“Aren’t those games rigged? I’ve never seen anyone win one of those things.”
“That’s because they don’t have what I have, Jacky.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Excellent hand-eye coordination.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon being disgustingly couple-y. Drew does win me a stuffed shark at the ring toss—after spending thirty dollars—and I beat him at Skee-Ball. We share boardwalk fries soaked in vinegar, and he kisses the salt from my lips. We take selfies with the ocean behind us, and even one of us mooning a flock of seagulls—because even though we’re grown adults, being in love makes us act like teenagers.
As the sun starts its descent, painting the sky in pastel colors, we find ourselves on a bench facing the water. Drew’s arm is around my shoulders, and I’m tucked into his side, the stuffed shark on my lap.
“I want to come out,” I say, surprising myself. “Not just with my sexuality, but with the truth. That this started as something fake to get people off our backs, but then it turned into something neither of us could keep on denying.”
Drew’s arm tightens around me. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” I turn to stare at this beautiful, infuriating man, who somehow loves me back. “I’m tired of hiding. Tired of being afraid. It’s time I stop running from it.”
“Whatever you need,” Drew says firmly. “However you want to do it, I’m with you.”
“Even if it means dealing with some of my extended family when you eventually meet them? They’re not like my parentsand brothers. They’re…traditional. They think quarterbacks should be dating cheerleaders.”
“Especially then.” Drew presses a kiss to my temple. “Though I should warn you, I look terrible in a cheerleading outfit.”
I laugh, the sound carrying over the waves. “I don’t know—those legs would look pretty good in a skirt.”
“Perv.”
“You love it.”
“I love you,” he corrects, and my heart stutters at the words.
“I love you too,” I tell him, meaning it with every fiber of my being.
We stay on that bench until the boardwalk lights flicker on, turning the wooden planks golden. Until families pack up their beach gear and couples claim the gathering darkness for themselves.
Finally, after much confusion and worry, I’m no longer afraid of being seen. Of wanting what I want. Of the truth.
Drew Larney is my forever person.
36
JACKSON
Ishould feel guilty about having seen Ryan so little since the night of the sensual art performance. But it’s hard to focus on guilt when Drew’s tongue is doing things to my ass that make my eyes cross.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I gasp into the pillow, my hands fisting in the sheets as he spreads me wider. The Hockey House has become my new home. My dorm room might as well be a storage unit for the textbooks I’m not reading.
Drew hums against my hole, the vibration making my whole body jerk. “You taste delicious, Jacky,” he murmurs, pulling back enough to speak before diving back in. “Could eat this ass for hours.”
“Please,” I beg, pushing back against his face. “I need?—”
“I know what you need.” Drew pulls away, and I whimper at the loss. But then I hear the drawer of his nightstand open, and my cock throbs against the mattress. “Say hello to Purple D, man,” Drew says in the most frat bro manner possible.
The vibrating dildo appears in my peripheral vision—purple silicone, and my ass clenches in anticipation, still wet and open from his tongue.
“Color?” he asks, running a soothing hand down my spine.
“Green,” I breathe. “So fucking green.”
