Why? Why was this happening to me? Why now?
So many questions, but I wasn’t about to fuck up Fox’s water bill over them. I turned the water off, took another deep breath, let it out, and told myself I was going to be okay.
I exited the bathroom, feeling a little steadier even though I still lacked all the answers, and was surprised to see that the couch-bed had been transformed with a big blue comforter and a couple of fluffy pillows sitting next to a folded-up gray blanket, the extra-soft and extra-fuzzy kind.
I turned to Fox, who was now wearing a pair of white basketball shorts and a snug-fitting T-shirt. “Wow, you really didn’t have to, Fox.”
“Oh, this? Don’t worry about it, this is for me.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, I tried out the bed and turns out there’s a spring that’s a little wonky.”
“Oh…”
“So you’ll get my bed. I’ll crash on the couch tonight until I get someone to fix it tomorrow. Here, you can change into these.” He handed me a pair of black shorts and a white shirt, but I was still hung up on his offer to sleep on the springs.
“No way, I’m not taking your bed. Thank you, Fox, I really appreciate it. I appreciate this all so much… No one… not many people… this is one of the nicest things that someone’s ever done for me. So I’ll sleep on springs even if it means getting devirginized at some point in the night, but I’m not taking your bed. Maybe turn it back into a couch; I’m good with that, too.”
Fox seemed slightly caught by surprise, his eyes wide, and then he laughed loudly. “All right, we can fight about this later.” I realized then he had something in his hands. I was trying so hard not to look at the basketball shorts, which were particularly full around the crotch area. “I figured maybe we could have a drink to cap the night?” He lifted the bottle of rum, the amber liquor sloshing around the midway mark. His eyes were glinting with a mischievous energy, one that intrigued me. Most of my body was crying out for sleep, but I ignored that part and nodded instead.
“Let’s do it,” I said, clapping my hands and kicking off my shoes. “I feel bad—I’m taking up space in your place, and now I’m taking your liquor. I’m going to owe you big-time, Fox. And just know, I’m the kind of guy who always repays any debt I have.”
Fox shook his head. He walked over to the kitchen and placed the bottle down on the counter with a loud clunk. He opened up a cupboard and pulled out two shot glasses, small and round. I watched him. Watched the way his biceps fit snug in the sleeves of his light-blue shirt. And how his big shoulder blades shifted and danced under the fabric. And how the shorts fell off the curve of his ass, the way his crack seemed to swallow the thin material.
This isn’t right. I can’t take my eyes off him. Can’t stop my dick from getting hard at the sight of him…
Annnd that’s when I knew I was in trouble. Something was going on and I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Mainly because I wanted to put my whole fucking hand on it.
12 Gabriel “Fox” Morrison
“No! No fucking way, I’m not doing that.” Jonah was laughing, his arms flailing in the air. “Nope.”
“Okay, fine, fine.” I was laughing, too. It was hard not to when the sound of Jonah’s cheer was so damn infectious. “All right, instead of barking five times like a dog before you drink, you’ve got to… bark three times.”
“What? No! I’m not bargaining barks.” He looked at me, still laughing, and slumped his shoulders. He raised his glass, and still with a smile that basically said “fuck you,” he barked three times and then he drank.
In between us was a solid ring of playing cards, facedown and spread out. In the center of the ring was a double shot of rum. The clock behind Jonah read two thirty in the morning, although it felt like the night only just started. I definitely wasn’t expecting us to start playing Ring of Fire from offering Jonah a drink, but I was quickly learning that time spent with Jonah was full of the unexpected.
And I liked that. A whole fucking lot.
“Good boy,” I teased. He got red in the cheeks, flashed those pearly whites, and then flashed his middle fingers. He went for another card, pulled it out while being careful not to break the circle, and then showed me the card.
“An ace. We gotta waterfall.” I lifted my beer bottle and clinked it with Jonah. He smiled and put his bottle to his lips, starting the waterfall. I followed, chugging the beer and keeping an eye on Jonah. I couldn’t stop until he stopped, and that bastard was not stopping. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he glugged his beer, some of it dripping down his mouth, leaving a shiny trail. My bottle was almost empty, but I kept going, and finally Jonah put his down, the empty bottle sounding against the floor.