Messy Love (Stumbling into Love 3)

“What? No. Stay here.” I leaned forward so I wouldn’t give the waiter a shot of my bulge.

“They got this done quickly for you guys,” he said, setting my plate down in front of me, then Danny’s…Danny who picked up his phone and didn’t reply while I knew he was only pretending to scroll. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

I studied him for a second. I wanted to have sex, but I didn’t know if I wanted to have sex with him. Nothing against the guy. He was beautiful but…not what I was looking for. “Um…no, thanks. This looks great.”

He looked disappointed but walked away.

“You suck at getting someone’s number,” Danny said.

“I don’t want it, asshole. He’s…not my type. How do you want to do this fry thing?”

He reached over, plucked one from my plate, and stuck it into his mouth. “What’s your type?”

We tried this the other night when we were scrolling through the hookup app. “We’re not doing this.”

“Why can’t we do this? I’ll tell you mine.”

“I didn’t ask yours.”

“Well, now my feelings are hurt.” He winked. God, he was refreshing. I’d never had a friend like Danny before.

“Fuck.” I rested my elbow on the table and rubbed a hand over my face. I was going to do this. I wanted to do this. To talk to him. “I guess I’m realizing lately that I’m interested in guys with a more athletic build? With more meat and muscle on their bones. Men I don’t feel like I’m going to break, or who can…” Hell no. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t continue.

“Who can what?” Danny asked, his voice soft, caring.

It was that gentleness and the nonjudgmental look on his face that made me say, “Who can match me more, I guess? In size and body type. I’m not saying he needs to be as big as me or anything, just…”

“You’re not into twinks,” Danny supplied for me.

“Yeah.” It wasn’t as if I’d never hooked up with one, but the more I got to know myself—and I let myself be who I was—the more I realized it wasn’t what really called to me.

“You want someone who could maybe hold you down as easily as you could him?”

My gaze shifted away, but my dick was all, fuck yes.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Jonathan.”

“I know,” I replied, but did I? Did I really?

His voice was low, only for me, when he added, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be fucked either. There’s a stigma attached to it that I’ll never understand, even within our own community sometimes.”

I couldn’t help but look around. No one was paying attention to us. The tables beside us were empty. I wasn’t thrilled that we ended up on this subject in the middle of a restaurant, but I appreciated having Danny to talk to about it. I appreciated hearing what he had to say, even if I felt uncomfortable.

“But also, just because he’s a twink doesn’t mean he can’t top the hell out of a guy. It’s one thing if you’re attracted to a specific look, but if you decide you’re searching for a top, remember, you can’t tell simply by someone’s body type.” Then, without me having to say it, Danny somehow realized I was ready for a subject change. He plucked a fry from his plate. “Here, try it.”

I took the greasy treat from him and ate it, the taste of parmesan bursting on my tongue. “Holy fuck, that’s good.”

“Right? I love their fries. You haven’t tried the ones on your plate either yet. If you don’t want me to eat them all, you better get going.”

I smiled and ate. While we laughed and talked and devoured our food, I realized how much I needed someone like him in my life…and how much I already really liked Danny.

CHAPTER TEN

Danny

After dinner, Jonathan and I walked around Midtown. I showed him my favorite spots for food, drinks, and this little antique store I loved. When we got back home, I asked him if he wanted to watch a movie, but he declined and went to his room. Disappointment swept through me. I hadn’t been ready for our evening to end.

But what was I going to do? Tie the guy up on my couch and force him? So I fucked around on an app for a while, but when a guy asked if I wanted to meet up, I ended up saying no. He called me a tease and said I wasted his time. Ya know, just a normal night.

And now it was Sunday, and I was heading home to visit my mom and sisters. I invited Jonathan—which was maybe a little weird as the only guy who ever went home with me was Elijah—but he said he was hanging out with Will anyway.

It was about a forty-five-minute drive to my childhood home, which gave me forty-five whole minutes to obsessively think about Jonathan. I didn’t know why his admission about his type had shocked me so much. Maybe I had my own biases to unpack. Or was it not what he’d said, but that he’d said it to me? I was pretty sure it was the first time he’d voiced the words, and he’d chosen me. Shit like that meant something to me. Jonathan was letting me in, and I would do my best not to let him down. Part of me liked being counted on. I had been known to thrive on that. Something about being important to people made me feel good, special even.