The Endgame (Atlanta Lightning 1)

“You didn’t have to tell me for me to know.” West needed to succeed. He needed to be the best at everything because…well, I was pretty sure he thought that was where his worth lay. “But even if you don’t beat me, I’ll still love you. Even if you’re not the best at everything, I’ll still love you. None of that shit matters to me. Just you.”

Something flashed in West’s gaze, but he quickly hid whatever it was. He rolled his eyes, saying, “You’re so fucking sappy. What am I going to do with you?” With that, he let go of my hips, reached up, cupped my face, and tugged me down so our mouths met.

We sat there together, making out on the couch, and it was…perfect. I never wanted this to end.

“So what healthy crap are you forcing me to eat tonight?” West asked me the next evening.

“I’m not forcing you to eat anything. I told you we could order in…or I could go pick up whatever you want.” I looked away, ashamed we couldn’t go to the store together.

West came up behind me. I stood at the counter, close to where I’d fucked him his first night here. He wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled my neck. “But I like it when you’re naughty with me.”

I tried not to melt into his touch. It wasn’t easy. Everything about him turned me on, drove me wild, touched my heart. “We can have ice cream for dessert.”

“Deal!” He kissed my cheek with an exaggerated, loud smack.

“Are you going to cook with me?” I asked.

“Don’t I always?”

He did. It was such a simple thing—working in the kitchen together. We’d done it at his place, and the tradition had followed us to Georgia. We had things now, traditions, and that filled me with a giddy excitement.

“Also,” I added, “we’re having pasta, so I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“Chicken and roasted vegetable whole wheat pasta with tomatoes. There are lots of veggies in that.”

“It’s good for you, baby.” I went to the fridge and began pulling out supplies.

We chopped vegetables together, then cooked. We ate on the couch while watching a documentary. It wasn’t my favorite kind of thing, but I knew West liked them, and I liked to make him smile.

Afterward we washed dishes, then ended up showering and falling into bed. West played with my hole, fingering me. It felt better than I thought it would, though it was still a little embarrassing. I flipped him over and fucked him—no more condoms—and then we took another shower before heading into the backyard and onto the deck in our underwear.

“It’s nice out here—well, except for the humidity. Reminds me of home. North Carolina, I mean.” West sat in the chair beside me, looking up at the sky.

“What made you choose California?”

“It was as far from my family as I could get, and it represented something new. I felt like I would be able to be myself there. Who doesn’t dream about going to Cali?” He chuckled. “But I guess I thought the farther away I went, the easier it would be to be free. There was no one to disapprove of me there, no one to disappoint or embarrass—at least not on a daily basis. Before I graduated and began working in politics, no one cared who my dad was.” He was quiet for a moment, and I knew not to speak, knew that West had more to say. “Part of me thought it might somehow make my father love me more…like if I was so far away, he wouldn’t be ashamed of me, like California was a whole new fucking world or something.”

Christ, he wrecked me when he opened up this way. I reached over and entwined our fingers. West lifted my hand, kissed it, then rested our joined hands on the arm of the chair again.

“How do you do this to me?”

“Do what?” I asked.

“Open me up without trying. Make me lay myself bare to you when I wouldn’t with anyone else.”

“Baby.” My voice broke. He turned, looked at me, and gave me a sad smile. “You’ve changed my world. You’ve made me…not wish I could be something different than what I am. If I wasn’t gay, I wouldn’t have you, and fuck your family for not seeing how great you are. You’re nothing to be ashamed of. You’re nothing to be disappointed in. You’re everything.”

West winked. “You just like my ass.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I know. Thank you. Feels true when you say it. You’ve changed my world too.”

We stopped talking about serious shit after that. We both knew we needed the break. West could read me, and I could read him, like we had a hidden connection to each other, a window into each other’s soul and brain.

We stayed outside for another hour or so, listening to the sounds of summer around us, before we went to bed together, and I held him tight, afraid I’d never be able to let go.