Oh … I don’t like it out here.
Byron goes straight to the railing, then lets go of my hand. I come up next to him and feel the breeze on my face, reminding me of two things: one, the thick and altogether unpleasant makeup on my face, and two, that there was a lot of alcohol put into my system in a short bit of time, and things are spinning that shouldn’t be.
This isn’t your body, West. My tolerance is lower.
I really don’t like it out here, Griff.
“I have to admit something to you,” says Byron. He takes a breath, lets it out, then winces. “I like you.”
My heart jumps. “Yeah?”
Now’s the time to make a move, bro. But first, can we step the hell away from this railing? Please?
“I mean, obviously you caught my eye the very first time you got a caramel latte from me and I thought your name was Calvin …”
Oh, wow. “I did?”
Dude, stop acting so surprised. Confidence! You’re a looker! You’ve got a monster dick! You’re hot shit!
“… but now after I’ve gotten to know you a little,” Byron goes on, “I’m surprised by how much more there is to you. I mean, that one day when you had bad luck with some job interviews, and then you drop on me that you’re a graphics artist?” He laughs. “How amazing! I’d love to see your work sometime!”
“Maybe I’ll show you.” Yeah, you will. Show him a lot more than that, buddy. I smirk. “I can show you a lot more than just my … artwork.”
Byron chuckles, then draws silent, studying the side of my face with curiosity. “Yeah?”
I panic. Don’t panic. “Is there a reason you brought me out to this balcony? … All by ourselves?” I smirk, feeling an irresistible drive inside of me. I turn toward him, an elbow propped on the railing. “You move fast.”
“I just thought we’d—” Byron chokes, then plays it off. “It was so loud inside.”
“Sure. Loud. So loud.” My eyes drop to his orange, sleeveless top, which squeezes his pecs in such an inviting way. His round, bare shoulders spill out from that vest, smooth and toned, giving way to his long and powerful arms.
The next thing I know, I chase an impulse and put my hand on his chest. Fuck, his muscles are so firm. A tiny stroke of panic has me desperately needing to justify my action. “The work you did on this tight vest, it’s top notch.” My eyes flick suggestively up to his. “It shows off your hard work at the gym, too, apparently.”
He can’t wipe the proud—and slightly nervous—smile off his face. “I worked pretty hard at it. The emblem and my body,” he adds like a cute, dorky joke, letting out a single strained chuckle.
My hand stays on his chest, touching him, feeling him. My heart is beating insatiably.
Our heart.
Are … Are we gonna do something with him? Now?
Isn’t that the point?
I didn’t think this far ahead. I didn’t think we’d still be in your body together when it came to, uh …
Byron must notice my eyes all over him, because he bites his lip and lowers his voice. “Griffin, I’ve gotta say, I didn’t see this side of you at Spooky’s. It’s kind of surprising, actually.”
I drag a finger down his chest. “Is that so?”
“Well, yeah. I sort of thought you were more … the chat-and-get-to-know-each-other-first type.”
I am that type. What’s gotten into me?
Don’t sweat it. And don’t worry about me. I want it, too. You’re going for the prize. That’s the point, isn’t it?
But am I coming on too strong? What if I’m—?
This is what guys want. You feel that fire inside of you? It’s called horniness. It wants to be satisfied. He’s got it, too. He practically just pulled out his dick when he said he likes you. Don’t you see the signs?
He brought me up to this pretty balcony with that nice bench, and the cool lights, and the pumpkin …
Are you kidding me? You think he brought you up to this spot to chat? You really think guys want to waste time talking about art and coffee and bullshit? No! We want our dicks sucked! We want to fuck! Bro, c’mon!
“You alright?” asks Byron.
I meet his eyes. The devil takes over again. “I’m so much better than alright.”
Byron peers down as my finger strays off. His vest is so small and tight-fitting, it leaves a peek of his waist showing—a tease. I take advantage of that little sexy slice of skin, my finger stopping there to hook into the waistband of his tights, then give it a teasing tug.
Byron’s eyes grow with surprise as he meets mine.
I smirk. “Y’know what? I’ve lived so much of my life sitting back and watching everyone else live. I’ve been too shy. I’ve been hiding. Or afraid.”