Page 57 of Until He Scores

“The night you kissed me in the basement of your house,” he replied.

“You did?”

“You surprised me. I couldn’t even process what happened. I think I always knew. Then I suppressed my feelings because you withdrew from me too. Maybe you didn’t realize it, or you’d been scared. Which is fair enough. We never talked about girls or guys or anything. I don’t even remember having a crush on anyone because you were always there.” He licked his bottom lip. “Does any of this make sense?”

“Are you telling me you slept with girls...women because you thought you had to prove some point?” Maybe it was the drugs or the pain in my knee or the ache in my leaking cock, still demanding attention, that made it hard to reconcile what he was saying.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never felt this way with another guy, Thierry. Does that make sense.”

“It does.” I couldn’t imagine how confusing the whole situation had to be for him. “What can I do to make this easier for you?” I held up my hand. “Without doing the obvious.”

He chortled. “Foiled again.”

I gave him a playful shove and laughed. “You’re using your horny brain. Use the one in your big head.”

He scratched the scruff on his cheek, “I mean...” then motioned to his crotch.

“You’re incorrigible,” I mumbled. “Why are you like this?”

“It’s still me, Thierry. Just a little bit rougher around the edges.”

Yeah, I saw him. My best friend. Weird how even now, looking at him, time melted away and we’d been kids again. I fell for the small dimple in his right cheek. The way he slicks his hair back. The way he held the remote and tilted his hand to the left. Or how he took a sip of his drink before turning the tab around to cover the hole. Most of all, I noticed on the inside of his left arm, a small tattoo of our youth jersey numbers.

“What’s this?” I asked, tracing the numbers.

His cheeks flooded with pink as an awkward, almost embarrassed smile filled his features. “I had one of the guys do it. Couple weeks ago.”

“You tattooed our numbers on your body.”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s not a big deal. Or whatever.”

“It’s an enormous deal.” I traced the thirty-five and thirty-three, a number I used until I joined theThunderbirdswith the tip of my finger. “We’ve been doing this dance since we were eight years old.” I glanced up at him. “I’ve known my feelings for you would always be real. No matter where we ended up in this life.”

“Is that you or the drugs?” He quirked a brow.

“All me. Remember Cobi and Wes talking about theBoom,when we were younger?”

Pope placed his hand on my stomach. “Kind of. I didn’t really pay much attention.”

“Well, you’re mine,” I said, hating the thread of reproach filling my voice. “I’d have waited a lifetime for you.”

“Wow,” he whispered. “Brought out the big guns, huh?”

“I’d rather be honest.”

“I’m kissing you now.” He rolled toward me. The first brush of his lips had me chasing him. I leaned into him, careful of my leg, but also wanting to continue where we left off. Uncertainty aside, Pope could kiss. His tongue swiped against mine, coaxing me to take from him, and I did. I showed him the anxiousness,the fear and yearning colliding within me. Gave him all my doubts, and my love. I wanted him more than I wanted my next breath. If something happened to me tomorrow, this moment would stay with me forever. I’d have no regrets.

“How do you feel about showering with me?” he murmured across my lips.

“Right now?”

He bit his bottom lip. “I want to explore you better, and I think the shower is the best place for us.” Then he added, “You have a chair in there.”

Dangling the carrot. “I have to get naked.”

“Me too. We’ll go slow. Stay here while I get everything ready for us.” He smacked a kiss to my lips before climbing out of bed.

Pope

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