pressed his cheek to Jordan’s temple, nuzzling the soft blond hair, breathing the scent of shampoo and musk. His teeth nibbled Jordy’s ear, tasting the soft sweetness.
“Please stop,” Jordan said, his voice thick. He slid the pancakes onto a plate, then spread a new layer of butter onto the pan.
Rick pulled away. His jaw tightened. “You want me to say it?”
Jordan poured two pools of batter into the skillet.
He grasped Jordan’s arm and turned him around. “I’m in love with you. If I’ve learned anything the past twenty-four hours, I’ve learned that.”
Jordan’s eyes glistened. “If I don’t watch these pancakes, they’ll burn.” He turned away.
Rick hesitated a moment, then retrieved some clothes from his bag. He slid on his briefs. The ache in his chest deepened each second. He slipped a gray T-shirt over his head and zipped up his denim shorts.
He got out the maple syrup and some silverware, setting them on the table.
“Can you watch these pancakes while I get dressed?” Jordan asked.
“Okay.”
Jordan didn’t make eye contact while he went to his duffle and rifled through it to find his clothes. Rick watched the pancakes until they bubbled, then flipped them.
When the pancakes finished cooking, he slid them onto a plate. He set the food on the table. Jordan, now dressed in a blue tee and khaki shorts, got out the milk and two glasses. Rick stood facing him, and Jordan finally met his eyes.
“Don’t tell me you love me again, okay? I can’t take it.”
“But it’s true.”
“It doesn’t change anything.”
He kissed him hard, but tightness gathered in his throat. Jordan was right. Talking about love would only make it harder when they had to say goodbye.
Chapter 7
The kayak glided through the lake, silent. Jordan, in front, watched for hawks and herons. On shore, the leaves of the dogwoods already showed a red blush.
The sun approached the apex of the cloudless sky. The breeze touched his skin, cooling him. He drew the oar through the water, pulling hard, driving them forward. The physical exertion helped block his thoughts.
He pictured himself at Princeton, at a gay club, trying to meet someone who wasn’t desperate for company and acceptance. He knew he was good looking, fodder for predators. And he wouldn’t have Rick watching out for him anymore.
This shouldn’t be so hard. He’d been in love with Rick on some level for as long as he’d known him. He’d realized in tenth grade that it wasn’t just friendship. He was used to this dull ache, wanting something he could never have. Except now, maybe he could have it after all.
What if he transferred to Penn State? They had a good architecture program, and it would save his uncle a butt-load of money. Would it really matter, in the long run, if he didn’t get an Ivy League education? Would it matter more if he gave up Rick without a fight?
Rick was nowhere near ready to relinquish his illusion that he could have a wife and kids and a perfect suburban life. Rick, the most popular kid in high school, was not going to begin his college career by coming out as a queer. Jordan’s tug on him was physical and emotional, but the intellectual part of him would be harder to reach. Rick could rationalize his way out of anything.
He’d always been like that, mentally manipulating inconvenient facts. He could talk his way out of detention, talk the coach into believing he hadn’t really been late for practice. He was so persuasive that he came to believe his own bullshit. Jordan was the only one who saw through it.
He wasn’t about to transfer based on a hope. It could be months—years even—before Rick accepted the truth about his sexuality. He couldn’t hang around pining after him. He needed to live his own life. Being away from Rick—forming an identity without him—would be good for him. They would see each other on breaks, maintain that bond of friendship, and if Rick came around, he would be there.
Or not. Maybe he would meet someone else, a man who filled his heart with something other than the pain of unrequited love. He didn’t want to give Rick up. But he might not have a choice.
The stretch ached in his arms and abdomen from pulling the oars. He was ready to go back to shore, and he knew Rick was, too. But Rick would never admit being tired. He’d wait for Jordan to say something first, or else he’d do something stupid, like—
“Tree stump!” Jordan yelled. “Turn left.” He paddled hard with his oar on the right side of the kayak, but they kept heading straight for the stump.
“Right side!” Jordan called.
“You said left.”
“I said turn left.”
They grazed the stump, and water rushed in.
“Sorry,” Rick said.
“Asshole.” His blood pulsed, heating him, and he ground his teeth. Now they had no choice but to head to shore. This was typical Rick—making a boneheaded move without thinking through the consequences. He could have overturned the kayak. Rick was always taking chances, and putting Jordan at risk in the process.
“Guess we have to go back to shore now,” Jordan said.
“Are you mad?”
“Just paddle.”
“Okay.” Rick didn’t argue, just exhaled a deep sigh.
The sad sound melted Jordan’s anger. He
loved Rick too much to let him feel bad.
After beaching the kayak, they handed the oars and life vests over to the attendant at the rental kiosk. They headed to the little outdoor shower situated between the beach and the parking lot. Jordan took off his tee. Wearing only his swim trunks, he got under the water, letting it flow over his hair and body, washing away the sweat. The bracing water chased away the heat of the August sun.
He stepped out, and Rick took his turn under the shower. Jordan shook off the water droplets. He turned to Rick, who looked good enough to lick, water caressing his hard pecs. Still, he wasn’t letting him off that easily.
“You hit that stump on purpose.”
Rick splashed him, grinning. “You said left.”
He smacked Rick’s ass hard. Rick’s vanity, his refusal to admit weakness, was oddly endearing. It was part of the bond between them.
He dried off and put on his tee. Rick did the same. Jordan couldn’t stop looking at him, tall and slim, shoulders broad and strong.
His heart twisted. “You’re my best friend.”
“Always.” Rick fist-bumped him.
For now, it was okay, the not knowing. As long as they were friends, they would figure it out.
***
At lunchtime, they pulled into a sandwich shop they’d been to once before. As they strolled across the asphalt parking lot, Rick’s forehead wrinkled. Mulling over the events of the past twenty-four hours, Jordan guessed. Like he’d been doing. A lot to absorb, but even more so for Rick. He reached out and squeezed Rick’s hand. Rick turned his way and smiled. His heart ballooned, secure that Rick’s feelings hadn’t waned.
They entered the shop. He massaged Rick’s fingers.
A white-haired man in a plaid shirt approached. “I’m sorry, but this is a Christian establishment. We don’t serve your kind here.”
The corners of Rick’s eyes crinkled. He stepped toward the man. “What kind would that be? Star athletes? College students?”
“You know what I mean, goddamn it.” The man’s voice rose. “This here’s private property. Get your faggot asses outta here ’fore I call the police.”
“Did you learn that language in church?” Rick asked. “You took the Lord’s name in vain. Haven’t you heard of the Ten Commandments?”
“I already told you twice, faggot. You’re trespassing.”
Jordan glanced around the room at the faces of the other patrons, some flushed with eyes averted, others pale and staring. He took Rick’s hand. “Let’s go, babe. He’s the one losing a sale.” To the customers, he said, “Sorry to have disturbed your meal.” As he and Rick walked out, he said to the proprietor, “God bless you, sir.”
As soon as the door closed with a jingle behind them, Rick was on his smartphone, walking and keying at the same time. He guessed what Rick was doing. He pulled out his own phone and opened the Yelp app.
He and Rick had been through these scenes a couple of times before, but with Jordan alone as the target. Once when they were juniors, they’d passed a couple of freshman in the hall at high school and heard the word “Faggot.” Rick had turned instantly.
“What did you say?”
He was inches from the freshmen, in their faces, the school’s starting quarterback staring down two kids who weren’t shaving yet. “You owe my friend an apology.”
Jordan tried to scowl, but the expressions on the kids’ faces were comical. They looked like they were ready to piss themselves.
One of them murmured, “Sorry.”
“I didn’t hear you,” Rick said.
“Sorry,” the kid said, louder.
“Apology accepted.” Jordan offered his hand, and the kid shook it limply. He and Rick turned and walked away, laughing and joking like nothing had happened.
He slid his phone back into his pocket. He’d played good cop to Rick’s bad cop for as long as he could remember. Once he left for college, he would have to fill both roles. His instinct was to avoid a confrontation. But if he was pushed, he’d stand up for himself. Rick had taught him that.
A young woman exited the restaurant and came running up to them, a man following slowly behind. “I’m sorry that happened.” She pushed a strand of long, chestnut hair behind her ear. “We canceled our order and left. I won’t give my business to an asshole like that.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Appreciate the support.”
Her companion caught up, a thick, tatted arm flexing as he slid on his sunglasses. “Sorry, dudes, that was not cool, what he did.”
Rick smirked. “That’s okay. I just gave him a one-star review on Yelp for losing his temper and swearing at customers.”
“Good idea.” The woman smiled and took out her smartphone.
Chapter 8
Rick remembered another sandwich place a half mile away. It was mostly a general store, but it had a few tables, and the food was good. He pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car. As he and Jordan headed toward the entrance, he took Jordan’s hand.
Jordan paled. “Are you sure—”
“I won’t let some asshole change my choices.”
Jordan smiled and squeezed his hand.
The woman at the register rose from the stool where she sat. Her short, wispy hair was streaked black and white. She wore square glasses on her round face. “How can I help you boys?”
“Still serving lunch?” he asked.
“The kitchen’s open another ten minutes.”
He looked over at Jordan, whose eyes were scanning the menu board. “See anything you like, babe?”
“I don’t want anything fancy. Roast beef with provolone on a hoagie roll,” Jordan said to the woman.
“And I’ll have a ham and Swiss on rye. Unseeded if you’ve got it.”
“Sure thing.” The woman disappeared into the kitchen.
“That wasn’t too painful,” Rick said.
“Still, we should pick our battles. No point being reckless.”
He nodded. He was a hypocrite, insisting on being open about Jordan with strangers, but terrified anyone at home would find out. How would it change people’s perceptions of him? It wasn’t just people like that asshole at the café. How would his buddies on the football team react? What would his parents think?
And Cyn. She’d be crushed. They weren’t even officially broken up. If she found out that not only had he been with someone else, but it had been Jordan…No. He had to protect her from that. After everything they’d been to each other, everything she’d put up with from him, he owed her more than that.
The woman emerged from the kitchen. “Can I get you boys some drinks? The iced tea is fresh brewed.”
“Sounds good,” he said.
The woman filled the Styrofoam cups. She set them on the counter and pressed on the lids. “You two make a cute couple.”
“The guy at Mountain Grill didn’t think so,” Jordan said.
She chuckled. “Don’t let Morton bother you. He’s the unhappiest man I ever met, and wants everyone else to be as miserable as he is.”
“Any more like him around here?” Jordan asked.
“A few. If you’re looking for a nice gay-friendly restaurant, try Mia Kristina’s. Mia’s the cook, Kristina’s the manager…and yes, they’re a couple.”
“Lesbians in rural Pennsylvania,” Jordan said. “Who’d have imagined?”
“It’s a resort town,” the woman said. “We get lots of artistic types around here.”
Jordan turned to him. “Are you an artistic type?”
He grinned. “I’m going to major in business.”
Jordan laid his hand on his. “Then I could open a design firm, and you could run the business end. Just like Mia and Kristina.”
The idea made him ridiculously happy. He could picture them at thirty, working together, free to make their own choices with no one to answer to. Could this be his future?
They found a table. The woman brought their sandwiches and headed back to the register. Jordan reached over and
brushed his arm. “Thanks for not freaking out at the diner.”
“I’m not ashamed of being with you. It’s just…complicated.”
“This is new to you. I get that.”
He massaged the heel of his hand. “If I told my parents I’m bi, how do you think they’d react?”
Jordan shrugged. “Hard to say. They’ve always been cool with me, but I’m not their son. I mean, it’s not like they’d kick you out or anything, but…”
“It’s not what they expect of me.”
“They’d get over it.”
“Yeah.” He shook his head. “The kids at school…”
“We’re not at school anymore. The people we considered friends—we’ll never see half of them again.”
“They’d laugh if they knew. They’d think less of me.”
“Welcome to my world.”
He rubbed his temples, fighting off a headache. “How do you deal with it?”
“I have no choice. But you do.”
Did he? He shook his head. He and Jordan fit in a way he and Cyn never had—that wasn’t a choice.
He didn’t like where these thoughts were leading. He couldn’t base his entire sexual identity on these two experiences. He’d been attracted to girls since third grade, and to Jordy for six months. Something didn’t make sense. He wasn’t about to abandon everything he’d believed about himself until he figured this out.
It was ridiculous, thinking he had to work this out now. He knew what Jordan wanted, but this wasn’t just about Jordan. If he made a commitment before he was ready, it would only be a matter of time before he rebelled against it, hurting Jordan even more.
“I’m sorry I can’t be what you want.”
“Maybe you can, in time. And if not, we’ll always have this weekend.”
“Is that enough for you?”
Jordan shrugged. “I’m not going to pressure you, and I’m not going to beg. I can get over you if I have to. I just don’t want to.”
He didn’t want to, either. But if a straight lifestyle was still an option for him, he wasn’t ready to give that up.
***
After they finished eating, Rick went out to put gas in the car. Jordan wandered up and down the aisles. Cereal, granola bars, cookies, crackers. Bread, peanut butter, jelly. Was there a health and beauty aisle? Bumblebees buzzed in his stomach.
Seducing Jordan: A Second Chances Novella Page 6
