Page 33 of The Brotherly Shove

There was a moment right before I fell asleep last night where I was scared that I would wake up and everything would feel different. That Breaker would regret coming to my room, or that I would have some sort of freak out about having my first sexual experience with another man.

It was only for a moment, because once I fell asleep, I dreamt of thick, muscled quarterback's thighs, beard burn on my lips and a man who melts under my touch like a strawberry ice cream cone on a warm summer night.

Waking up with Breaker in my arms felt as natural and as mindless as taking my next breath. Sitting here in this diner with my hand on his thigh and his eyes piercing into mine feels like an alignment of all the stars and galaxies and whatever other celestial, witchy shit a person can think of. Each domino toppled over at the precise moment and followed the golden thread that lead Breaker and I to this moment right here, right now. It's kismet. Fate. Destiny. Whatever you want to call it. It was all just meant to be.

I would be content to just sit here until our food comes, looking at his gorgeous face and trying to figure out what kind of good deeds I had in a past life to deserve Breaker Lawson by my side. The worried wrinkle on Breaker's forehead tells me he has something on his mind, though, and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the kinds of questions he has for me right now.

"You can ask me anything, B. Let's get it all out there," I say as I sip from my coffee, shuddering a bit at the bitter taste. I prefer my coffee to be one part coffee, ninety-nine parts sugary syrups and flavored creamers as opposed to burnt with a few half and halfs tossed in. But I'll take caffeine however I can get it right now.

Breaker pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he continues to look at me, and I give his thigh a reassuring squeeze.

"How did you…" his voice is soft, a whisper barely audible over the chatter of the people dining around us. "I mean, when did you…" he trails off, so I fill in the blanks for him.

"When did I realize I liked you as more than a friend?" I ask, keeping my voice low as well. I have no problems standing on this table right now, setting my phone to go live on Instagram and announcing to the world that I'm in love with Breaker, but I'm willing to follow his lead at the moment. In fact, it's probably for the best that we keep…whatever this is between us for now. He nods, and I shrug.

"It's hard to say. Your first day at practice back in college, you took my breath away. I didn't realize at the time that it was attraction, but I also know one of my first thoughts was that you were Ryan Gosling level handsome. I can't pinpoint exactly when what I thought was just a friend crush started to feel like more, but at a certain point, you and I together just felt inevitable. It's not like either of us really dated throughoutcollege. Besides the odd hookups we had with other people, it was always you and me."

Our food arrives just then, and my plate barely makes contact with the table before I'm digging my fork into the deliciousness and shoveling a stupid amount of food into my mouth. I pick up two pieces of bacon and start munching them as well while Breaker soaks in what I just told him.

"I guess that makes sense. It sort of happened the same way for me," he says as he cuts into his omelette. I know it's greedy, but I really want to ask him if I can have a bite of it.

"You mean it wasn't love at first sight for you, B? You didn't spot my wiry chest hair poking out of the top of my t shirt and the pit stains that formed before we even started working out and feel the need to have me right there, right then on the Panther's practice turf?" I tease, nudging his shoulder playfully.

"Believe it or not, dick, I did think you were hot. I've always thought you were hot, Len."

Now it's my turn to blush. I know what I look like. I'm big and burly, hairy and chubby, athletic and manly. I love myself, but I'm not everyone's cup of tea or shot of whiskey. I've always been okay with that. People are allowed to have their personal preferences when it comes to appearance and aesthetic. Hearing Breaker call me hot, though? Man that does something for my ego. And, if I'm being honest, my libido.

I continue to house my pancakes like they're water in a crystal blue stream and I'm a man who just found his way out of the desert while Breaker just sort of picks at his hashbrowns. I know there's more that he wants to know, so I decide to spare him the indecency of actually asking.

"It wasn't until the game we played in Chicago a few years ago that it all clicked and I realized I wanted you. All of you, in every way possible. It was like a giant billboard flashed in front of my eyes.You have feelings for Breaker. You want to kiss him.You want to touch him. You're not as straight as you thought you were." I punctuate each statement with a snap of my fingers.

"Chicago…" he says as he scrunches up his nose. "My sophomore year? The game we lost that you swear was rigged?" he asks.

"Because it was rigged," I insist.

"Len…did you…when you were in the bathroom in our room that night, were you thinking about me?" he asks, the tips of his ears going bright red. I don't know why, if anything I should be the one feeling embarrassed, but I'm not.

"Breaker Booger Lawson, were you listening at the door while I jerked off?" I whisper dramatically, feigning shock and grabbing dramatically chest.

"Oh fuck off, Len. No one gets to call me Booger but Ma, and that's only because she's terrifying," he laughs, tossing a balled up napkin at my face. A napkin that I snag out of the air with the ease and precision of Rob Gronkowski, if I do say so myself.

"And anyway, I wasn'ttryingto listen," he continues. "Butyouweren't exactly trying to be quiet either."

I shrug as I chew on my last bit of pancakes.

"I was. Thinking about you, that is. Sorry if that's weird, or whatever. I didn't mean to, but apparently I have a very specific fetish that involves watching you loop a belt around your waist and buckle it." I give him a nonchalant head nod, trying to play the whole thing down. I'm truly not embarrassed, but I also don't want to admit that amongst the fantasies of hands, a few images of him in a tux standing across from me at an altar might have slipped in once or twice in the years since that night. That's how I knew I was well and truly in over my head for him.

I mean really, what self-respecting man jerks it to images of a hypothetical wedding day?

"It's not weird. It's just ironic. I mean I've always thought you were sexy but I'm also an expert at repressing my physicalattraction towards both men and women. I'm really good at playing the nonchalant game. But even though I found you attractive, I genuinely saw you as just a friend. But that night, hearing you through the door? That was the first time I let myself see you in a sexual light, despite my better intentions. How funny that the same night changed everything for both of us?" He looks at me from under the brim of his baseball cap, his smile as genuine as a little kid's, and I melt under his gaze.

"I told you, B. We are inevitable. We were always meant to be." I nudge his knee with mine, still holding on to his thigh under the table. I never, ever want to let go of it.

Breaker gazes at me, his eyes going glassy as they travel down to my lips. I feel our faces move closer together, millimeter by millimeter, like the gravitational pull between us is too much for our mere human forms to resist. Breaker tilts his head, ever so slightly, a movement that I'm only able to clock due to our proximity and the way I've memorized him, but I snap out of the haze before he can move any closer.

"Baby," I whisper, squeezing his leg in my palm. It's my turn to pump the brakes on the PDA train. "We still have some stuff we need to discuss." I watch his face fall, and regret clouds my brain. I know one of us has to be thinking clearly right now, and from the way he was practically fucking me with his eyes a moment ago, it's going to have to be me.

"Right." He shakes his head like he's trying to shake the moment off completely. "I'm being stupid. I mean, you're not even out, and here I am ready to maul your face in a diner that smells like grease and malt milkshakes." I see him start to fold in on himself, pushing his half eaten omelet out of the way and tucking his hands on the table, where he stares down at them.

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