Page 19 of Knot That Serious

“Maybe I will,” Beckett played along.

They circled around to Jack’s interests, too. Which, apparently, also happened to be reality television.

“Have you heard about that new reality dating show coming?” Jack asked him.

Beckett cocked his head to the side. “No, what is it?”

“It’s Knot Your— or no, Tie You— no, uh..” Jack closed his eyes, nose scrunching in the cutest form of concentration Beckett had ever seen, before he snapped his eyes open. “Tie the Knot!”

“Is there a trailer?” Beckett asked.

“Not yet,” Jack said. “It’s about an omega choosing her pack.”

Beckett chuckled. “That’s gonna be wild.” Reality television was so ridiculous. He wondered if he’d be watching the new show with Jack.

Jack was interested in other things besides television and admin and his best friend. Like his bike. Beckett saw an in, and he took it.

“Gonna give me a ride?” Beckett asked innocently.

Jack’s droll stare said he saw right through Beckett. “Next time I’ll bring you a helmet.”

“Well, that’s not very spontaneous,” Beckett said, though his cheeks were warm.

Next time?

“Safety over spontaneity any day,” Jack declared. “I learned my lesson.”

“Lesson?” Beckett frowned, heart clenching.

“I was in a wreck a handful of years back. Fucked this knee,” he said, wiggling his left one. “Scared the shit out of Eli, but it wasn’t my fault. I healed up okay, though, no major problems.”

“Jack, that’s terrifying!” Beckett cried. “I’m glad you’re okay now.”

He shrugged, and meanwhile Beckett wanted to wrap him in a protection bubble. “It’s fine, I promise. Never leave home without the helmet. We’re too old for all that.”

Late twenties was hardly old, in Beckett’s personal opinion. So what if he was biased?

“We?” Beckett asked, chuckling.

“I have a few friends I ride with,” Jack said, running a hand through his hair with the tattooed arm.

Beckett swallowed, and then Jack’s words registered.

“Jack, are you one of the guys I always see sitting in the lot of the movie theater?” he whispered.

Jack looked purely offended. “I’ll have you know those are teenagers. I hang out with grown men.” Then he averted his gaze and mumbled something too low to hear.

“What was that last part?”

Jack lifted his gaze. “I said we hang out at the strip mall. Like adults.”

Beckett laughed, and clocked Jack’s pleased expression. “Of course, my mistake.”

They drank the rest of their cream sodas for dessert and continued talking through the evening. Eventually, the waiter sat their check at the end of the table, and they both reached for it.

They paused with their hands over the receipt paper, and Jack arched a brow at him.

“Let me,” Beckett said. “I’m the one who invited you out.”

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