“Exactly. That’s the point. You promised me something new a week.”
“That’s a whole lot of new. That’s basically all the new. If I did that, I’d be new-ed out.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Jonathan was funny when he wanted to be. “It’ll be fun. Please, please, please, do it for me. It’s pretty low-key, so if something comes up, it’s not the end of the world. You said you work until five, and practices aren’t until seven or eight, I think. Games are Sundays. I understand not being able to request time off, but wait…” I picked up my phone, searched the store he would be working at. “You’re closed on Sundays. What other excuses you got? I can go all day.”
He gave me another of those headshake-smiles that said he wasn’t sure what to think about me.
“What about your work schedule?”
“I do three twelve-hour shifts a week. Six a.m. to six p.m. Monday, Tuesday, Friday. We should do this. It’ll be fun. Let me show you some fun, man.”
“Oh, so now I don’t know what fun is.”
“I wouldn’t say now. I’d say always, but yeah.”
A laugh shot from his mouth so loud, I actually flinched. Thank God. I was hoping he wouldn’t take it personally.
“I’m honestly changing my mind about moving in with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
Jonathan sighed. “It would be nice to get physical again.”
Don’t make a sex joke, don’t make a sex joke.
He glanced my way. “I was always really fucking good at baseball.”
Hell yeah! I had him. “You won’t regret it.”
“If so, I’m blaming you.”
I would accept that chance. I really thought it would be good for Jonathan—to spend time with more queer people, to make friends, to see that we were like everyone else and we weren’t all one thing. I had a feeling Jonathan had an idea in his head of what being queer was supposed to be, but we weren’t a monolith.
“What position did you use to play?” I asked.
“Shortstop. You?”
“Third base.”
We ended up chatting about sports after that, first baseball, then football. It had been both our favorite sport in high school. Soon we were at the storage facility, the four of us unloading there what we needed to. We went to the apartment next and finished up. Jameson and Will said their goodbyes, heading back to their place, while Jonathan and I returned the U-Haul trailer.
Jonathan was in his bedroom now, and I leaned against the doorway, watching him look at the mess. “You need some help?” I asked.
“Nah. You’ve done enough for today.”
“Okay. That’s cool if you wanna be alone, but I don’t mind chipping in—at least to get the bed put back together.”
Jonathan turned to the side and looked at me, pushing his hair off his forehead but it just fell down again. “Yeah, sure, then.”
I went over, and we started with the frame. “So…hookups… We never talked about that.” His gaze shot to mine, eyes wide. “Oh my God. I didn’t mean with each other.”
His face turned red. “Oh, yeah. I knew you didn’t mean that.” Jesus, he was so fucking cute—all these nerves in a big, masculine package. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“I can’t wait to find some dirt on you.”
“Search away, baby. Now, back to hookups, what I was going to say is you can bring a trick home. No worries. I do it. I’d just prefer it if you didn’t leave someone random alone in the apartment or something like that.”
“Fuck, no. I would never do that.”
“I didn’t figure, but I wanted to bring it up. That, and keep it in the bedroom unless you’re into exhibitionism, which I’m cool with.”
“I’m not, and I don’t…bring guys home. At least I haven’t. Before, it was random hotels and shit. Now I usually go to them.”
I didn’t know why, but that made me a little sad, like he felt he couldn’t be himself in his own space. Like he still had to hide. “You should bring men home. There’s something about fucking in your own space.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll consider that. Now, can we put this bed together or what?”
“Need it for all the fucking, huh?”
“I might throw a hammer at you,” he countered, and I smiled.
I liked Jonathan. I already liked him a lot.
We put the bedframe together, then attached the simple wooden headboard. Once we got the mattress added, I plopped down on it. “You start work on Monday.”
“Yeah, just hoping it goes well.” He began organizing boxes and unpacking. I pulled my phone out to browse Grindr. “Comfortable?”
“No, actually. I could use a pillow.” I winked, and the corners of his mouth curled up. “You want some privacy?”
He turned away before he answered, “No,” as if he couldn’t face me while saying it. He definitely had that macho, men-can’t-show-emotion thing going on, which I figured he got from his father.