Better Than Friends (16 page)

“That’s not my scene. I’m not a frilly guy. But I’m also not into leather and chains, or ugly plaid shirts and jeans. I’m just… you know…. regular. Ordinary.”

“No. You’re not ordinary. And like I said, no one cares what you’re wearing.”

“But some people must care. You said yourself, you like guys in uniform. Do men show up dressed as policemen or firefighters?”

“Some nights we’ll do a specialty evening and make it about dressing in a particular fashion. But like I said, otherwise… it’s just a club with a cool bar and great ambiance. That’s all.”

“Where does the fetish thing fit in?”

“It doesn’t. You brought it up.”

“No, you did.”

“No….” A cell phone rang loudly from across the room. Damn. It was mine and I was nowhere near it.

“I’ll grab it for you. Want another beer?” Jack stood, and I quickly adjusted my cock in my shorts. The conversation we’d just had had certainly made my dick take notice. Baseball. I needed to focus on the game.

“Looks like it’s your boyfriend.” Jack handed me my phone with the name “Paul” flashing on the screen.

“Hello?” I glanced over at Jack, who gave me a cocky grin and then sat forward in his chair with his elbows resting on his knees, assuming a look of intense concentration. On the game. Right. I gulped and tried to pay attention to Paul. He was telling me about a new restaurant he wanted to try and asked if he could pick me up at eight. What? Oh shit! I forgot about our date.

“Yeah, uh sure. Eight is fine. Good. No, I have a friend over. You aren’t interrupting. We’re watching the Giants game. Baseball.” Jack’s hmph of annoyed amusement had me lifting my eyebrows. “Okay. I’ll see you later. Bye.”

I ended my call with Paul and looked over at Jack sitting almost crouched forward, acting like no men on base at the beginning of the fifth was true excitement. His posture was deceptively lose and carefree, but I could tell his muscles were rigid and tense. It didn’t escape my notice he never did get another beer. I didn’t know what to make of his quiet concentration after the “interesting” line of conversation we’d been forced to abandon because of my phone call. I decided to give my whole attention to the Giants. Baseball was easy. It was simple, uncomplicated. And my team was thankfully winning.

We sat companionably and watched the game. With an elephant in the room named Paul.

When Jack stood to leave an hour later, I wondered if things would be strained between us. I desperately wanted to lean into him, kiss him, trace his muscular biceps and the outline of his bulge through his shorts. But I couldn’t tell if Paul’s call had fucked things up for Jack and me. And I was afraid to ask. It sounded sophomoric and presumptuous. Plenty of guys fooled around with other men without immediately jumping into relationship status. I wasn’t one of them, but I couldn’t begin to know what Jack’s feelings were on the subject. What I did know was it was really difficult to sit next to him and not touch him.

“You’re playing with us tomorrow, right?” I watched Jack’s hand on the door handle as he turned to leave.

“Yeah. I’ll be there.” He bent his head and sweetly, ever so gently brushed his lips against my own. I closed my eyes when our mouths touched. When I reopened them, he was gone.

J
ACK
SENT
me a text message an hour later.

Have a NICE time 2nite

I knew he was messing with me but I admit I stared at my cell for a minute longer than usual.
Nice
meant boring to Jack. He was wishing me an uneventful date with the handsome Brit. Did that mean he was jealous? Nah. Couldn’t be. I had to laugh at myself, though. It wasn’t so long ago I’d told Matt that communication was important in any relationship. Jack and I were friends, new friends at that. But maybe I should take my own advice and try to see if there was a chance, even an ever so slight one, Jack was feeling anything more about me. Unlikely, but…. I quickly dismissed the notion and mentally slapped myself upside the head.
Sure way to end a budding friendship,
I thought. Obviously it was much easier to give other people advice than yourself.

It didn’t escape my attention that I was looking forward to seeing Jack the next morning on the basketball court a hell of a lot more than I was looking forward to my date with Paul that night.

“Approach the game with no preset agendas and you’ll probably come away surprised at your overall efforts.”

—Phil Jackson

W
EATHER
HAD
proven to be a big obstacle for our regular Saturday basketball games, until this weekend, when we rescheduled for Sunday due to work schedules and family obligations. It had been two weeks since I’d first asked Jack to join us. Even though I’d spent the previous afternoon hanging out watching baseball with him, I still had butterflies in my stomach. A medley of questions went through my head. Would he be weird about my date with Paul the night before? Did he care? What would he look like in basketball shorts?

I arranged to meet the guys at the public courts near our alma mater, Georgetown University. Since I still lived in the area, I’d been assigned the task of heading over to stake our claim by 9:00 a.m. Any later, we’d be out of luck. A gorgeous spring day in late May meant everyone would be out playing in the city. I rode my bicycle the few blocks to O Street from my apartment, taking advantage of one of the first nonrainy days we’d had all week. I probably looked like a moron carrying my basketball in one arm as I steered my bike with the other, but I really didn’t care.

After locking up my bike, I got busy warming up. I was probably on my fifth shot, third one to actually make it in the hoop, when Jason yelled my name in greeting.

“Hey, man!”

Jason was dressed like me in longish basketball shorts and a T-shirt that had seen better days. I threw him the ball and observed him for a moment while he took a turn at the basket. Marriage seemed to agree with him. He looked like he’d gained a couple of pounds since he and Chelsea had tied the knot. But it looked good on him and he seemed really happy. No doubt they’d be talking about buying a house in the suburbs and starting a family soon. It struck me again that we were all growing up. The days of writing school papers and endless reading were a thing of the past.

Matt and Aaron arrived next. Aaron was obviously telling his boyfriend a story if the rapid hand motions were any indication. They looked like they’d just gone for a run. Aaron sometimes would run with Matt to the courts and then continue on for another few miles while we played hoops. I hated running, but I was always impressed with Aaron’s athleticism and passion for it. Jase and I shouted out a greeting as they approached.

“I’m playing today, guys,” Aaron announced when they stepped on the court.

Jase and I exchanged looks but wisely kept our mouths shut. Matt laughed, though, and then grimaced as Aaron whacked him in the arm.

“You should see your faces!” Matt wrapped an arm around Aaron’s waist and pulled him close to his side, kissing his temple once before releasing his hold. “Don’t worry, Aaron isn’t staying to school your asses today, right, babe?”

“Nice save.” Aaron squeezed Matt’s hand and jumped up to get the basketball as it rebounded off the backboard. “I’ll stay until Jack gets here. Who wants to play me first?”

It was a three-way eye roll this time. Aaron was a fast runner, but his hand-eye coordination was a little unpredictable. We laughed as he traveled hopelessly, carrying the ball and running before throwing it over the entire backboard.

The rev of an approaching motorcycle announced the arrival of our fourth. My hands were suddenly sweaty, and I could feel my heart attempting to beat out of my chest. Shit. I needed to pull myself together quickly.

“Cool. He’s here,” Matt said as he deftly grabbed the ball from Aaron and took a shot of his own, hitting nothing but net. He gave me a triumphant fist pump and then came to a halt when he noticed my distracted expression. Matt cocked his head and smiled a little smugly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I whispered as I nudged him hard and stole the ball from him. I didn’t want Jase and Aaron to catch wind of my angst here. I was uncomfortable enough as it was.

“No reason, lover boy. Let’s play.”

Matt grabbed my shoulder in a reassuring manner before he turned to greet the newcomer. I was afraid to even look at him, though I felt his presence the moment he stepped on the court. I took two lame-ass shots before giving in and turning around. I should have known the sight of Jack in basketball shorts and a tank T-shirt that lovingly showcased every one of his incredibly formed muscles—abs, chest, biceps, shoulders, back—would make my pulse race faster. I gulped once, audibly, watching him greet my buddies before coming toward me.

“Hey, honey. How are you?” He kissed my cheeks and winked at me before stealing the ball from my hand and effortlessly making the basket from twenty feet away. I almost sensed he knew where my head had been moments before, and I felt a flush of embarrassment.

Aaron said his good-byes, claiming he was going to do some exercise while we played with our balls. Smart-ass. I used the distraction of his departure to take a couple of practice shots and was relieved when they went in. The last thing I needed was to make a total fool of myself playing a game I usually held my own at quite nicely all because Jack made me nervous. I gradually relaxed as we warmed up taking turns shooting. Conversation was light. Mostly weather- and work-related. It was all good until we decided to play a game. Matt and Jack against Jason and me.

I figured Jack was competitive but I miscalculated how much the guy liked to win. Jack was fierce, physical, and extremely athletic. When he jumped to block my shots, he used his body weight to box me out, practically throwing me to the concrete a couple of times. At first I thought he was kidding around, but I began to realize he came to play. He obviously thought we took this a lot more seriously than we did.

“That’s it, Matt. Take it to the hole. Fuck yeah!” Jack yelled as Matt made a run at the basket and hit his shot just as Jason went to block it. “And one!”

“Fuck that. That was not a foul!” I protested. It probably was, but I was getting tired of his pompous style of play. The only positive was that it went a long way toward curing my earlier bout of nerves. Now I was pissed.

“It was a foul and you know it, C Man. Take your shot, Matt,” Jack said as he flipped the ball to Matt.

“C Man?” Damn he was annoying and so fucking distracting. I alternated between wanting to stop and admire his muscular form glistening with sweat to holding back from nailing him in the back of the head with the basketball. His arrogance seemed to hit new levels with each point he and Matt scored.

“C’mon, Curt. We got this. Don’t worry.” Poor Jason looked worried about my sanity as he tried to calm me down from the ledge.

“Right. Let’s do this.” I passed the ball to Jason from the top of the key and slid by Jack, positioning myself practically under the basket. “Pass me the ball!”

Jason still had to make his way around Matt, who was doing a good job defending him from making any forward progress. Jack turned to block me, effectively making a wall in between Jason and me with his larger-than-average frame. I shoved my body into his, surprising him enough to make a breakaway and give Jason the opportunity to throw me a clean pass. Jason passed the ball. I grabbed it and crouched low, trying to fool Jack with a fake shot before jumping a second time and releasing the ball. It hit the outside rim and neatly fell into the basket.

And I fell in a heap on the court.

You know the feeling when time is suspended and you notice every detail more keenly, as though the action has unfolded over a longer time than the half-second it actually happened? I jumped, I saw the ball go in, I celebrated with a whoop and then fell unceremoniously on my ankle as I landed with a thud, scraping my knee for good measure on the concrete. White light flooded my vision as my brain began to process that something extremely painful had occurred. Unfortunately, as that ominous light cleared, the pain registered. And it really fucking hurt.

Matt, Jason, and Jack all gathered around me, asking repeatedly if I was okay. No, I was not fucking okay. I breathed in deeply a few times and struggled to sit up.

“Man, you fell like a rock. Where does it hurt? Is it your ankle?”

“Yeah, I think I just rolled it, but it hurts.” I tried another deep breath and was relieved when the wave of nausea passed. I’d been dangerously close to puking or passing out until that moment.

“We should get you to the clinic. Let me call Chelsea. She can come back around with the car and we can drive you there.” Jason moved back to get his phone out, probably grateful to do something other than ask if I was all right.

“I think I have a towel and water in my backpack. Let’s get your knee cleaned up.” Matt jumped up too, leaving me with Jack.

“Did I push back too hard? Is that why you fell?”