Page 47 of Jacked
He swallows hard and that annoyingly mature voice in the back of my head reminds me that there are other priorities before I can tear his clothes off and bite his nipples again.
I whirl around to grab a coffee mug and fill it.
“Actually,” he says. “Do you want to go for a run?”
I set the mug down and look at him over my shoulder.
“Are you trying to avoid talking?” I arch an eyebrow at him. If he doesn’t want to talk about last night, I’m not going to force him. But I might go fucking insane wondering what it meant to him and how he’s dealing.
He quirks a half smile. “I can talk and run at the same time. Can you?”
I chuckle. “Sure. Let’s do it.”
It only takes a minute for us to get our shoes on and get out the door. As soon as we hit the sidewalk and start moving, I can see the wisdom in AJ’s suggestion. There’s a lot less pressure when we’re not sitting and staring right at each other. I can blame my racing heart on the pace he sets that I try to keep up with instead of nerves. Our footsteps fall into a matching rhythm and my thoughts slowly organize themselves with every steady breath I puff out.
“So, you freaking out or what?” I ask.
“No,” he says simply.
Oh, thank fuck. If he’d said he regretted last night, that would have been a kick in the nuts.
“Good.” I nod as we run. Another benefit to his plan is that short, simple answers don’t feel out of place or awkward. We can keep it simple and blame it on needing to save our breath.
We jog another couple of blocks in comfortable silence, and I try to remember what else I wanted to ask him. There’s a lot of stuff I’m curious about, like what made him kiss me last night and if he knew he liked guys on some level before last night or if this is brand new. But those aren’t the kinds of things that have easy one-word answers.
We reach a crosswalk and AJ pulls his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face. I let myself appreciate the cut of his abs and the dark trail of hair I ran my fingers through last night.
“Do you want to do it again?” The question comes out deep and husky.
He drops his shirt and meets my eyes. His expression is dark and hot, just like when I checked him out in his bed this morning. Like he likes me looking at him. Like he wants me just as much as I want him, even if we still have a hell of a lot to figure out.
He stares at me for half a beat.
“Yeah,” he says, and then the light changes and we take off running again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
AJ
We endup jogging to the same breakfast place I stopped at the morning after we first jerked off together.
“You hungry?” I grunt, slowing to catch my breath and jerking my chin towards the café.
Slater pulls his hat off and uses the back of his arm to wipe the sweat off his brow before replacing it. He squints into the sun towards the café and nods.
“Yeah, I could eat.”
It’s later in the morning already, so the place is a lot busier than last time. The weather cooling off a little probably helps too. The inside is packed, and the tables outside are full too. I spot a couple of people getting up and I nudge Slater’s arm.
“Grab that table and I’ll get our food?” I suggest.
“Sure. Get me a bacon and egg sandwich?” He pats his pockets and his face falls. “Shit, I didn’t grab my wallet.”
I wave him off. “I got it.”
He hesitates. Is it weird that I offered to pay? It’s not something I usually think twice about with friends whensomeone forgets their wallet or doesn’t have the cash on hand. But the fact that we got naked and humped each other like wild animals last night puts it in a different context. If I pay, does that make this a date? Jogging definitely isn’t a date, but breakfast could be. Unless gay dating has completely different rules. Maybe joggingcanbe a gay date.
Slater is already weaving between the tables to snag the empty one before someone else can, totally unaware of the rabbit hole I’ve slipped down wondering how to date a dude. Do I evenwantto date a guy? Hooking up is one thing, but the whole dinner, small talk, thinking about a future together stuff, can I picture that with Slater?
