I don’t know why I’m frowning. Given that he knows the entire history of my love life, he probably isn’t taking me seriously or assumes we’re doomed to fail.
“I’m in love with him, Jay,” I blurt even as a rush of anxiety and joy closes up my windpipe. It feels good to say out loud. “Really in love with him. Like, I mean, I finally feel like I know what love is. It’s… I can’t even explain it.”
Silence follows. I don’t even hear signs of movement or the hiss of pain on his end, as though he’s stopped messing with his glue mask.
“Ugh…I’m going to have to be nice to him now, aren’t I?”
That sounds so much like acceptance from my biggest protector and anti-Chris advocate that I beam uncontrollably. “No,” I offer gently, “He doesn’t believe in miracles.”
“Hallelujah.”
“Well, I’m going to sleep. Call or text me before you cowboy up, okay?”
“Yeehaw, Romeo.”
Staring at my phone when the screen goes dark, I let my declaration swaddle me, basking in the truth of it. My vigilancetaunts me with quiet questions, though. Is it too soon? Is it too late, considering the years that have passed? They all seem laughable, and I discard them as quickly as they pop up. I’m in love, plain and simple. It’s apparently the exact right time to be because I have no concerns.
Setting my phone on my nightstand, I stare at it, knowing that’s not entirely true. The concern I have is for Chris. I spent an hour researching erectile dysfunction before Jamie called, cursing his face mask off. My concern isn’t that Chris has it. What worries me is that he might think it bothers me. I’m not complaining about the number of blowjobs he’s given me in the past week and a half, but I think I’d prefer to get him over his fear of letting me anywhere near his dick. I don’t care what state it’s in. I mean, sometimes, you’d like to graze your fingers lovingly over your man’s upper thigh, but so far, it’s been a caution zone for him. He, however, seems determined to give me as many orgasms as he can. He went from being a slightly selfish lover when we were in college to being an overzealous man on a mission.
From what I read, the all-knowing internet said to focus on non-sexual intimacy to make your partner feel wanted. I can totally get on board with that and think it’s what I’ve been doing. I don’t need sex to feel desired and appreciated. I can see it each time he looks at me. Holding hands, hugging, and kissing do it for me now more than they ever have in my life. I just wish Chris would realize I don’t need my eyes to roll back in my head multiple times a week to enjoy his company.
Ugh. Why does it always come back to sex with me and Chris? Rolling over, I pull my blanket tighter around me and close my eyes. Maybe it’s because this time everything matters.
CHAPTER 20
Chris
Kinnion’s arm snaps forward, letting the ball fly a second before the Cougars’ center lineman breaks through and takes him down. Clenching my fists, I suck in a breath and rise to my feet, loving the vantage point in our seats at the fifty-yard line. Fifteen, eighteen, twenty!
“Fuck yeah!” I punch the air. “Twenty yards,” I exclaim, easing back down and beaming at Remy.
He gives me an adoring grin like he cares more about seeing me looking pumped than that we’re at a game with great seats. I don’t regret my decision to skip the press box this time after Remy asked if he could see a game with me.
Reaching over, I give his knee a squeeze, feeling compelled to explain my zeal. “He’s been out with a knee injury for a few weeks. It’s his first game back, and he’s on fire.”
“I know,” he says knowingly, shooting me a wink.
I don’t think he does it to concur with my assessment of the QB’s playing tonight. He never tells me names or any personal details about his patients, but I think that wink was just an exception to share some insider information with his boyfriend. At least, I’ve been living off the high of believing we are ever since he held my hand on our walk last week and didn’t correct my word vomit.
If he’s not my boyfriend, there will be some awkward questions the next time I talk to my sister. I may have gushedto Alice about not being single for the first time in my adult life. Hearing how happy she was for me made me feel foolish for ever wondering how she’d accept my sexuality. For years, I was happy to live with the suspicion that she always knew, but never pressed me like I owed the world a confession.
The Cougars make a brutal tackle of the Panthers’ wide receiver, bringing a collective reaction of horror from the home team section. Rubbing Remy’s knee idly, I feel him lean in close to my ear to speak over the noise in the stadium.
“We’re going to have to go to a gladiator competition on our next date to compete with this.”
I think my heart just stopped. When I look over, he’s seemingly oblivious to the palpitations his wonderful words caused, stuffing one end of his hot dog into his mouth. Have I been overthinking things? I guess this is pretty much a date. Two guys who kiss each other, enjoying a public outing.
“You just want to see a bunch of men parade around in pteruges. Admit it,” I tease him, barreling my ass onto the dating train.
“Oh, my gosh!” He barks out a laugh. “No, but I can’t even describe how sexy it is that you know whatever that word was that their outfits were called.”
When the game ends and we make it back to my truck, I open his door for him. I need to do whatever I can to make it a notable date since I only realized halfway through that it was one.
“Are you still hungry? I’ll take you anywhere you want to go for dinner.”
Leaning over, he grips the back of my neck and gives me a slow kiss that makes me forget where I am. “Thank you, but I think I ate enough hot dogs to last me until lunch tomorrow, unless you’re hungry…”
I am hungry, hungry for him. And finally, freaking finally, it’s not just a broiling sensation in my chest and groin with no evidence of proof. We need to fucking get home ASAP.
