Page 62 of A Minute More

“I say fuck him,” Jude says, swiping at his brow. His shorts have ridden far up his thighs and I can almost see his balls.

“Dude. I swear to god. Wear longer shorts next time. You’re not a marathon runner.”

Jude glances down and then pats his cock. “Pfft. I have nice junk.”

“Never want to see that, just so you know.”

Jude smirks and then arches his hips forward, jostling his dick and balls at me. I pull my hat down over my eyes so I’m not further traumatized. To be honest, the only junk I want to see is Simon’s but he won’t let me.

Part of me understands why he’s disappeared.

But I’m still pissed.

Fuck, I miss him.

“You know what we should do to distract you? Go to a gay bar.”

The suggestion shocks me. “What? What the fuck? I thought you weren’t gay?”

“I’m not and neither are you. But you like dick, yeah?”

“Um. I guess. Well, I like Simon’s.”

Jude bobs his head like he totally understands, which makes no sense. Jude is a mystery to me.

“I mean, I’m probably bi, dude. I mean if I like dick, that makes the most sense. Right? Or maybe I’m Simon-sexual.”

He chuckles at that. “Nah, you don’t have to be anything you don’t wanna be. Dick is just dick.”

I don’t understand his logic at all, but whatever works for him, I guess.

“I don’t know if I should.”

“Look, he’s been fucking you around for the past five days, yeah? You should get out there and see what you like. Maybe Simon’s not the be-all end-all for you.”

Jude’s words ping around my head for a few hours as I ponder them, going over my options, but then I decide Simon not messaging me back has to be a hint. I need to get out there and figure out what’s going on with me. I need to figure out if this is just Simon or if my dick would be okay with other men. It doesn’t help that Jude pesters me about our plans until I relent. When we finally end up outside the bar in the next town over, we snap pictures for Instagram, Jude puckering his lips and pretending to kiss me. Part of me hopes Simon sees these, sees what I’m doing without him.

But a bigger part of me doesn’t want to hurt his fragile soul.

“You look hot, dude,” Jude says as we make our way inside, and my eyebrows rise. I glance down at my torn jeans and tight t-shirt. I borrowed it from Ollie who insisted that it made my muscles pop. Not sure why I went along with it because now I feel like my armpits are gonna leave sweat stains.

“Uh. Yeah, thanks. So do you.”

Jude bobs his head and then moves toward the bar, brushing against several men and drawing stares. I debate joining him for a drink for just a second and then think, fuck it. Just one. One is fucking fine. If Simon had an issue with it, if he had an issue with me being here, he’d tell me.

But he hasn’t fucking messaged me, so I can do what I want. And we aren’t boyfriends…or friends with benefits. We aren’t anything.

He shouldn’t dictate my life or what I choose to do.

I order a beer and then sip at it as I glance around, Jude at my side, his head bobbing with the rhythm of the music pumping loudly around us.

“This is cool, yeah?” Jude asks, his voice unreasonably loud in my ear.

“Yep!” I shout back and Jude looks around the packed bar, his eyes catching and releasing constantly. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but he seems picky.

Apparently, Jude has a type.

“What are you looking for?” I ask, and Jude leans toward my ear.

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