Eastshore Tigers 01 - Strong Side (17 page)

My legs hook around him, my heels against his ass, pulling him to me. He lowers himself above me, and instead of hard, fast strokes, I can feel every inch of him as he moves deep inside of me. My hands clutch at his back, and by the time he works up a rhythm in that position, I know my nails are digging into his skin.

Every roll of his hips brings a new burst of pleasure until every sensation melds together into almost painful anticipation. My muscles tighten, and as my moans start to get louder, Derek muffles them with his mouth. Right. We’re still in a hotel, surrounded on both sides by guys who think we’re straight.

Right now, though, I don’t care about anything except the way he feels inside of me. As the tension builds, I just let it happen, surrendering completely to Derek. I keep a tight leash on everything else in my life, but here, I know I can trust him. I know he’s going to give us both what we want, and then some.

I let him take me to the edge, and with one more thrust, he shoves me over it. I come harder than I ever have in my life, and Derek adjusts his position to watch me, his arms moving to hold my thighs in place.

“Fuck, Jason. You’re gonna make me come.”

I want that, even if I can’t find the words to say it. Even as my mind and body are still reeling, I want to give him the same pleasure he’s given me. I don’t know if I do it intentionally or just as an after-effect of climax, but my muscles clench around him, and I hear the very start of a moan, loud and low, escape from him before he bites it back.

His movements slow, and finally he stills, panting above me. When he pulls out, it feels like losing some part of myself. I already know I’m completely fucked. Not by the fact that I’m so obviously into guys that there’s no mistaking it for anything else, but because I’m lying here, after the best sex of my life, thinking about how intimate it felt. How close I felt to Derek when he was inside of me.

How much I want him to stay in bed with me and push the day back just a little further.

Compared to those feelings, the realization that I’m 100% bi seems really small. Just another new thing I’ve learned about myself. My dad always used to say you never really find out who you are until you’re in your 20’s, and I guess it’s true.

As I feel my heartrate slow and my breathing gradually return to normal, I wonder what my dad will think about all of this. It was weird seeing him between semesters and not telling him. He and I never talked about a lot of shit beyond football, but this is a major thing.

I should be freaking out about the idea of telling him; of telling everyone. Now that this feels… real, it also feels like the right thing to do.

But I’m not freaking out. I
want
people to know. It’ll make it easier for me to cut ties with anyone who gives a shit that I happen to like dudes. I can think of a few guys on the team already who are way too fond of their go-to fag jokes to ever really get it.

Fuck those guys.

I’m bi. I’m fucking my best friend.

And I think I might be in love with him.

“How you feeling?” He asks from beside me.

“Pretty fucking great. You?”

He gives me little shrug, though his smile is so big I can tell he’s full of shit. “Y’know. Same as any other day, I guess.”

“Asshole,” I say with a laugh.

Before he can defend himself, his phone buzzes on the bedside table. He reaches for it and unlocks the screen.

“Shit, it’s already almost 8. What time are we supposed to be at the airport?”

“11.”

I glance at his screen and see the face of a guy I don’t know in his text messages. I can’t read what the text says, and I don’t want to be the guy who gets all nosy and insecure, but seeing that immediately kills my buzz.

Is he still texting other guys from that app? Still looking for hookups?

Something burns in my gut, and I realize what it is almost immediately: Jealousy. It’s fucking stupid, because Derek and I didn’t really talk about being exclusive. We didn’t talk about any of this. It just sort of happened.

So maybe I was wrong. Maybe this is another hookup for him. Maybe I’m just another hookup. A straight guy he managed to turn. Fuck, I don’t want to think that, but now that it’s in there, I can’t get it out.

I need to clear my head before I make a complete ass of myself.

Swinging my feet over the edge of the bed, I grab my underwear and pull them on, then dig my sweats out of my traveling bag.

“I’m gonna try and get in a quick run before we leave,” I say, trying to keep my voice as even as possible.

Derek is messing with his phone, and at first he doesn’t respond. I’m already lacing up by sneakers by the time he answers. “Shit, sorry. You want company? I’ve gotta make a quick call, but I can meet you out there?”

“Nah, it’s cool.”

My head is spinning as I let myself out into the hall. I need to get over this shit. Just be a man and ask him what we’re doing. But I’m afraid of his answer, and that’s what has me hitting the sidewalks outside our hotel right as the sun starts to come up.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

- Derek -

Of all the things I expected Grace to text me, asking for advice about how to sneak back into the house after being gone all night is definitely not on the list.

I almost want to just call Mom and Dad and bust her ass before she gets the chance to try and cover it up. It’s not like she’s going to get far. She’s 16, and there’s no way they haven’t noticed she’s been gone.

I’m pissed at her, because I know she’s probably seeing the guy she told me about the last time I went home. My move has been tough on her. But she doesn’t need to send our parents to an early grave worrying over what kind of shit she’s getting herself into.

I can think up all the threats I want, but I know I’m going to talk her through it. She’s my sister, and it’s not like I don’t have at least a little experience with the subject. I managed to regain Mom and Dad’s trust after sneaking out and hitch-hiking almost two hours away to the closest gay bar, so I can probably help her smooth things over.

She’s not going to like it, but oh well.

I give her a call and she picks up right away. Just as I guessed, she isn’t looking for a way to come clean and apologize, she’s looking for a way to somehow get away with it. But she’s crying, so I go easy on her I’m 99% sure our parents already know she’s gone.

I calm her down and we talk for a bit before she puts Mom on the same call and tells her what happened while I listen. To her credit, Mom doesn’t freak out, and the whole thing’s resolved in less than an hour.

I guess my family has become really good at dealing with crises both big and small.

With the phone resting in my hands, I can’t help but feel the distance. I try not to let myself get homesick all that often. My grandma is great and the guys on the team feel like a family to me most of the time. But it’s hard not to think about the way my life could have gone.

I was being recruited by the Longhorns before my injury, and I would’ve signed with them without giving it a second thought. I could’ve come home on the weekends, and then maybe Grace wouldn’t be acting out and Mom wouldn’t be so worried about me and Dad could stop stressing over how I’m supposed to pay for out-of-state college.

But instead I had to get injured; had to let myself get played by somebody I thought I could trust. Somebody I thought I loved.

Shit. I still need to tell Jason about Danny. I just don’t want him to pity me or change the way he acts around me.

Then again, the way he left this morning was already a little weird. I thought we were good. Better than good. But he isn’t back yet, and it didn’t really seem like he wanted me to go with him when he left.

Maybe I’m wrong about us. Maybe he’s having second thoughts.

It’s a little after 9 when he gets back, and I’m already showered and dressed. Coach is going to want us down in the lobby soon, and it won’t be long before we have to head back to the airport and go home.

But I’m not focused on any of that. Instead, I try to get a read on Jason as he pulls off his sweaty clothes.

“How was the run?”

“Pretty good.” He tugs off his pants, balling them up and tossing them onto the bed. “Think I have time for a shower?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I’m such a fucking pushover. I just sit there while the water runs and try to think about what the fuck I want to say to him when he gets out. Thankfully he takes showers quick, just like me and every other football player in the world, and when he comes out I can smell the slight scent of soap and hotel shampoo as he walks by.

I reach for his arm and he immediately tenses, then looks at me like everything’s going the way it always has.

The last thing I want to do is turn this into some huge drama fest, so I take a minute to not just say the first thing that wants to fly out of my mouth.

“Look, dude, you’re gonna have to tell me why you’re giving me the cold shoulder if you want me to do something about it.”

“Just trying to get ready before the team leaves without us,” he says, pulling out of my grasp and going to put on fresh clothes.

I let my hand fall onto my knee and watch him, wondering what the hell happened in so short a time. “Yeah, I can tell it’s not just that.”

He grabs hanging clothes from the closet, pulling on his slacks and belting them. We’re required to wear nice shit when we come back from an away game; especially when we win. It’s a team morale and presentation thing, and Jason’s always looked damn good in a suit. But this time I can’t really get that excited about it.

“It’s cool, Griff. We can talk about it later.”

That’s the first time he’s called me Griff in a while; at least when it’s just been the two of us. Now I know something’s up, and I walk over to him, putting my hands on his shoulders and standing there so he can’t just ignore me.

“I wanna talk about it now.” After a beat, I try to prompt him. “If you’re having second thoughts or something—”

“I saw your phone,” he says simply, as if that’s supposed to answer all my questions.

I stare at him, bewildered. “My phone? You mean the text from my sister?”

Why would he be pissed about that? Grace isn’t his responsibility.

“The one before it.”

It takes me a minute to even realize what he’s talking about. I only remember reading my sister’s text. But then I see a flash of a douchey, smiling face in my mind. Another guy from Grindr who messaged me right after the first and hasn’t stopped messaging me since. To his credit, he only does it every few days. Usually to update me on how horny he is. Each time I tell myself I’m going to block him, then I wander off and do something else.

“What, the Grindr douchebag?”

“Like I said, it’s cool. Just let me know when you’ve got hookups planned so I don’t drop by your dorm or something.”

The Jason I see right now is the Jason who takes the field every Saturday. Cool, collected, and totally unreadable. The guy everybody else just knows as “Hawk.”

And I don’t like it one bit.

“I don’t have any hookups planned, J. The last time I even met a guy was when we went out to Dazzle.”

“It’s cool,” he says again, like saying it more firmly is going to make me believe he means it. “Neither of us ever said anything about being exclusive.”

Ouch. Okay, time to put this shit to rest.

“That guy?” I gesture back toward my phone where it rests on the nightstand. “He’s just somebody I’m too lazy to block. Christ, Jason, the only reason I opened up my profile was because I was trying not to think about how much I wanted you.”

That gets his attention, but I can see him fight it. His blue eyes search mine and I wonder if he’s been lied to in the past. He never talks about any of his exes, the same way I never talk about mine.

“So there isn’t anyone else?”

The guarded hope in his voice kills me, and I lift both my hands to his cheeks. “There’s nobody else. I only ever wanted you.” It’s too much, and I feel like I’ve just said something that’s going to leave me wide open, so I couch it in humor. “Come on, man. You’re my best friend, and I got a hard-on when you tackled me. I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me if I couldn’t figure shit out.”

“That would’ve sucked for you if I was straight,” he says, and a small glimmer of a smile quirks at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, well. Next time wear an ID badge or something. ‘It’s cool, you can think about me while you’re jacking off.’”

That actually makes him laugh and I smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. I hate misunderstandings. And while I’m not a guy who pours his feelings out on the regular, I also hate not being able to just talk things through.

I hope what I’ve said is enough to reassure him. I’m not sure I want to say anything else yet. It’s terrible, because I feel it. I feel it every time I look at him. But I just… need time.

So instead, I let my actions speak for me, and softly press my lips to his. It’s slow at first, but the longer we keep it up and the closer I press my body to his, the more heated it gets until we’re locked in another make-out session that seems like it’s heading for the bed.