A war broke out inside of Marcus. One side was trying to be mature and take the death blow like a man. The other side was losing its shit. No. No no no. Jamie Prince didn’t get to go on dates. Other men did not get to spend time with Jamie Prince. They didn’t deserve him. What if they tried to touch him? Worse, what if Jamie wanted to be touched by someone that wasn’t Marcus? Jesus. Christ. It was totally possible. It could happen. No, it would happen…
Unless Marcus stepped up.
Unless he grew into the skin that suddenly felt nine sizes too small and became what Jamie needed. It had never been more apparent that if Marcus stayed in the closet, he’d have to let Jamie go. Oh fuck, he couldn’t do that. Jamie was going on one date and already, a noose was tightening around his throat.
But Marcus trusted Jamie. If Jamie thought spending time with other men who shared his preferences would help the fear of exposure subside, then he would do it. Maybe he’d learn a way to be Jamie’s man. No, he had to learn. The only other choice was losing Jamie.
“Marcus, I’m proud of how far you got today. I’m proud of you.” Jamie paused while that sank in—and it did—from the top of Marcus’s head down to his feet. “There will be other opportunities like this. Whenever you’re ready. You don’t have to rush into anything—”
“I’ll go.”
After a beat, Jamie nodded once. “You’re sure?”
Even if watching Jamie on a date was going to be absolute torture, sitting home and wondering what the hell was going on would be far worse. Plus, he didn’t like Jamie riding the train alone at night, not that he would say it out loud and piss the guy off.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Marcus attempted a smile, but it felt sickly. “Wherever we’re going, it’s not going to beat Monster Jam.”
Jamie’s lips jumped at one end. “Nothing can beat that.” When the silence stretched too long, Jamie picked up his shirt and came out from behind the counter. Static climbed Marcus’s spine as Jamie passed behind him on the way to the door. “See you, Diesel.”
Marcus swallowed hard. “See you, Jamie.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Their train hadn’t even arrived in Brooklyn yet and already the whole night felt wrong.
First of all, Marcus had shown up at the LIRR station to meet Jamie looking and smelling incredible, which had thrown Jamie off. Big time. Seriously, it wasn’t even cologne that wafted across the train seat and made Jamie’s groin tighten. Just shaving cream and laundry detergent and the beer Marcus had probably downed for courage on his way out the door. Until now, Jamie had been the sole keeper of Marcus’s secret. But his sexuality wouldn’t be a secret when they met up with Kurt and his friends tonight.
It also wouldn’t be a secret that Marcus was…available.
Jamie was bringing a hulking, suntanned muscleman out tonight and essentially dangling him like a carrot in front of other single men—and…why? Why was he doing this again?
Marcus wasn’t ready to have a relationship out in the open. Not with anyone.
And that’s what Jamie needed.
He’d been out of the closet for a long time and he wasn’t going back in. Not even for Marcus. The man didn’t mean to make Jamie feel like an embarrassing secret, but he did. So they were going to be platonic friends. Jamie would help Marcus through this awkward time in his life, because dammit, he cared about the big jerk. In the meantime, Jamie couldn’t put his own happiness on hold. Not for someone who might keep to the shadows indefinitely.
Even if he couldn’t seem to make it a full five minutes these days without replaying that kiss on the boardwalk. Jesus, had anyone ever kissed Jamie like that? A soul kiss. That’s what it had been. A once-in-a-lifetime, movie-quality, wrecking ball of a kiss.
If he wasn’t thinking about the kiss, he was playing back conversations with Marcus.
I bet you say, “this is a one-time thing, Randall Jennings the Third” and give them bored eyes, but you would probably give them the chance again, because you hate giving bad grades.
I don’t know much, but I know Jamie Prince.
Apparently even better than Jamie knew himself.
“You look nice,” Marcus said, speaking for the first time since they’d met in the train station and walked in a two-man funeral procession to the platform, tickets in hand. “I was going to wear a T-shirt, too, but I wasn’t sure if I should have my tattoo visible.”
Jamie glanced over. “Why?”
Marcus pulled up the sleeve of his long-sleeved gray Henley to reveal his forearm. “I don’t know. Doesn’t it just make it obvious how confused I am?” His attention fell to Jamie’s mouth and the air between them grew heavy. “I mean, how confused I…was.”