Page 36 of Smoky Mountain Dreams
“Yeah, and eventual homelessness and possibly the start ofanother World War.”
Jesse laughed softly. “Fair enough.”
“Let me get you a cup,” Christopher said, going inside andback to the kitchen, while Jesse followed. “There’s cereal and, uh, I reallyneed to go to the store, so cereal and leftover chili are about all I’ve got onoffer.”
He should have thought ahead. He’d hoped he’d get laid, buthe hadn’t considered feeding someone on the morning after. Usually a guy didn’tstick around for seconds (or thirds, or fourths, or a surprisingly intensefifth), so why would he have thought of making sure he had something decent forbreakfast?
“Cereal’s fine. Whatever you’ve got.”
“Chex.” Christopher waved a hand toward the cabinets and thebox on the kitchen table. “Grab a bowl and dig in. Milk’s in the fridge.”
“And don’t put yourself out later either.”
“What do you mean?” Christopher asked, handing a fresh,steaming cup to Jesse. He regretted that shower decision as he watched Jessetake a swallow and lick his wet mouth.
“I mean, last night at the restaurant, you said it was ourfirst date. Will there be another one?”
Christopher felt a weird, warm, unfamiliar glow inside hischest that felt a lot like glee and wonder combined. “Yes.”
Jesse’s eyes went hot and pleased. Then he turned and openedthe fridge, saying over his shoulder, “Chex is fine next time too.”
Next time. There will be a next time.
“Great.” Trying not to grin like an idiot, Christopherchecked the time on the clock over the sink. “I’ll stock up on it.”
Jesse sat with his bowl and the milk, and smiled widely. “Youdo that.”
Maybe, just maybe, there would be many next times.Christopher took a fast swallow of his coffee, glad when it burned his tongue,because that kind of thing never happened in dreams. And the prospect of havinganother night oreven morewith Jesse felt too goodto be true.
Chapter Nine
SINCETHE UNBELIEVABLE SEX ONFriday night, he and Jesse had texted back andforth a lot. First, only an hour after he and Jesse had gone separate ways thatmorning, he’d received a text:
Last night was amazing. Can’t stopthinking about it. Thank you for having me over.
Christopher had replied:
It was great for me too. And you’rewelcome. Want to do it again soon?
That went unanswered for nearly forty-five excruciatingminutes before Jesse’s response came through.
Definitely. Just thinking about seeingyou again has me hard.
Christopher had been in the dressing area putting on makeup,and he’d instantly popped wood too. He tried to cover it by putting his makeupbag in his lap, but the disdainful look he’d received from the male ice skaterhe was sharing a mirror with made it clear that it hadn’t gone completelyunnoticed.
I’m going on stage in fifteen. Yourlast text definitely complicated that for me.
Christopher had grinned at Jesse’s response:
I’m not sorry.
He’d headed for the wings of the stage with his stomachdoing handsprings of joy and a grin the length of Tennessee on his face.
Now it was Saturday evening, and he’d re-read the series oftexts nearly fifty times, which didn’t stop him from reading them again whileeating his dinner. He’d washed his sheets that afternoon and felt a littleregretful that he’d erased the physical evidence of what they’d done the nightbefore. As he cleaned his plate of rotisserie chicken and potato salad he triedout several texts, hoping to initiate another conversation, but never gotfurther than typing them out and erasing them.
He was chewing his last bite, staring at his phone and stilltrying to think of something clever to say when it buzzed in his hand.
How did your shows go today? Leave yourfans screaming for more?
