Page 37 of Everything's Better With You
Twelve
Leslie
Les had brought the Crown Vic in case Joe wasn't ready for the full Iowa 4x4 experience. He stayed quiet at the beginning of the drive while Joe processed whatever he was thinking and assumed it was about Joe’s mom. Man, had she been a piece of work. The one and only time Les had spoken to her, she’d asked if he could get her boyfriend tickets to the 49ers/Rams game. Of course he could, and he did. But the more he got to know Joe, the more he’d understood Joe’s “I am an island” routine. He really had been for most of his life.
Leslie figured taking Joe to the Ford dealership in Leonard would be a good bet. Tim Caldwell was a former teammate and good friend. Tim had a great sense of humor and handled all the jokes about being a cliché former NFL player-turned-car salesman. He would give Joe a low-pressure sales pitch. Les had no idea how much money Joe wanted to spend; they hadn’t really talked that much in detail. Joe had simply asked for Les’s advice on the best vehicle to handle the Iowa weather and Leslie had jumped at the chance.
“You asked me to come with you today but I don’t know what you’re thinking.”
Joe turned to face him. “What I’m thinking?”
Les smiled. “About a car? Besides being good in weather, is there anything else?”
“Hmmm,” Joe said. “Well, I’m used to my Porsche. I’ve had it for twelve years. It just didn’t seem like the right car for out here.”
“Not exactly, unless it’s one of their crossover models. They probably have all-wheel drive.”
Les snuck a glance at Joe when he didn’t answer. “What?”
“You know, I don’t mind admitting when I don’t know much about a topic, but there’s something about being male in this country that if you don’t know cars, you’re less of a man. You say all-wheel drive and I think ‘yes, I’d like all of the wheels to drive, thank you.’ So when I asked you to come, my intention was that you would help me avoid total emasculation.”
Leslie gave Joe a very obvious once-over, taking his time as one can do on Iowa highways where nary a car is in sight, as was the case today. His gaze lingered on Joe’s thick thighs, which pulled the fabric of his mid-thigh-length Bermuda shorts tight, the way the light dusting of dark hairs on his legs seemed to accentuate the cut of each muscle. Then his gaze landed on the sizeable bulge in the front of Joe’s shorts that was not merely the curve of the zipper. Leslie had yet to see all of Joe’s incredible body unclothed, but there was little mystery about what he would find behind his fly. Leslie’s eyes went back to the road and he sighed.
“What was that?” Joe’s tone had an edge to it that hadn’t been there moments ago.
“That was me mentally cataloging all the ways you are the epitome of masculinity.” Leslie’s eyes wandered over Joe’s corded forearms and long, graceful, thick fingers, also faintly sprinkled with dark hair. Joe Judd was the quintessential example of male beauty and perfection. Les had always thought so, and Joe had only become more so with age.
“Whatever. Ogling me is not helping the situation. I need you to tell me what questions I should ask so I don’t sound ignorant and you don’t look like my daddy buying me a car.”
Leslie choked on that word. “I know I’m older than you, but I highly doubt anyone would consider you my…Ohhhhh.”
The back of his neck burned as he caught Joe’s knowing smile.
“Come on, man. We’ve never been that way with each other. That’s not…you know.”
“Weknow that, but if we go in there and you do all the talking for me while I just stand there looking fabulous, it’s going to be obvious.”
Leslie barked out a laugh and shook his head.
“It just so happens that the dealer is a friend, not just someone I played ball with. He knows I’m gay, but more than that, he knowsme. He’s going to be curious, but I let him know you are new to the faculty and in need of reliable wheels. I don’t think it’s going to be awkward.”
Joe turned sideways in his seat. “Fine, but shouldn’t I know about torque and horsepower? And how many wheels drive I need? God, it was so much easier when my agent just bought my car for me. I told him I wanted a Porsche, and he bought me one with my signing bonus for the second season ofDance Machine.”
Les reached over and squeezed Joe’s knee. It was instinctual, but then he lifted his hand as if he’d touched a hot surface and looked at Joe for his reaction.
Joe grabbed his hand, laced their fingers together and sat it back on his knee. When Leslie just stared, and swerved the car a little, Joe exhaled.
“Okay, watch what you’re doing, Payton. It’s just holding hands. It’s not like I reached for your fly.”
“Stop it,” Leslie said, putting on his blinker to make the turn onto a state route that was a shortcut to Leonard. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what’s okay with you. I want to respect you.”
Joe pressed his free hand to his chest. “You better respect me, gosh.” Leslie couldn’t understand how Joe could be so worried what people would think one minute, and then flippant about something so intimate and familiar.
“What Imean, Twinkle Toes, is that we’ve been in this holding pattern for so long, is it okay to touch you? When we’re alone, I mean?”
Joe ran his finger over their joined hands and looked down at them thoughtfully. “I’ve never been much of a hand-holder. It’s nice. Yes, holding hands is okay.”
Leslie pressed his lips together. There was so much he wanted to do with Joe. Alone. In person. No more phones or prying eyes.
