Jackson lets out a strained huff of laughter as he does another rep. “Impossible. Who could dislike you?”
“Umm, some people don’t like me. They call me weird.”
“Then they’re assholes,” he says, like it’s a matter of fact, and I smile.
I like Jackson a lot. He’s kinda become my work dad since Ethan retired. He was the one person I confided in at the start ofthe season when I was feeling left out and all up in my feelings. And while I haven’t told him I’m speaking with the team psychologist soon about my recent discovery, I know he’ll be a good person to talk to, with him recently having gone through the autism assessment process for his daughter.
Jackson’s arms tremble slightly as he finishes his rep, and I help him stack the bar into the rack. He sits up and squirts some water in his mouth, twisting on the bench to face me.
“What else are you worried about?”
“What if they have weird forks?” I ask, giving voice to one of my concerns. “Do I take my own just in case?”
“I mean, sure, if that’ll make you more comfortable. I always carry a set for Isabela whenever we go out to eat.” He shrugs. “Fuck what other people think.”
I grin widely. “You’re feisty today. Did the kids wake you up by kneeing you in the balls again?”
He groans, scrubbing his face with his hand. “Yes. I’d only had about three hours sleep when Isabela came charging into the room. I thought someone had broken in.”
An image of the tiny four-year-old bursting through the door like a cannonball flashes in my mind, and I laugh. “She obviously missed her dad.”
“I’m just glad she didn’t get Hayden. Although I think they’ve learned they can’t jump on him like they can with me.”
“Well, he is old,” I joke.
Jackson tries to hide his smile but fails. “He’s not old.”
“He is. Anyway, I’m getting off topic. Do I need to take something tonight? Apart from my own cutlery?”
“Such as what?”
“Do I take him a gift?”
He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head before lying back on the bench for another set of reps. “No, Elliot, you don’t need to take anything. You’re a gift as it is.”
I pull up outside Hunter’s two-story house fifteen minutes earlier than the time he told me. I’ve been so nervous about tonight and getting worried I’ll be late that I started to get ready after my afternoon nap. Then I’ve spent the last three hours pacing my apartment, mentally preparing myself for all kinds of conversations that might happen, thinking about my best jokes and how I’m going to present myself.
I think I’m prepared. In more ways than one, because Hunter’s coming back to my place tonight. I’ve taken all of Zach’s advice, and I think I’mready.
I’m still nervous as fuck, though, but I want this. I want to climb him like a tree and have sex with him.
“Stop being a weirdo. You’ve got this,” I tell myself, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.
He must have spotted I’m here as the porch light flicks on, and moments later, the door opens to reveal a dreamy-looking Hunter. He’s dressed in a super soft dark green flannel shirt and those worn jeans with the holes in the thigh, looking like a goddamn lumber-snack.
I wipe my damp palms down the front of my jeans and grab my car keys before getting out of the car.
He greets me with a warm smile. “Hey, you.”
“Hey.” I smile back, voice trembling with nerves.
Strands of dark hair fall onto his face when he dips his head and presses his lips to mine.
“You don’t need to be nervous, okay?” he murmurs against my mouth. “Just be you. Walt is safe. He won’t judge you.”
“How did you know that was what I was worrying about?”
He lifts his head, and that gentle smile reappears on his face. “Because I wasn’t lying when I said I see you, El. Every little thing.”
