Page 35 of Jacked
I can’t let Slater be the only straight dude at the club. Solidarity and all that shit.
Butch smiles and does a fist-pump.
“Hell yeah. I’ll text you both the details.”
“Cool.” Slater sounds genuinely enthusiastic.
“Cool,” I echo, trying to ignore the fresh knots forming in the pit of my stomach.
I can’t decide if they’re just nerves at the thought of going to a gay club or if they have more to do with Slater. Is something off with him or am I reading into things? I try to meet his eyes through the mirror again, but he’s focused on fiddling with his lifting belt.
I’m probably just being paranoid. The cologne, that look… I’m sure they don’t mean anything. Everything’s chill with Slater and me. How could it not be?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SLATER
Bisexual.
Bisexual.
Bisexual.
The word has been bouncing around in my head since Alvin said it hours ago. Is that what I am? And if it is, what does that even mean? Aside from the obvious. Do I want to actually date guys? I glance over at AJ on the couch next to me, all fucking huge and muscled and hairy, slouching comfortably with his thighs splayed wide and one arm tucked behind his head. His party tit is covered for a change, and all I can think about it reaching over and nudging his tank top out of the way so I can see his chocolatey nipple.
My throat tightens and my cock starts to swell.
AJ looks over at me, quirking one eyebrow curiously. Shit, I didn’t say any of that out loud, did I? I don’t know where he’s at with everything, but convincing him I meant “chocolatey nipple” in a platonic way might be a little tricky.
“What’s up with you?”
“Up?” I laugh, but it sounds all wrong, too forced and rusty.
“Yeah, you’ve barely said two words since we got home. Usually you’ve got more commentary about the game than the announcers do.”
I pull my hat off and start fidgeting, reshaping the brim while I take a look at the TV. I’ve been vaguely aware of the baseball game but too lost in my thoughts to pay much attention to it. Considering it’s actually a Dodgers game, that’s saying something. I’m not sure what to say to AJ though.Yeah, sorry, I’m just thinking really fucking hard about the fact that I think I want to kiss you.
That thought is like an electric zap to my nuts. Holy shit, I want to kiss AJ.
I mean, fuckingduh, right? I’ve been thinking about it nonstop for days now, but this is the first time I’m full-on admitting it to myself. I want to kiss AJ.
I shove my hat back onto my head and rub my hand over my mouth, like that might convince my lips and my brain to have a little fucking chill.
“You think Butch’s birthday will be weird?” he asks casually, his attention back on the game now, his knee bumping against mine.
The tiny bit of contact makes me jumpy, twitchy, hot all over. But his question is like a pin stuck in a balloon. I’m sitting here having some kind of bisexual awakening and AJ is basically a million miles away. He’s worried going to the gay club on Friday night will be awkward. Maybe he’s freaked out by the idea that someone might hit on him or that everyone there will assume he’s gay?
Is any of this as confusing for him as it is for me? Or is he really and truly just a straight dude happy to casually jerk off together in a totally platonic way?
“I’m sure he’ll understand if you decide not to go.” I shrug, but the motion feels jerky as I bounce my knee and try not to fidget.
He tears his attention away from the game to look over at me again. A crease forms between his eyebrows and he frowns.
“You want to go?” he asks.
It feels like the kind of question that’s secretly a different question. Like he’s asking me to reassure him that we’rebothstill just straight dudes goofing around because we’re bored. Like he’s wondering ifIwant to dance and flirt and hook up with guys at a club.
Do I?
