Page 58 of Poolside

“I’m in,” Tommy said. “You can be on the paddle board with a floaty in case I drown.”

That got a laugh from Chuck. “You’re not going to drown,” he reassured, blue eyes finally rising to look at him. “We’ll make sure you’re ready.”

Tommy popped his goggles back into place. “Then tell me how the fuck I’m supposed to do this, coach.”

It turned out the way to prepare to swim a really long way was to swim a really long way. Five minutes later Tommy was trying to keep his breaths slow and consistent as he turned around at the wall. Five laps into a25 freaking lapswim, and he was already feeling the burn in his lungs.

Remembering what Chuck had taught him, he tried to focus on the last half of his stroke—the pull, Chuck called it, pushing the water back toward his waist and gaining extra power.

There was one nice thing about swimming for a long-ass time. Thinking. Uninterrupted thinking.

Tommy was proud of how well he’d kept his shit together around Chuck. Sure, there hadn’t been any dinners or after-work hangs since the locker room, but Tommy was trying to be cool about the whole thing. At least, that’s what he hoped he was projecting to the world. There might have been a few late nights spent curled up on his couch watching Nicholas Sparks movies and weeping into whatever leftovers he was snacking on, but he was trying.

Chuck was acting like nothing had happened. He’d looked especially tired that morning, his eyes a bit hazy and heavy before he snapped his goggles into place. His face had also been missing his usual wide smile, but it didn’t take away from how fuckingbeautifulthe man was. Leave it to Chuck to somehow look like a tragic hero of Celtic mythology when he was under-rested.

Tommy’s mind quieted with the monotony of the swim. His body had surprisingly reached the perfect level of warmed up that he could remember from his days playing basketball: his muscles were primed and tackled every stroke with a rhythm he felt he could probably maintain for a while. His breaths, while labored, were deep, using the full capacity of his lungs.

He could get used to this swimming thing.

* * *

Any hope Tommy had of talking to Chuck was shattered when the man practically ran from the pool as soon as they’d finished their workout, claiming an early meeting. Frustration tightened between Tommy’s shoulder blades as he climbed into his car.

They were going to talk, damn it. There was too much at stake for them to just throw their hands up and walk away. If Chuck had decided he didn’t want anything more with him after their hookup, if friendship was all he was looking for, then he needed to look Tommy in the eye and fuckingsaythat.

And Tommy needed to say his piece, too. Feelings as strong as the ones that gripped him were better spoken out loud than kept inside. He needed to be honest, for his sake and for Chuck’s.

Tommy struggled through the work day. He took all of his branch managers out to lunch, which significantly lifted his mood. There was nothing like seeing the people he’d trained stepping into leadership positions and succeeding. A lot of his managers had been his employees back when he was a branch manager himself.

He felt like a proud dad as he listened to Lacy explain her current sales strategy to the rest of the team. She was a young Black woman who, when he’d first met her, had been so shy that she’d barely been able to get through the interview. Now, she projected confidence and easily commanded the attention of her peers.

The lunch had been the high point in his day, which was balanced out by a too-long meeting with Rick. Tommy couldn’t help but wonder what a man like Rick would say if he told him he was bisexual. That he was physically and emotionally attracted to a gay man.

He couldn’t imagine Rick would respond well.

Finally the grind of the day was done, and all Tommy wanted to do was drive to Chuck’s house and collapse on his comfortable couch. He wanted to change into the sweatpants he kept stashed away in the guest room, steal some strawberries from the fridge, and maybe snatch Angel up for a snuggle.

Damn it. He wanted to be with Chuck.

Cursing, he slapped a hand on the steering wheel. Like it or not, he and Chuck were going to have a chat.

CHAPTER16

SO MUCH LESS

CHUCK

Thank fuck he was almost done with this med-switching bullshit.

Chuck lay curled up on the couch in his softest pajama pants and an old t-shirt, flipping through the channels. He’d absently chipped away at the sky-blue polish he’d painted his nails with earlier in an effort to cheer himself up.So much for that, he thought, frowning at the TV. He stopped when he landed on a show about fly fishing. He liked the trickling sound of the river where the older man waded in the water, softly explaining how the weather conditions impacted his casting technique. It was exactly the sort of soothing, mindless thing Chuck needed to distract himself from the fact that his whole body felt like a bruise.

A loud knock on the door startled him to his feet. He looked out the front window and felt his stomach flop uncomfortably at the SUV parked beside his car.

Tommy.

He opened the door, breath catching. He was so relieved to see his friend there, like Tommy’s presence on his doorstep might be enough to chase the clawing apathy away.

Tommy’s tan face was resolved as he looked up at Chuck, his hair flopping perfectly over his forehead. He’d obviously come right from work—his tie was still tight around his neck and his navy suit jacket was cut perfectly around his strong upper body.

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