Page 62 of Topping the Jock
Oh my god. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Reed was right. Monty and I had explored each other’s bodies in full. Countless times. I knew the exact spot to make him moan, and I knew just how to fuck him to make his toes curl. So why was this freaking me out so much?
Because it means something to me.
Montymeant something to me.
Sex was easy. But shit got harder when you realized you wanted more than that.
When we got to the restaurant, Monty met me at the front of his truck and rested a hand at my lower back as walked toward the entrance. I liked the feel of his hand there. I liked even more that he was so confident and open about his sexuality.
Blue Harbor was very welcoming to the LGBTQ community. Two men holding hands or kissing in public barely even caused a head turn. As it should be. But I got a feeling Monty would’ve still held on to me even if we’d been in the bible belt of the south. That’s just who he was.
“Welcome to Francesca’s,” the hostess greeted us once we walked in. “How many?”
“Two,” Monty answered, flashing a smile I was sure made her heart skyrocket. It sure did mine.
Returning his smile, she fumbled with the menus before grabbing them and stepping to the side. “Follow me.”
She led us to a table near the window before giving us our menus and walking back to the front. The restaurant had a romantic feel with the soft golden glow of lights, and the warm atmosphere added to that. Definitely a dating hotspot. Other couples sat around us, gently smiling through private conversations, their voices only murmurs with the instrumental music playing overhead.
“I hope I did okay picking a place,” Monty said, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the back of his chair. “The reviews were positive.”
He’d actually done research on the restaurant? Wow.
“It’s great.” Perfect, really. It felt intimate.
“They also don’t have any nuts or anything in their dishes, other than the pignoli that’s in the pesto,” he added. “But I read that pine nuts are more like seeds, so I hope it won’t cause any issues. Probably best to avoid the pesto just in case, though.” His smile fell as he looked at me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” A lump had wedged in my throat, and I cleared it. “I’m just… shocked. You really put a lot of thought into this.”
“This night is special to me. I wanted to get it right.” Monty studied his menu.
And I studied him.
For once, I didn’t see the old Monty who used to give me hell. I saw who he was now: someone considerate, funny, and damn sweet. He had taken all my preconceived notions about him and threw them out the damn window.
It would take longer to build trust, but I was receptive to the idea of possibly having something real with him someday.
“Do you know what you’re gonna get?” he asked, glancing up at me. “I’m thinkin’ about the chicken marsala.”
“Oh. Um.” I opened my menu and skimmed it. “The marsala actually sounds pretty good.”
“Hey, we really are twinkies, then.”
When I met his goofy grin, the center of my chest ached and warmth spread through me.
“Evening, gentlemen,” our waiter said after approaching our table. He looked like a college kid. Dark curly hair, a lanky body, and rounded glasses. “Apologies for the wait. Can I interest you in a bottle of wine tonight?”
“Yes, please,” I said, shooting a glance at Monty, who seemed surprised. “Can we have a bottle of pinot noir?”
It was one of the only red wines I liked and would pair well with the chicken marsala.
“Certainly,” he responded. “I’ll be right back with salad and bread. My name’s Logan. If you need anything else, let me know.”
“I hope pinot noir is okay,” I said to Monty once Logan walked away.
“Yeah, it’s good.” He cracked another smile. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a light blush to his cheeks. “Do you know a lot about wine?”
