Page 41 of Poolside

“What?”

Tommy’s eyes dropped involuntarily to Chuck’s mouth, his lower lip chapped from sleep, and felt a sharp urge to lick it. “I kissed you last night because I wanted to kiss you, and, if you want, I’d like to kiss you again.”

Chuck stared at him with a blank expression on his face, and Tommy’s chest tightened as the silence stretched on. “But,” Chuck began, drawing out the word as he stared at him. “You’re straight.”

“I want you,” Tommy said with absolute certainty.

“What does that even mean, Tommy? You’re one of my best friends, and for as long as I’ve known you you’ve been a straight man. You were married to a woman. And now, what? You want to take a walk on the gay side?”

Tommy swallowed, doubt starting to creep in. It wasn’t doubt in himself or what he wanted: while he had no idea how to explain what he was feeling for Chuck, he was certain it was real. It was the most real and honest thing he’d ever felt in his life.

But the questions Chuck was asking made everything feel a lot less simple.

“I don’t know,” Tommy finally answered, truthfully. “I don’t know what to call it. All I know is it’s you, Chuck. It’s just you.”

For a moment Chuck looked devastated, anguish clear in his bright eyes before he shook his head and his expression shifted, like he’d made up his mind.

“I can’t,” he started, his voice soft. “I’m not going to experiment with you, T.”

Regroup, Tommy.He forced a smile, shoving down the hurt and embarrassment. “Right. Of course. That totally makes sense. Got it.”

Warmth surrounded his wrist and Tommy glanced down in time to see Chuck’s fingers tighten around him. He looked up, meeting Chuck’s bright blue gaze.

Tommy opened his mouth to say something, but Chuck beat him to it. “If this is real, and you’re having feelings for a man for the first time, then you should explore them. You should try and—” There was a little hitch in his voice, and Tommy watched his throat work as he swallowed. “Experiment, you know. Do all of it. There’s an incredible community of people who can support you, and I have no doubt you’ll find someone, Tommy. You are,” his breath hitched and he shook his head. “You’re everything a person could ever want.”

But not what Chuck wanted, was unspoken in the soft morning air between them.

Tommy didn’t know how to explain that he didn’t want to explore or experiment. That the feelings that had woken up in his body were only directed toward the man who was currently turning him down in the most kind, Chuck-like way.

“I get it, man,” Tommy said. “I’ve gotta head out. But I’ll see you Monday morning, yeah?”

Chuck watched him, his expression still closed off. “I’ll be there.”

Tommy rolled up off of the bed, stretching his arms over his head as he swallowed against the nausea turning his stomach. “Have a good Sunday, Red Racer,” he called out over his shoulder.

He smiled as he heard Chuck’s surprised laugh behind him, making quick work of getting his stuff and heading out the door.

Fuck. Tommy heeded to regroup, to figure out where to go from here.

Maybe Chuck had a point. Maybe he needed to sit with whatever these new feelings were for a bit longer. Maybe heshouldexperiment with someone else. But even the idea of doing what he wanted to do to Chuck—what he wanted Chuck to do to him—with another man, made his stomach heave.

* * *

By Monday at noon Tommy was so exhausted that putting on the sunny disposition expected of him at work felt like ripping off a hangnail. He was stuck in their main office finishing up a sales report Rick needed by the next day, when typically he would be bouncing between branches and checking in on his team in the field.

He’d spent a restless Sunday in his apartment, glaring at the boxes lining the walls, but unable to muster up the willpower to commit to unpacking. He’d gotten groceries for the week, including the molasses he’d need for his ginger snap cookie recipe, and had grabbed dinner with Keaton.

Keaton had been his usual self, curious to hear more about Tommy’s current read:Alexander the Great: The Anabasis and the Indica, a heady book written back in the second century by the Greek historian, Arrian. Conversation had turned from history to fishing to Keaton’s younger sister, who was headstrong and insistent on rebelling against the family’s expectations.

There were a few moments throughout the dinner when Tommy thought about telling him about Chuck, but something held him back. Maybe it was the way Chuck had questioned his advances that was still throwing Tommy off, casting doubt on the certainty he’d felt.

For whatever reason, he’d kept his mouth shut.

“Littleton.”

Tommy swiveled his chair, without adjusting his slumped posture as he faced Deb. “What?” he asked, not bothering to warm his tone.

She arched her brows at him. “What’s gotten into you?”

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