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Messy Love (Stumbling into Love 3)

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I noticed Elijah was looking at me strangely, so I crossed my heart and added, “I’ll be on my best behavior. Promise. I just have fun with the guy. It’s not a big deal.”

“Okay.”

We relaxed in the sun for a while longer, then walked to Eli’s place. I stayed for a bit, until it was almost five, then headed home.

When I got there, I plopped down on the couch, unable to get Elijah’s words out of my head. I didn’t know why they upset me, because seriously, I wasn’t fucking dumb. As hot as Jonathan was, I knew it would be stupid to screw around. I wasn’t that guy who blurred certain lines. It was one of the reasons Elijah and I never hooked up. We were best friends, and I knew he’d had feelings for me. Before Shaw came around, Elijah had thought he was in love with me. Now he knew he hadn’t been, but I wouldn’t have fucked around with someone I was close to who was in a vulnerable position. I wouldn’t do that with Jonathan either.

I was still sitting there stewing on shit I needed to forget, when the front door opened.

“Hey,” Jonathan said, setting his keys on the counter.

“Hey. How was your day?”

“Good. I like everyone there all right. The work is easy. I could do it in my sleep. Not the most fulfilling job in the world, but it’s a job.”

I took him in. He was wearing his company’s T-shirt that was tight across his broad chest, and threadbare, low-slung jeans. He stretched, and the shirt rode up, revealing his happy trail and flat stomach. I didn’t think Jonathan knew how hot he really was. “Do you have plans tonight?” I asked him.

“Yep. Tons of plans. All the plans. My schedule is booked.”

“Ha-ha. Someone thinks he’s a funny man.”

“Tons of funny. All the funny,” he countered, and I rolled my eyes. Ugh. He was cute when he relaxed and let go.

“We should go out to dinner. I want to show you around Midtown some. It’s like our own little queer bubble out there. You should take more time to enjoy it.”

“You won’t accept no for an answer, will you?”

“Wow, you know me well already.”

“Yeah, sure. I guess I should…spread my gay wings or something.”

I laughed. “Holy crap. I can’t believe you made that joke. My baby gay is growing up so fast.”

“Baby gay? What? No. I’m too old for that shit. It’s a step too far.” Jonathan crossed his arms, making the shirt pull tighter, and I really needed to avert my eyes because now that Elijah had mentioned it, I was thinking about having sex with Jonathan, wondering how he would feel and what he looked like naked. Did he top or bottom? Vers? “You don’t have to babysit me, though. If you have friends you wanna hang out with, that’s cool.”

“First of all, you don’t get to say I can’t call you a baby gay right before you mention babysitting, and second, if I didn’t want to chill with you, I wouldn’t have asked.” I stood up, grabbed his arms and turned him, before holding on again and steering him toward the hallway. “Now, go get ready, do your thing so we can go.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” he replied. “Though at some point, we need to start cooking at home—at least I need to start cooking at home. We’ve gotten takeout every night this week, and that gets expensive.”

“I agree, but that night isn’t today.” He let me continue to steer him into his bedroom. I couldn’t lie, I loved the feel of his arm muscles under my hands.

When I didn’t leave right away, he cocked a brow. “You planning on staying?”

“Gasp! No. How dare you proposition me that way!”

This time, Jonathan grabbed my arms and steered me away. “Get out of here so we can go eat. I’m starving.”

He was feeling comfortable around me, and I liked that more than I probably should.

Jonathan had to take a shower, but I’d just changed my clothes, so I sat on my bed, waiting for him. He was quick, one of those guys who jumped in, took care of business, and jumped out. He skipped shaving and left the door open while he brushed his teeth. He didn’t run a brush through his wet hair either, just looked at me through the bathroom door, as the view to my bed was perfect. “I’m ready if you are.”

“I don’t look ready? Is something wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Jonathan’s brows creased, little wrinkles forming, before he said, “Shut the fuck up,” and we both chuckled. “You almost got me for about two seconds there.”

I walked over to him. “I could tell. You were running ideas through your mind of how to fix it. Sometimes your thoughts play clearly across your face. Other times it’s like you’re Fort Knox.”



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