Page 7 of Filthy Sweet

Owen fusses with his drink, avoiding looking at me. Just like when we ran into each other a couple days ago, there’s a charge to his energy, buzzing behind his shy hesitance.

Finally, he looks up to me, locking gazes, his hazel eyes bright behind his glasses. “Yeah. We’re celebrating because I came out of the closet.” He swallows. “I’m gay,” he adds quickly.

Fuck, he’s cute.

I lean back in my chair and take a sip of my beer. “Hell yeah. Congrats, man.”

It’s definitely not a surprise to me. I had a sense of Owen back when we still lived in Idaho, and that treasure trove of sex toys opened the possibility that he might be exploring not-exactly-hetero recreation. But coming out is a big deal. It takes a lot of courage, so I manage to push aside all the stress from work and the newspaper and offer him a genuine smile.

“I’m happy for you. And you know, if there’s anything you ever need from me, just holler.”

Owen’s smile grows. “Thanks, Fox. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. You’re Reggie’s little bro. You’re family to me.”

Owen bites down on his lip and glances at his glass, which is nearly empty, his shyness rising back up.

Reggie upends his mug of beer. “I’ll grab another round,” he says happily. “Be right back.”

Owen and I are left alone at the table. For a few seconds, I just sit there and eat up how adorkable he is. But when he fidgets and his shyness kicks up another notch toward anxiety, I remember how quiet he can get and realize that it’s up to me to ease him.

The kid just came out, after all.

“So, you dating anyone? Any cute guys in PhD world?”

Owen shakes his head. “I haven’t had a boyfriend yet.”

I nod. “Cool. I’m sure whenever you decide you’re ready, the guys will be all over you.”

A blush grows on his cheeks, which I try to stop noticing. “Yeah, thanks. And sorry about the newspaper thing, by the way.”

I shrug. “It’s nothing.”

Owen arches an eyebrow. “Really? Having your sex pictures in the newspaper is nothing?” He shakes his head quickly. “It seems like a lot to me.”

I cock up half a grin. “Okay, it’s kind of a lot.”

Owen laughs, the sound of it light and beautiful, but strong, too. “Good. That makes me feel slightly less uptight.”

I tilt my beer bottle at him. “You’re clearly not too uptight,” I say, referencing his box of sex toys, then wink.

The look on his face is priceless. It’s like watching a movie unfold. First, his eyes grow wide behind his glasses, and his mouth falls open, a look of surprise that turns into horror. Then, his blush intensifies, glowing across his cheeks, and he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, almost smiling.

I feel bad for teasing him, pushing him when he’s embarrassed, but fuck is that blush nice.

“Sorry,” I say with a chuckle. “I promise, I’ll never bring that up again.”

“It’s not that,” Owen says. He tries to drink from his empty cocktail glass, and when he upturns it, the ice falls onto his face. He sucks an ice cube into his mouth, then sets the glass down and looks back up at me. “It’s just—I think I gave you the wrong impression,” he mumbles around the ice cube.

I glance over my shoulder at the bar and spot Reggie, still waiting for his drinks.

This is actually something I can do for Owen. He doesn’t have a lot of friends, I know, and even though Reggie is accepting and surprisingly smart about sex, that doesn’t mean Owen wants to talk about dildos with his straight brother.

I shrug. “Trust me. The majority of queer men are openminded. If you want to bring some dildos or panties into the bedroom, you’ll find plenty of guys who are happy to oblige.” I smile. “Hell, who doesn’t appreciate a guy in panties?”

“Oh. Wow, okay,” Owen says. “You don’t have to say that. Really.”

“It’s true. I’m sure you look hot.” I decide I’ve tortured him enough and offer an easy smile. “So, tell me about your new job.”

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