Page 34 of A Match Made In Evan
God, we’re a pair of Muppets, aren’t we?
How could we not have seen it?
Except…Jay did, didn’t he? He admitted that he’s known he’s had feelings for me —or at least a crush on me— since we were kids. My heart hurts that he thought he had to hide those feelings, that he never felt quite comfortable enough saying something…but, at the same time, I get it.
When we were kids, we didn’t have the same self-confidence as we do now. Being anything other than straight was something joked about on the playground. It was taboo.Gaywas a slur. While I want to say that I would have defended him to the ends of the earth, would fourteen or fifteen-year-old me have realised the potential that I might reciprocate his feelings? Probably not.
So, despite the potential loss of time together romantically, it’s better that it has worked out this way. We’re different people to those kids. Life and experience has moulded us into the men we are now. And, without those years and all that life stuff, Mia wouldn’t exist.
I love that kid far too much to contemplate a life without her, and I’m not even her dad. I’m sure, given a choice, James wouldn’t change being a parent, not even at nineteen.
“We are going to tell her, right?” James murmurs, cutting into my thoughts.
I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s also thinking about Mia, though in a very different way to me. We’ve always just been on the same wavelengths, or at least similar ones. It would be freaky if I didn’t think it was just another sign that we work well together.
“Mmhmm,” I breathe in his shampoo and try to pull him even closer against me. He’s warm, and the night air is cool. Winter is coming, even if winters on the Gold Coast are what a lot of theworld would consider t-shirt weather. “Yeah. We will. Whenever you’re ready.”
He snuggles down into the mattress, tucking his head under my chin. “Can we…can we give it a couple of weeks? Just to see how it all works with us? Now that we’re aware that we’re actually in a relationship and not just…pretending?”
“Pretending to pretend, you mean?” I can’t help but taunt a little, quickly adding, “But, yeah, we can make sure that this is going to be a real thing.”
“I mean, it’snew,” he says. “Coming out. Telling Mia. Telling our parents. Our friends. Colleagues…”
I give him a squeeze and a gentle “Shh.” Then I press my lips to the shell of his ear, revelling in the tremble of anticipation that shoots through him. “Nobody’s opinion on our sexuality or our relationship matters, baby. Not even Mia’s. Itdoesn’t.” I insist when I feel him tense up. “Yes, Mia will be affected by us being together, but when have either of us ever not put her first? She willalwaysbe the priority for you, and for me. It doesn’t make any difference if we’re best friends or boyfriends. And our parents? Well,” I consider how mine might react —surprise? confusion?— and I know in my gut that they’ll support us even if they don’t understand it. James’ parents will be the same way. “They might need some time to wrap their heads around it, but they love us. Both of us. They’ll probably be happy that we’re not doomed to bachelorhood after all.”
Letting out a shaky breath, James nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s true. It just…itfeelslike a big deal. Like…like I’ve been lying to everyone about who I really am.”
“You haven’t.”
“But—”
“You were a kid, James. Everyone goes through random crushes in their teens. I had a thing for Lola Bunny for a while.”
“You…what?”
“The point is,” I steamroll over the question, not needing to delve deeper into that embarrassing topic, “sexuality is fluid. I’ve read heaps of stories online about men not realising they like other men until they hit their fifties.Fifties, Jay. We’re babies in comparison to that.” Giving him an affectionate nudge with my nose, I finish with, “No matter what, we’ve got each other’s backs, just like we always have. That’s not going to change.”
***
“You’re sure about this?” James asks.
It has been the longest three days of my life. Three days since I declared my not-so-platonic love for my best friend. Three days since his teenage daughter cockblocked us from consummating our suddenly not-actually-fake relationship. Three days since I told James I wanted him to fuck me and then had to sleep with him in my arms without any sexy touches.
Three days oftorture.
It’s almost like my body and my brain have been on pins and needles, having the permission to doallthe things with the man I love, only to not have the opportunity to act on my newfound freedom.
Between work commitments and Mia’s after-school drama club stuff, getting a moment alone with James where wehaven’tbeen some form of exhausted has been impossible.
Until tonight.
Tonight, Mia is sleeping over at a friend’s house. Tonight, James and I went on our first official date. Tonight, we have been flirting and teasing each other with light touches and ‘come hither’ eyes.
Tonight, I am splayed out in the middle of his bed, naked and aching for him, and he’s equally naked and ready to move things along.
Except he has stopped, lube held in one hand and a condom in the other, and he’s looking at me with nervous grey-green eyes and asking ifI’msure.
“I’ve never been more sure in my life,” I tell him spreading my legs wider in invitation. “Please?”
