Page 61 of Tagging Bases

Daniel whoops some more as the coaster rockets over several jarring hills that bounce my body like a rag doll. “J-J-Jesus!”

Each time we crest a hump, I’m convinced the car will derail and send us off to our doom. I squeeze Daniel’s hand hard enough to cut off his circulation. He doesn’t seem to mind, though.

After one final sharp curve to the right, we rattle our way up into a dark tunnel where I end up disoriented by the sudden dimness. The car sways to the left, and I think this is surely the end. We’re going to slam into the tunnel wall in a fiery blaze, and that’ll be all she wrote for Charles Wade McManus.

But then daylight appears, and with a screech of the brakes, the car reenters the station, rolling to a merciful stop. It takes my brain a minute to catch up and realize we’re no longer moving. My legs are trembling, and for once, it’s not because of an epic release of endorphins following a nut.

The lap bar releases with a clunk, and I practically fall out of the car on numb, rubbery legs.

“Dude, that was insane!” Daniel hops out of the car behind me—with far too much energy for someone who just stared death in the face, might I add. He vibrates with residual adrenaline as he helps me walk away from what will surely haunt my dreams for years to come. “Wasn’t that a rush? And the airtime on those bunny hops? Unreal! Want to go on the carousel to cool off?”

The sound of people screaming as they descend the first drop reaches my ears, reminding me of what I endured. It’s not a good sound, and I end up hurling up my cotton candy in a nearby trash can as Daniel rubs his hand in soothing circles on my back.

“I hate Roy,” I mumble between dry heaves.

Chapter 22

Curiouser and Curiouser

Charlie

After throwingup at Coney Island, we took it easy the rest of the day. Carousel, Ferris Wheel, boardwalk games, where I won a fluffy teddy bear that I’m totally going to gift to Roy.

And now, one week later, I still haven’t figured out how to talk to Daniel. About his breakup with Olivia, about the bomb she dropped on me. About whether I feel the same way or not.

I roll over in my bed and stare at the window that’s wide open and letting the warm spring breeze inside. Rubbing my eyes, I yawn and get out of bed, heading into the hallway to find Daniel’s bedroom door cracked open. Gently rapping my knuckles on the wood, I push it open and glance inside the empty room.

I pad down the hallway and, once again, find Daniel in his favorite spot. On the couch, his bare feet resting on the wooden coffee table, the remote control in his hand, and a rerun ofSupernaturalplaying on the TV.

I pause, drawn to his relaxed form. The flickering light of the sun, broken by the clouds, dances across his face, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and the fullness of his lips.

My gaze travels lower, taking in the way his broad shoulders fill out his white T-shirt, the fabric stretching tight enough across his chest that I can make out his nipples.

Daniel shifts, crossing one ankle over the other, and my breath catches. His boxers ride up, exposing more of his muscular thighs. I stare at the dusting of dark hair and the way his skin appears smooth and inviting.

He flexes his toes absently, and I find myself mesmerized by the simple motion and the sheer size of his feet. Though he’s never outright said it, I know he’s self-conscious about them, about how wide they are. But right now, I can’t understand why. To me, they’re perfect.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly bone-dry. A fluttering sensation stirs low in my belly, making my pulse quicken. What is happening to me? Why am I suddenly hyperaware of my best friend’s body?

I close my eyes briefly, trying to calm my racing thoughts. This is Daniel. The same Daniel I’ve known since I moved to New York. The guy I’ve shared laughs and heart-to-hearts with. I shouldn’t be thinking about him this way or ogling him like some piece of meat. It’s wrong…isn’t it?

But when I open my eyes again, they betray me, drifting back to Daniel of their own accord. They linger on his lap, on the impressive bulge barely contained by the thin cotton. My face floods with warmth as arousal stirs within me. My boxers grow uncomfortably snug.Oh God.

Tearing my gaze away, I take a steadying breath and step into the living room, willing my inconvenient boner to behave.

“Hey,” I say, aiming for casual as I plop down beside Daniel on the couch. The cushion dips under my weight, and I slide closer to his solid warmth.

“Hey, yourself,” Daniel replies easily, eyes still glued to the TV. He shifts again and throws an arm across the back of the couch. His fingertips graze my shoulder, sending a shiver racing down my spine. “Just in time for the good part. Castiel’s about to show Dean his wings.”

I hum noncommittally. Daniel’s thigh is pressed against mine,scalding me through two layers of thin fabric. Having him this close is both comforting and electrifying.

My dick continues to throb insistently in my boxers, refusing to be ignored. So, I cross my legs and rest my hands strategically in my lap, praying my boner gets the hint and calms the hell down. Thankfully, Daniel is too engrossed in the scene playing out on the screen to notice my predicament.

Forcing myself to do the same, I watch as Dean stumbles into an abandoned barn. Castiel reveals his true angelic form, and the episode ends. Daniel stretches with a groan. His shirt rides up to reveal a sliver of tanned skin above the waistband of his boxers. I choke on my tongue at the sight.

“This is such a great show. I gotta take a leak. Let me know when the next one comes on?”

I nod as he heaves himself off the couch. His boxers slip down ever so slightly, and that’s when I see it—the tantalizing cleft of his ass crack peeking out, and a dusting of dark hair trailing into the unknown.

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