Eastshore Tigers 01 - Strong Side (10 page)

I keep staring at him, hoping he'll get it on his own. When he doesn't say anything else, I shake my head.

"I came here for a hookup. What the fuck did you think was going to happen?"

He looks away from me, holding his head. I don't know what he's feeling right now, but I'm completely overwhelmed by a mix of total shock, agitation, and confusion.

"What would've happened if I hadn't been here? Would you have let that guy fuck you? Maybe let him drag you off to the bathroom or something? Or let him blow you right here in front of everybody?"

I can't even believe what I'm hearing. "You’re being a real asshole right now, Jason. What the fuck is your deal?"

He takes a step back from me and looks genuinely distressed. It only takes a moment of that expression to rip my anger away. This fucker has me on one hell of a roller coaster ride. One second I'm pissed at him, and the next I'm feeling sorry for him.

"I don't know. I gotta get out of here."

"Fine.” Back to being catty, I guess. "It's not like I asked you to come here, anyway."

He looks up at me, nods, and then turns and bolts for the door, not paying attention to anything around him. As I watch him storm out, I know I can't go through with whatever little indignant hissy fit I'm planning. Swearing under my breath, I toss some cash on the bar to settle our tab, and follow him out to the street.

This time, his long ass legs aren't going to save him. By the time I throw open the doors, he's at the end of the block, hands stuck deep inside his pockets, waiting for the all-clear to cross at the intersection.

I don't even know what I'm going to say once I get up there, but I can't just let him storm off. He was a dick in there, but a part of me is afraid there's something more going on here. There’s also a part of me that's afraid I've just thrown our friendship away, even though he’s the one sticking his nose into my business.

Fuck. So much for being assertive.

"Hawk! Wait up." He moves across the street at a good clip, and I make it to the curb. "Jason!"

I swear again and follow him across the street, even as the signal changes. Someone lays on their horn. I flip them off, then jog up behind Hawk and eventually step in front of him. He looks away from me immediately.

"Look, I'm sorry. I lost my shit back there. I just need some time alone."

I should just let him be. He's throwing down boundaries, and I don't want to run this any further into the ground. But his behavior is freaking me out.

"Sorry for fucking up your chances," he says again, the words almost mumbled.

He won't look at me, so, running on instinct, I put my hand on his face. His stubble is rough under my fingers, and I feel a little tingle run through me at just this innocent contact.

Jesus. Not now.

"I don't care about that guy."
I messaged him to get my mind off of you.
"I just want to know what the hell is going on. Are we cool or not?"

He just looks at me, and his blue eyes have this openness about them that I've never really noticed before.

But right now, I have no idea what's going on in his head. There’s no way. Because every signal—from the way he leans in close to me, to the way his gaze keeps flicking down to my lips—is telling me he wants to kiss me.

His tongue darts over his lips in the same way it does when he’s busy concentrating. Only this time, his focus seems to be on me.

I can't even catch up to the possibility before his mouth comes down on mine.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

- Jason -

I have no idea what I'm doing.

Kissing another guy? Really? And a guy I'm starting to consider my best friend, to boot?

But I can't stop it. The moment he puts his hand on my face, I'm done for.

I had to get out of that bar because I couldn't stand the thought of Griff going home with some random guy. The feeling that's been bothering me isn't just annoyance at him possibly ditching me. It’s jealousy.

All night, I watched them. I watched that asshole Tommy flirting and groping and fucking him with his eyes. I watched Griff respond to it. Watched the way he licked his lips and leaned in closer.

And that’s what I ended up focusing on. His lips. I wondered what they would feel like. What they would taste like.

I had to know.

All of these fucking emotions are so pent up inside of me that I just have to get them out somehow. I should've waited until Saturday and just worked my ass off during the game like I always do when I need to forget, but it's already too late for that.

The second my lips press to Griff's, I know it's not just going to be a quick peck. This isn’t some kind of test between bros to see if I'm actually interested.

I'm definitely interested.

His lips are softer than I expected, and while he's stiff at first, it doesn't take him long to respond. His mouth melds to mine, and the light scratch of his stubble is a strange new sensation that just seems to heighten the little shocks of pleasure that explode at the end of my nerves.

I don't know how a first kiss between Griff and I should go. It's not like I planned this. But I know what I need, and it isn't soft or gentle.

My lips crash roughly to his. I take his face in my hands, feeling the short, coarse hair beneath my fingers, and use my body to push him backwards.

I don't even know where we are, but when he stops, letting out a puff of breath as his back hits a wall, I take full advantage.

I kiss him in a way I've never kissed anybody before. His mouth opens to me on a moan, and it's the sexiest sound I've ever heard. It’s also an invitation. I take it immediately, thrusting my tongue into his mouth and meeting his eagerly. His own hands move down to my chest, and he grips my shirt in his fingers, pulling me even closer.

I kiss him until I can't breathe anymore, and after a gulp of air I go right back to kissing him, pressing my body to his the same way we were pressed together in the park. Only this time, it's deliberate, and the throb in my jeans doesn't surprise me at all.

My body's on fire, and everything in me craves this closeness. I want to somehow be nearer to him, but practically every inch of me is melded to him, his hard body against mine. And the more we kiss, his tongue meeting mine time and time again, my lips crashing against his teeth, the more I can feel him get harder still.

I can feel the bulge against my thigh, and, running on instinct, I adjust myself against him so that he can feel me, too.

He lets out another moan that I swallow greedily, and I work my hands down to the sides of his neck, his shoulders, then eventually to his hips, pulling him closer against me.

The honk of a horn followed closely by a few whistles and slurred, feminine cheers of encouragement rushes over me like a bucket of ice water.

I pull myself away from Griff, and he just stands there—or rather, leans there—his back against the wall, eyes half lidded, lips a little swollen, face flushed.

There's a part of me that just wants to go right back to what we were doing. Desire courses through my body, so hot and so strong that I don't feel fully in control of myself. Slowly—way too slowly—the world around us starts to come back, and I realize we're standing on a street corner, giving everybody a show.

"Jesus," Griff breathes, his chest heaving.

I can't seem to catch my own breath, and it doesn't help when panic begins to set in.

I just kissed another guy. And because I can't seem to do anything half-assed, I didn't just kiss him with the mild curiosity of an experimental college student. I kissed the fuck out of him, like I wanted to devour him right here in public.

A part of me
still
wants that.

I rake a hand through my hair, letting out a heavy breath. I have no idea what to say. What are you supposed to say when you suddenly realize you aren’t straight?

Because there's no denying it now. I liked it. Not just my body, though there's no denying that, either. My bulge is huge right now, and my cock is straining painfully against my jeans.

But I enjoyed it on some deeper level, too. Something about it just clicked. Like it's been a long time coming.

It's overwhelming, and even though Griff is staring at me, waiting for an answer he rightfully deserves, I can't give him one.

"Sorry. I don't…"

I haven't stuttered or tripped over my words since I was in grade school. But now my tongue feels heavy in my mouth, and I can't manage to form the words in my brain.

"I… Have to go."

My feet don't want to move. It's like I'm waiting for Griff to say something, do something, but he looks just as surprised as I am, if not more so.

"… Okay. Yeah. I'll… Catch the bus."

I squint my eyes shut as realization hits me. I'm his ride. I can't cock-block him, kiss him, and ditch him all in one night. I have to at least try to not fuck
one
thing up.

"No. Sorry, I… I wasn't thinking. I'll drive you back to your dorm."

I finally start walking, as if my brain has finally decided it's okay with this decision. I can't look back at Griff, and it takes a while, but I eventually hear the sounds of his sneakers hitting the pavement as he follows.

The ride back is more awkward than I could have ever imagined. Neither of us say a word to each other, and I can't even stand to listen to the radio. Instead, I focus on the sound of the wheels moving smoothly over the asphalt, the light squeal of the brakes, and the rhythmic click of the turn signal.

Anything to keep from thinking about the fact that I probably just destroyed our friendship.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

- Derek -

For the next two weeks, I do everything in my power to avoid spending time alone with Jason Hawkins.

I work my ass off to get my brain right and internalize everything he and the other guys have been teaching me. The last drills I did with Hawk are what have really clinched it for me, though, and I even manage to stand up to Coach Garvey's test of a tackle drill without breaking a sweat.

Go figure. The guy I'm trying to avoid is the one guy I can't get out of my head, even when I'm not thinking about that kiss.

Hawk doesn't look like he's faring much better. Every time I see him, he's focused and determined. Giving his all and then some for football, just like he did when I first met him. It blindsides me a bit, to realize just how much he's loosened up since we started hanging out. And I feel like an asshole for mostly ignoring him, but Hawk doesn't seem eager to strike up a private chat with me, either.

It's better this way. He's confused. Doesn't know what he wants. And he needs some space to figure it out.

I just can't handle being involved with a straight guy who doesn't actually want me, and Hawk has better things to do than worry about whether or not he's jeopardizing our friendship by pursuing his curiosities.

It's not like I'm never going to talk to him again. Right now, I’m hoping we can make it through this semester, then just kind of reconnect as friends once this blows over. Is it naive? Fuck yeah. But I don't know what else to do.

A part of me really wants to confront him. Ask him point blank what he wants. Ask him if there's anything between us, because that kiss… Jesus. I've never been kissed like that before. Hawk kissed me like he actually wanted me. Like I was the only thing in the world that mattered at that moment.

But I know it's not true. Either my mind is playing tricks on me and I'm remembering it way better than it was, or… I don't know. I just know there's no way Hawk could ever be as into me as I’m into him.

It doesn’t look like our little separation is going to last through the semester, though. As I grab my bag from my locker, I see Hawk coming up to me.

He looks cool, collected, and confident, but when I meet his gaze, I can see uncertainty in his eyes. I just want to stroke his cheek and tell him it's all going to be okay, but I keep my hands to myself and try to act casual.

"What's up?"

"Hey. I know you’ve got your own shit going on, but are you free tomorrow night?"

My heart thumps in my chest, and a little tremor of anticipation snakes through me. "Yeah, I'm free."

"I've been trying to write this Western Civ paper all week, and I wouldn't mind having a second pair of eyes on it."

I deflate quicker than a terrible Patriots joke. What exactly did I think he was going to do? Ask me out in the middle of the locker room?

"Yeah, I can take a look at it. You want to email it to me, or…?"

He reaches up, and I watch the pads of his fingers scratch over his stubble. I can’t help the memory that surfaces. I know exactly what it feels like, and I practically ache to touch him again.

"That's cool. Unless you feel like coming over. I wouldn't mind going over it in person."

I hold his gaze for a moment, and try to figure out if there's a double meaning there. He doesn't cave, but I can see a bit of a plea in his eyes. Maybe he’s as tired of the separation as I am. Maybe it's time we both get past our drama and figure shit out.