“Are you trying to ruin sex?” I teased.
“No, I’m making it better by guaranteeing no complications, entanglements, or inconvenient feelings. All the things I wished my previous booty calls had offered me,” he replied with a self-satisfied grin. “I don’t want you to worry that I’ll get the wrong idea. That’s all.”
“What if I get the wrong idea?”
Topher rolled his eyes. “That won’t happen.”
I regarded him thoughtfully but tuned him out when he went into excruciating detail about dopamine release. I didn’t get it.
Everything else he’d said made sense though. To a degree. I was in the midst of a powerful personal realization…I was bi. I wanted to explore it, celebrate it, test my powers, and see if this discovery unleashed a new direction for me. There was power in knowledge, and I had a lot to learn.
However, I’d never think of sex as science. I wasn’t programmed that way. Something told me Topher wasn’t either. Maybe the “science” of the act was another version of the pillow wall or his rule book. A foolproof measure of defense against the possibility of emotional—what did he say? Entanglement.
I wanted to assure him he was safe with me. Geez, I was no catch. It wouldn’t take him long to figure that out. In the meantime, I’d stick close to Topher and let him call the shots.
I daydreamed a lot over the next couple of weeks. That wasn’t like me at all. I wasn’t known for deep thoughts or my introspective prowess, but my brain seemed to be in a constant state of overload, bouncing like a renegade pinball over titillating topics ranging from dinner ideas to the sight of Topher’s finger breaching his puckered entrance or my dick in his hole.
Damn, I loved being inside him and every time I left him, I couldn’t wait to see him again…and do it again. And again. But I didn’t want to rush this. Or overthink it.
No, it was better to play it cool. And trust me, that wasn’t easy. If I had my way, we’d push the books aside and study each other exclusively. Screw calculus.
But I followed Topher’s lead. His quiet patience drew me in almost as much as his enthusiasm in bed. I found myself staring at him while he read and listening more intently when he spoke. I loved the melodic timbre of his voice, the sweet freckles on his nose, and his quick blush. His presence soothed something inside me. When I was with him, I forgot to worry about what I was missing or what I’d been waiting for.
Until my phone rang.
I turned into my driveway and pushed my garage door opener, humming to “Beast of Burden” while I waited for the modern steel door to lift. I glanced at the console when the music stopped abruptly, signaling an incoming call.
Oh. Wow.
I tapped the contact name on the screen as I pulled into my garage. “Ryan. How’s it goin’?”
“Good, man. Excellent! I was about to ask you the same thing. How’re you feeling?”
My palms instantly went clammy. I couldn’t tell if I hated that question or if I resented that my agent had the power to make me so damn nervous. The sound of his chipper voice or even the sight of his name on my screen made me feel nauseous. It used to be the opposite. Then again, he used to call more often.
Whatever. Not important. He was on the line now, and that had to mean something.
“I feel great,” I replied enthusiastically, hoping a cheery tone might telepathically influence a positive message, like, “Get this, Si. Are you sitting? You should sit ’cause Green fuckin’ Bay wants you!” Or something equally cool delivered in his over-the-top LA slickster style.
“That’s fantastic, man. Glad to hear it. How’s the surf?”
The surf?
“It’s been big lately.” Like I gave a shit. I let him babble about rip currents and the sick sets near the pier, intercepting him before he got too far into his description of his new wet suit. “That’s cool, Ryan. Hey, it’s been a few weeks. Got any news for me?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, man. I wanted to call you sooner, but it’s been nonstop hectic around here. Handling in-season trades is tricky business and I—oh, hang on, Simon.”
Ryan mumbled to someone on his end while I sat in my car like an idiot waiting my turn. Nope. This definitely wasn’t how this was supposed to work.
“Ryan? Are you there?”
“Yo, man. Sorry about that. Like I said, it’s been crazy.” His phony half laugh echoed in my ear. “So, listen up. I’ve got something to tell you, and you’re gonna lose your fuckin’ mind. Are you ready for this?”
“Yes.” I closed my eyes and held my breath.
“I’m talking to the OC in Denver. They’re interested.”
“The Broncos?”
“Yeah, the fuckin’ Broncos!”
“Really? That’s great news.”