Page 103 of Poolside

Dinner that night was served on the porch: ribs and chicken thighs grilled by Rebecca, potato salad and coleslaw from David, “Mostly Sage’s work,” he had explained, deviled eggs made by Maggie, a Cobb salad brought by Wade Johnson, and some delicious empanadas made by Miguel and Richard. It was loud; conversations were interrupted by requests to pass more ribs, and it was all accompanied by the typical teasing, laughter, and love Tommy associated with this group. With thisfamily.

Keaton’s grandmother’s health wasn’t improving, and Keaton told Tommy she was going to spend some time at their family’s cabin in the Appalachians between radiation treatments. Keaton planned to take some time off from work to be there with her.

“We have some news,” Rebecca said loudly. The table went quiet. “We’re going to start trying to have a baby.”

The porch erupted in cheers. David, who sat beside Darius, planted a kiss on his friend’s cheek. “You guys are going to be the best parents a kid could ask for,” he said, a huge smile on his face.

Darius looked softly at Rebecca. “We’re excited.”

“But no putting the cart before the horse,” Rebecca added, looking around the table. “We know it will probably take time, but we wanted to share the news with you all.”

The conversation then turned to kids and their respective families. Tommy hadn’t known that Maggie had two younger siblings in their early twenties who still lived at home with her mother in western Georgia. “Things are tough for them. I send cash every month to help out, but they’re stuck in a shit situation,” she confessed, like she wasn’t sure how the group was going to react to that.

Tommy noticed Keaton watching her with a frown on his face.

“If you ever need help, you let us know, okay?” Sage said, reaching across the table to squeeze Maggie’s hand.

Maggie nodded in response.

“Where’s Arabelle this weekend?” Miguel asked Wade Johnson, at the other end of the table.

“Arabelle?” Tommy asked.

Wade shot him a tight smile. “My daughter.” Turning back to Miguel, he sighed. “She’s with her mom. We trade weekends right now, although the schedule gets tricky when the season starts up.”

Miguel squeezed his broad shoulder. “You know that girl adores you, right?”

“I hope so,” he shrugged. “Feels like I’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“What matters is that you’re showing up for her,” Miguel said.

“A toast!” Darius’ loud voice called out over the chatter. “To T, to friends, to family, and to dreams coming true!”

Tommy whooped, squeezing Chuck’s thigh with his free hand under the table. Chuck turned, his blue eyes clear and twinkling in the evening light. “To you,” he said softly, clinking his glass against Tommy’s beer.

“And to you,” Tommy replied, knocking his bottle against Chuck’s glass.

Everything around them grew distant and unfocused as they kissed, their tongues sliding together lazily, as if they both knew they had nothing but time.

The decision was made as they cleaned the kitchen: Tommy would do his swim around 11:00 am, allowing them all to sleep in and lounge in the morning. “That way you can eat a good breakfast and have plenty of time to digest,” Chuck said, as he slid a Tupperware of leftovers into the fridge.

As soon as the kitchen was clean, Tommy’s attention was elsewhere. He only had eyes for Chuck, who smiled at something David was saying. Chuck, who wore those cut-off jeans like they were painted onto him, whose peach skin had more freckles mapped over the surface than when they’d first started swimming together months ago.

Chuck, who was beautiful. Chuck, who washis.

Chuck must have felt him staring, because he glanced over and grinned knowingly. A second later he was walking away from David, closing the space between himself and Tommy until their t-shirts brushed together. Tommy’s breath caught in his chest as he felt Chuck’s breath against his ear. “Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered.

Tommy nodded.

He followed Chuck up the stairs, dizzy with want while a pressure pushed on his ribcage from the inside. They went to Chuck’s room—theirroom, now—and Tommy closed the door behind them.

Tommy leaned against the door, eyes raking up and down Chuck’s body where he sat on the edge of the bed. “Tell me how you’re feeling tonight,” Tommy said, his voice breathless. “About sex.”

Chuck wet his lower lip. “I want it,” he said, meeting Tommy’s gaze. “I want you to fuck me. I…We need to go slow, to get me out of my head. Just…go slow, okay?”

There was vulnerability in Chuck’s eyes as he looked up at him. Tommy couldn’t stand to be so far away from him anymore, not when Chuck so clearly needed reassurance that what he was asking for was okay.

Tommy crossed the room, stopping when he reached the edge of the bed, and cupped Chuck’s smooth-shaved jaw. “I’ve got you, baby,” Tommy promised.

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