Sav gets the message too. “We can…”
I can’t imagine sitting there, listening to the criticisms Barb throws at Sav that I thought were normal, because I’d grown up hearing them too, all while the pastor on stage preaches that people like Asher are wrong. That people likemeare wrong. I feel around for some sense of revulsion or wrongness or shame at what we’re doing, the kind I’ve been trained to have my whole life. None comes. I lean over and kiss both Sav and Asher in turn, then answer Barb.
Me: Sorry, can’t make it.
And I silence her incoming messages. I’m about to put away my phone but something occurs to me, something I’ve beenmeaning to do for a while. I flip on my phone camera. “Hey, picture.”
Savannah’s forehead wrinkles. “I’m not even wearing a real shirt, Bray.”
“It’s just for us.” I study the blank walls around us. Asher had all sorts of art up in his apartment in Chicago. This place is just as empty as it was when we left, but something about that bothers me more now. “Maybe if there’s a good one, we can get it framed.”
I raise the phone, then stop when Asher leans away from the camera as if he’s being banished to the world just beyond its scope. I slide my arm around his shoulders and pull him back into frame. “You too.”
For a moment, he just stares at me, dark eyes curious. “You sure?”
But he leans toward me as I snap a few pictures, the three of us smiling. Midway through, Baby gets in on the proceedings and climbs from Savannah’s lap to my shoulders, clawing her way up my arms. Tomorrow I’ll wake up with little pinprick reminders that I’ll take with me to the ballpark, that I’ll carry with me throughout the day, no matter what happens.
When you know you know.So I take a few more pictures.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Asher
Brayden wakes me absurdly early,nudging my shoulder and whispering so he doesn’t rouse Savannah. “I’m going running. Wanna come?”
We went to bed early last night—and got to sleep late. The bed is large and comfortable and most importantly, has both of them in it. Only Brayden’s looking at me like what I really want to do with my morning isrunon hot Georgia asphalt.
“C’mere.” My voice is thick with sleep. I reach for him, and he hesitates. My hand was around his cock last night, as he knelt between Savannah’s legs and made her come over and over. Maybe this is the belated freakout I’ve been expecting. “You good, B?”
His face goes slightly pink in the early sunlight coming through the curtain. “I have morning breath.”
I laugh and kiss him anyway, tongue sliding past his. He’s right. His mouth tastes a little sour—and completely perfect.
We’rein the garage about to leave for the ballpark when Brayden pauses beside his absurdly large truck. “Maybe I should take you back to your place first.”
Yeah, here’s the freakout.“Hey.” I go over to his side of the truck, rub my palms up his biceps. “No one’s gonna say shit about you giving me a ride. Or if they do, it’s just ’cause we weren’t friends and now we are.”
“People might be able to tell that we’re— That I’m—” Brayden cuts himself off like he can’t quite manage the word.
I take pity on him. “Did you know I was queer before I kissed you?”
“No. Maybe.” He studies the air right over my shoulder. “Mostly, I hoped.”
“Yeah?”
He gives a half shrug as if he’s embarrassed to admit that much. Refocuses his eyes on me. He’s smiling—he smiled all through dinner and hanging out together last night, smiled through our run this morning. Smiled when Savannah came down for breakfast in a pair of tiny sleep shorts, her hair up in a messy bun. If he keeps smiling like that, people might know something’s up.
I don’t tell him any of that. Just kiss him again, long enough that his hand finds its way under the hem of my shirt, fingers playing over the muscles in my back.
He hitches me closer to him like he can’t get enough. “You’re so…” he mumbles.
I think of that first time we met—Brayden sulking his way onto the field to give me shit about doing yoga. “Showy?” I reply.
He grins. “I was gonna say sexy.”
Fuck it. We’re in the garage but I’m wearing long pants and the ground is mostly clean. I drop to my knees, tug at the waistband of his joggers and underwear, stroke him a few times, though from the way his cock is rapidly thickening, he doesn’t need much help.
“Are you just gonna…” Brayden trails off like he can’t believe what’s happening.
