Rush

  There’s beer left from when Logan was here so before Brand comes out, I call through the sliding screen door, “There’s beer in the fridge if you want one.”

  “Thanks.” His words drift through the house hitting me with this ridiculous sense of shock that Brandon Chase is in my apartment right now. When he called things off, it was like someone carved my heart out of my chest. Yeah, dramatic but true. I knew, when he had the balls to do that, I knew we were done.

  And we still are. That knowledge is in the back of my head. We don’t have a future. I know Brandon. He’s going to work his ass off and he’ll play ball again and he won’t ever come out to his team.

  And yet, he’s here and I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact.

  When the screen squeaks behind me, I lean forward so Brandon can get past me to sit in the other chair, before putting my feet up on the railing. It’s a battle to resist the urge to glance over at him and see what he’s wearing.

  “Burgers on?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see him take a drink of beer.

  “Yep. I got my own special seasoning too. They’ll kick ass and then you’ll regret ever talking shit to me about grilling.”

  Brandon laughs, before nudging my arm. “I was teasing you. You can’t take a joke anymore?”

  This time, I don’t stop myself from looking over. His brown eyes are on me, with what I’ve always thought looks like gold highlights in them. “I can take it.”

  Those highlights look like they were lit on fire. “You’re doing that shit on purpose.”

  “What?” I tease.

  “Fuck you. You’re a guy. You know exactly how my head automatically took that.”

  At that, I laugh. “Sorry if your head can’t handle it.” My eyes dart to his crotch before I stand, ready to flip the food. Brandon reaches his hand out but before he makes contact with my arm, he seems to realize what he’s doing and drops it.

  If we’d been inside, he would have pulled me to him. Those first summers we spent together the touches were less frequent, more nervous. But at the end, when we managed to sneak away so it was only the two of us, we weren’t afraid to put our hands on each other.

  I wonder if it’s like that for everyone. If people in love want to feel the other person all the time like we did.

  Hell, maybe it didn’t mean anything and we were just horny but also too chicken shit to do much about it.

  After flipping the burgers I sit back down next to him. The sun’s getting lower but it’s still hot out. Brand’s wearing another T-shirt and shorts that hang below his knees.

  “Are you embarrassed by your scar?” I ask him.

  “No.” He takes a drink of his beer. “You know me better than that. I’m not that superficial.” Another drink. “I don’t like to look at it. It reminds me of everything—that I could have died, that I’m scrawny as hell now—”

  “You’re not scrawny.”

  “For me, I am. And that I have to work up to do shit I used to do easily. That I could lose football.”

  “Would you really hate to lose it?” As soon as the question comes out, I know it’s stupid.

  “Fuck yeah. Even you would hate to lose it. That means you don’t have a choice. That something was taken away from you. No matter what, Al, you know there’s a part of me who loves to play.”

  And that’s true. It’s his passion.

  “But you don’t feel like it’s a game you’re playing, you think it defines you. I also know as much as you love the game, you hate that piece of it.”

  “It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.” He sighs.

  That’s a lie. He was good at being with me. “What else have you tried?” Pushing to my feet, I say, “I’ll be right back.”

  Inside I pull out the buns before grabbing the tomato slices out of the fridge. There are a few hamburger pickles in a jar so I set them on the counter too, followed by the mustard and mayo.

  Because dishes suck, I pick a few paper plates off the stack and then head back outside. “Forty-five seconds and they’ll be ready to pull off.”

  Brandon huffs. “Got it down to the seconds now, huh?”

  “Watch and see.” When the time is up, I raise the lid off the grill and put the burgers on the plate. “Wait till you taste these.”

  Brandon reaches around me and slides the screen open for me.

  “Thanks,” I mumble before leading the way inside. We make our burgers in the kitchen. I don’t have anything except potato chips to go with them, so I take those out and Brandon nods his head toward them, waiting for me to take a handful out before he does.

  “I’ll grab you another beer.” He opens the fridge and takes two out and then we’re on the balcony again.

  There’s no table but neither of us hesitates to put the plates on our laps. Like an idiot, I wait for him to take a bite before I eat. After he swallows I raise an eyebrow at him and Brandon says, “Okay, so you might be able to barbecue now.”

  “That’s what I thought.” I lean back into the chair to start eating, and I can’t help but feel . . . content.

  It’s dark out now, the porch light above us making it so we can see. We’ve been out here for hours, the only thing either of us has gone inside for is something to drink, take a piss or when I grabbed a shirt to keep the mosquitoes from eating me alive.

  We’ve talked about everything and nothing too. Nothing big, and everything small but the conversation has hardly stopped the whole time. We’ve always been like that. I wonder if it’s because we keep one of the most important pieces of ourselves quiet from the world, so we can’t help but want to talk about everything when we’re together.

  There’s a slight lull in the conversation now and I can’t stop thinking of the fact that we haven’t been like this in years. When he goes back to Ohio, we’ll never be like this again.

  We were together and then the next thing I knew he forced me to walk away from him. One day he was fine and the next they’d cut his chest open to do surgery on his heart. It makes you think. Makes you realize how fast shit changes.

  “I don’t want to spend my summer working with my dad, man. I know that’s messed up but I don’t.”

  “Screw that. It’s not fucked up. I hate the way he is with you.”

  I shrug even though I’m not sure if he’s looking at me. My eyes are forward, looking at the stars Charlie loves so much. “It’s really not that bad. I know he loves me. He’s not abusive . . . just ignorant and outspoken, which don’t go well together.”

  Brandon doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “That’s what stresses me out. I know he loves me. I’m his son and we’ve always been close. It’s just the older I got, when I started to realize I was gay, I noticed more things about him I hated. I did more things he didn’t understand. The thing is . . .” I take a deep breath. “I’m not going to keep doing this, ya know? I don’t want to hide forever. I’m not saying I’ll be ready to come out tomorrow but I know it will be soon and when I do, I know he really will hate me. I’m scared the more I’m around him, the more I’ll think about that. I’m afraid I’ll start to hate him and I’m not ready for that to happen yet.”

  “Shit . . . I’m sorry.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, Brandon moves. I think he’s switching positions but then I feel his slightly callused hand on the back of my neck. It’s dark out, and my balcony is closed off enough that no one can really see us. It feels so damn good to have him reach over and touch me without holding back because he wants to be there for me.

  “You are so fucking brave. Do you know that? So brave. And he won’t hate you, Al. How could anyone hate you?”

  I chuckle a little, before I let my eyes drift closed. I take a couple deep breaths before I open them again, and try to lighten the mood. “Your brother hated me.”

  “That’s because he thought you wanted to fuck Charlie.”

  “Yeah I guess it changes things now that he knows I really want to fuck his brother.”

/>   Brandon groans, his grip tightening on my neck, and then it’s gone and I’m pissed because I think he’s pulling back. He grabs my arm when he stands. I go easily with him but then jerk free from his hold. “Chill the hell out. No one heard me. You didn’t have to pull me up.”

  Roughly, I push the screen door open and go inside. White-hot anger burns a hole through me. What was I thinking that I could be honest with him? That he wouldn’t find a way to freak out.

  The glass door slams behind me. “Did you mean it?” Brandon bites out.

  Oh . . . shit. At that I whip around to face him. “Is that really a question?”

  I see it in his eyes—see him want to laugh at what I said but his lips don’t move. His chest heaves in and out. Hell, I think mine is too.

  “Last night I tried to kiss you and you told me you were still pissed.”

  “Part of me still is but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you. You remember what you said to me? That you wanted some part of me. You don’t think I want whatever I can have of you too? Come on, Brand. You’re not stupid.”

  My feelings are this weird jumble of . . . well, fucked up. Is there a part of me who’s scared to screw around with him? Yeah. I know I’m gay but doing more than simple touching or kissing, that means there’s no going back. I really am gay. I think that’s part of the reason I freaked with Logan but that doesn’t mean I’m not horny as hell. No guy wants to be a twenty-year-old virgin. With him it’s a million times stronger, this constant buzz zipping around under my skin just because it’s Brandon. Everything is stronger with him.

  He’s still standing there, chest surging in out and, his eyes hard on me.

  “You know what? Never mind. I—” My words are cut off by his lips crushing mine. It’s quick, urgent, desperate and our teeth clink together. But then my lips part and he pushes his tongue inside and I’m trying to do the same to him.

  Our mouths battle. His hands cup either side of my face as I push mine up under his shirt, wanting to feel him—flesh-covered steel.

  Brandon pushes forward and I stumble backward. My foot tangles on the leg of the coffee table and I almost fall, but then Brandon’s pushing it out of the way with his foot. Back . . . back . . . back, he continues moving forward, making me fall but the couch catches me, Brandon coming down on top of me.

  He laughs and I can’t help but do the same.

  “Shit. I’m sorry. Didn’t want you to change your mind.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, before whispering, “Please don’t change your mind.” A kiss to the other side. “I want you so much.”

  My dick is so hard I feel like I’m going to explode. But yeah . . . it’s more than that. “I want you too.”

  This time, it’s my mouth pushing against his. My tongue parting his lips. I lean forward and Brandon seems to read my mind, pushing up too. Our mouths don’t part. He has one knee on the couch. His other leg is on the opposite side of me, his foot on the floor like he’s straddling me but still able to hold himself up. He’s slightly sitting on me. When I have enough room between myself and the couch, I pull my mouth off his. Brandon pushes my hands out of the way when I start to go for my shirt, and then he’s lifting it and pulling it over my head.

  He doesn’t hesitate to go for his next, throwing it somewhere on the ground before he’s kissing me again.

  This time I purposely fall back and he’s comes down right on top of me, the hot skin of his chest against mine.

  Brandon’s mouth slides down my neck, and each time he moves, I feel the roughness of his scar, reminding me what happened.

  I squeeze him tighter, my hand in his hair and then his tongue runs up the side of my neck. “I love the taste of your skin.”

  My cock jerks. “Holy shit. Don’t say stuff like that or I’m going to embarrass myself.”

  He just chuckles and then kisses me again, his tongue sweeping my mouth.

  I move my hips and when I do, my dick brushes against his. Brandon jerks his mouth away, “Oh fuck,” huskily comes out of his mouth; at the same time, I hiss.

  So close. I’m already so damn close.

  Brandon’s bottom half is flat against mine. One of his arms is holding him up a little, making the muscles move and constrict and it’s so hot.

  He smiles down at me and it makes more lust shoot through me. He’s so gorgeous and he looks . . . happy.

  And then he’s moving. Each time he nudges his hips into me, our cocks rub together and it’s like the epicenter of everything I feel. It tells my body it’s the most incredible thing that’s ever happened and I swear I feel that touch everywhere.

  Pulling him toward me, I open my mouth when his comes down on mine again. My hips are matching his rhythm now, each of us moving together, rubbing each other off.

  I run my hand down his back. His muscles working and he’s thrusting harder each time. I want to slow down, want to hold it back because I really need this feeling to last forever.

  Brandon moves again, his cock thrusting against mine, right as he nips at my bottom lip.

  “Oh fuck.” I can’t stop the orgasm from slamming into me.

  In. My. Shorts.

  Then Brandon’s tensing over me mumbling something that sounds like it’s a different language or some shit and I know he just lost it too.

  We’re both sweaty and he lets himself drop down onto me. He’s heavy but there’s nothing in me that would ask him to move. The weight feels good. Feels right.

  His breath is in my ear, neither of us talking before he pants, “You losing it like that wasn’t embarrassing. It was fucking hot.”

  And he’s right but hell, that whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than maybe five minutes.

  Still . . . “It was incredible.”

  Brandon leans up a little. Touches my hair. Quickly presses his lips to mine. “It was perfect.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Brandon

  Alec grins up at me and I’m ready to start all over again. It wouldn’t take much at all for me to get it up, I don’t think.

  “You’re easy.” He winks.

  “You don’t even know the half of it.” I wish like hell I didn’t have to but I sit up. “Do you have something I can wear?” The other clothes I have are all sweaty from our jog.

  Alec moves his legs around me and stands up. “Yeah. Changing sounds good.”

  I follow him down the hall and to his room. Alec flips on the light. There’s a queen bed across the room with a black comforter. He walks over to the dark oak dresser, while I go to the table by his bedside. There’s a lamp there, and an iPod, and a picture of him with Charlie when they were little.

  He has a shelf on the other wall with old football trophies on it and a picture of him with his varsity team. The table on the other side of his bed has a laptop on it, even though there’s a desk in one of the corners too. It has books and papers on it, I’m assuming from school.

  “Brand.”

  Turning my head, I look at him just in time to catch a pair of shorts he tosses at me. “Thanks.” I don’t know why I’m so interested in his room. It’s just . . . him. This is where he comes to be him where most people don’t usually go.

  “I’ll be right back.” He heads into the bathroom and closes the door. I walk over to his dresser next. As much as I like looking around, I’m hoping he hurries so I can clean up too.

  There’s one of those clear paperweights with an image inside. It’s a football player. He has a bottle of cologne and deodorant. And then sitting there is a cheap keychain. I know because I bought it for three bucks when him and Charlie came to New York the fourth summer I knew him. It was a joke, really. We saw it when I was showing him around the city and we both laughed at how cheesy it was but I bought it anyway and when we left the store, I told him he dropped something and handed it to him.

  NEW YORK LOVES YOU!

  Which really is lame. At the time it was funny. But he kept it.

  Picking it up, I run my thumb over the blue letters. r />
  The bathroom door opens. “You’re up. Throw your clothes in the washer when you’re done.”

  I set it down before he sees me holding it and head toward the door. “Thanks.”

  Alec nods his head toward another door. “The washer’s right here.”

  “Cool. Thanks.” Without looking at him, I duck into the bathroom and close the door. After taking off my shorts and boxer-briefs, I grab a washcloth and clean up before I take a quick piss, wash my hands, and pull on the shorts Alec gave me, free ballin’ it. Then I go out and toss everything in the washer, turn it on, and then look back in Alec’s room. He’s lying on the bed, one of his legs out straight, the other bent at the knee while he’s looking at his phone.

  The computer’s on next to his bed, ESPN playing.

  “So what are you gonna do? About your dad and work and stuff.”

  He looks over at me. “I don’t know. I have a little money saved but not a ton. What are you going to do about working out? You know you gotta do it, man. Even if something crazy happened and you decided not to play. You love it too much not to.”

  Feeling like an idiot standing in the middle of his bedroom, I walk over and sit right next to him. Alec has to scoot over a little but doesn’t go far enough away that our sides aren’t still touching.

  “I know . . . Even today. I was pissed out there but it felt awesome too. I think . . . I think I’m ready to start getting serious about it. I don’t have that long before camp.”

  He nods. “Then we’ll do it. Someone’s gotta keep you in line. I don’t think anyone else but me could handle you.”

  “I don’t want to do it with anyone but you, but again . . . what about work? And your dad?”

  “I’ll help him a day or so a week. He’ll think it’s my days off. They don’t have to know I lost my job.”

  Leaning forward, I cover his mouth with mine. He tastes a little like mint, as my tongue strokes his. He must have brushed his teeth while he was in the bathroom and I wish I would’ve thought to at least finger brush. After I pull away, I climb in behind Alec, my head on the pillows next to his. “I could help . . . with bills or whatever—”