Page 50 of The Quarterback
Did he want to see where they could go? That was the question, wasn’t it? Was he brave enough to try?
What on earth would Justin think?
Justin’s face in his heart. Colton’s smile in his mind. The taste of Colton’s lips on his tongue.
He’d remember the touch of Colton’s lips, and his body, forever.
* * *
They madeit back to the condo an hour early. He’d been chewing up the miles and gunning his Porsche, his thoughts outpacing their drive.
He pulled into the garage and parked. Killed the engine. Silence overcame them like a tidal wave, drawing him down, stealing away the half-prepared speech he’d fumbled through for the last sixty miles.
Colton sighed. He shoved open the door and heaved himself out, then grabbed his duffel from the trunk. He held Nick’s duffel out without meeting Nick’s gaze.
Silence carried them into the elevator, deposited them on Nick’s floor. Walked with them down the hall and then filled the inside of the condo when Nick held the door open for Colton.
Colton walked inside and froze at the opening to the kitchen and the living room. His shoulders slumped, and his chin dropped, and he squeezed the handle of his duffel as he stood there like a forgotten child left behind at an airport.
Nick came up at an oblique angle from Colton as he strode into the kitchen. He dropped his duffel beneath the breakfast bar, tossed his keys and his wallet down, and then braced his hands against the cool stainless steel sink.
Colton’s presence was evident everywhere in the condo. Their shoes were lined up by the front door, sneakers and sandals and oxfords, two by two by two. Colton’s hoodie hung on a hook in the entranceway next to his own pullover. Both PlayStation controllers were on the couch, spilled sideways from the last time they’d played. The PlayStation was on the floor, cables snaking up the wall to where the TV was mounted and sideways to the power outlet. One long charge cable was plugged in, too, where Colton sometimes charged his phone when they were playing together.
Two wineglasses in the sink. A half-finished bottle of sweet summer red corked on the counter.
Colton’s ball cap, Colton’s truck keys—unused, collecting dust. Colton’s ties, one from Tuesday, one from last Friday, thrown over the back of his barstools.
We already have a life together. He’s already a part of my world.
His gaze slid to Colton. He watched the younger man’s jaw clench and hold, watched his Adam’s apple bob like a blade. Saw his lips twist and thin, then twist again. “I’ll, uh,” Colton started. “I’ll pack my stuff. I never realized I was such a slob.”
“You’re not a slob.”
Colton shrugged. “I’ll be out of here in an hour.”
Panic. Pain right through him, a knife to his chest. “Colton, wait. Don’t.”
“I can’t stay. Not after what happened.”
“Look, can we…” He had no idea how to ask this. “I don’t remember everything from last night. I wasn’t drunk, but I… Maybe it’s the shock of it all. I never thought—”
Colton’s head sank even lower. “I’m sorry,” he grunted. “Ireallythought you were into it. I thought you wanted it, too.”
“I think I did,” Nick said in a rush. “I think I did want it, and I think I liked it. I just…” He pushed off from the counter. His toes curled inside his shoes. “Can we try again? See if we…”
Colton’s head shot up, and he frowned as Nick spoke. “You want to experiment? With me?” He looked away. “I don’t know if I can do that with you.”
“No, not experiment…” His voice trailed off. Actually, that’s exactly what he’d thought. He wanted to try again and see if they could work, physically. What was that, other than an experiment? What if they got to the end and he said, “Well, nah, not really. Interesting experience, but nope.”
Colton would be hurt all over again.
“Okay, yes.” He squared his shoulders. “Yes, I want to try again, to see if maybe something physical between us can work. I don’t know if it can, but I’m willing to try and figure it out. And yes, that is experimenting. But, Colton, I don’t know what else to do.” He saw Colton flinch. Saw the muscles in his neck flex and hold, his traps like drawn bowstrings. Nick swallowed. “The choice is yours.”
He waited. Colton’s eyes closed. His chest heaved, and all his emotions flickered over his face. Desire and hunger and craving and fear, loneliness and hope and a wash of terror. He could leave right now. They could let this go.
Or they could step into a new, unknown future.
“Can you go first?” Colton finally whispered. “Because last night, I kissed you, and when you kissed me back, I thought that meant you wanted it, too. And I’m scared to kiss you right now, or touch you, because I’m afraid I pushed you, and that I might push you again—”
