It hadn’t been out of his way. He’d been half in love with his best friend for most of his life. He’d managed to keep it to himself for years, though not entirely. Tasha had known. Still no one else ever had to. Not even Owen. Especially not Owen.
Falling in love was the quickest way to ruin a friendship.
When you really fall in love, it will be for keeps…
Jesus, what was he going to do?
Jeremy lifted his head to see a smile that tore at his heart. In silence they washed each other’s bodies, neither willing to shatter the fragile moment with words. He watched his soapy fingers massage the lean muscles of Owen’s chest and stomach, felt them glide over tight butt cheeks and between as he tended to his lover.
It was the most intimate experience he’d ever had.
They rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, taking more time to carefully dry each other’s bodies before Owen took his hand and guided him to the bed. He lay down in the middle and opened his arms and Jeremy didn’t resist. He joined him, pressing his ear against Owen’s chest and listening to his heart. It was a strong heart. A loyal heart.
It was a hopeless wish, but Jeremy wanted it to be his.
He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by before Owen finally spoke. “I left our dinner sitting out on the kitchen counter. What do you say we warm it up and watch some television while we eat?”
Jeremy didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to talk about dinner. He wanted Owen to tell him how he was feeling, but that obviously wasn’t an option. “Pizza again?”
“Yes,” Owen laughed softly. “But I promise, I’ll get Indian tomorrow. Unless you feel like breakfast for dinner, because you know that’s all I can cook.”
Jeremy pushed himself up and studied the light blue eyes he knew so well. “Tomorrow, huh? Is that your way of asking for an invitation?”
Owen rolled off the bed and walked over to Jeremy’s dresser, opening a drawer and grabbing a pair of sweatpants. Jeremy kept his disappointment to himself when Owen slipped them on.
“Actually it is,” Owen said as he tossed an extra pair at Jeremy. “But not for dinner. That rainstorm last night? It came in through the roof of my living room. That’s why it took me so long to get here—I was arguing with my landlord.”
“Shit, Owen, how long have I been telling you that whole complex should be condemned? I don’t have to be in construction to know that.”
“I know. But it’s just a place to sleep. If I need more than that I have the family house, Seamus, here…” Owen shrugged. “The point is, it won’t be livable for a week or so. I was thinking if I bribed you with your favorite food and promised not to steal the covers, you’d let me stay here until it’s fixed.”
“Like it’s even a question.” It never had been before. “Lord knows I have enough room.”
No one in the family would think it was strange. Owen stayed here all the time.
He stopped at the counter and looked at Jeremy over his shoulder with a smirk. “We just need the one bedroom, unless you’re feeling adventurous. I won’t be slumming on your couch.”
The idea of having him here every night made Jeremy happier than he had a right to be. Hadn’t he been thinking about how empty this house was? “Let’s eat. Beer?”
“Of course.”
They warmed up the pizza in the oven and carried it into the living room with a few bottles of beer. Jeremy picked one of their favorite movies to watch as they ate in companionable silence.
Owen snorted and reached for his beer. “That man is a badass.”
He shook his head. “The raccoon is a badass. That man is his comic relief.”
“They should make one of your comics into a movie.”
Jeremy smiled. They’d had this conversation more than once. “Maybe they would if I drew more explosions.”
Owen slapped his hand on Jeremy’s thigh. “Which is what I’ve been saying you needed all along. Explosions are cool.”
“If you’re thirteen,” Jeremy countered, setting down his beer.
Owen followed his lead. “All men are thirteen, Jeremy. Inside where it counts. That’s why you make the big bucks.”
“I can’t argue with that logic. Now stop talking and watch the movie.”
Jeremy stiffened in momentary surprise when Owen wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him back against the couch beside him. It felt good. Strange but familiar at the same time.
It didn’t take long for him to lay his head on Owen’s shoulder. For Owen’s fingers to trace teasing designs against his shoulder. For Jeremy’s hand to naturally land on Owen’s thigh, squeezing the hard muscles he could feel through the loose-fitting sweatpants and moving higher.