“Johnny?”
“Yeah, Ez?”
“Will you go on a date with Bubba and me tonight?”
Johnny’s eyes widen. “A date?”
My eyes must be just as big, because this is coming out of nowhere, but if my boy wants a date, I’m damn sure going to take him on one. The fact he’s including Johnny in the plan makes my heart race in the best way.
“I would love to take you both out.” Cupping Johnny’s cheek, I ask, “Would you go on a date with us?” He doesn’t answer, but he does nod. “Ezzy, I want you to go pick out a real pretty outfit for me. Something you’ll feel confident in.” I’ve almost got it all out, but it seems like I’m choking on my tongue as I try to tell him about the date I plan to take them on. The first night of what I can only hope will be the rest of our lives. “We’ll be home in an hour. I want you to get yourself all prettied up and wait for us.”
“Okay,” he says quietly. “I’ll see you both soon.”
A date. That’s what Bubba called it. A night on the town with his precious Ezra. Ezra, who just busted a load in front of us, will more than likely hold Bubba’s hand. Ezra might even hold mine, considering he’s the one who asked me to go on the date. I don’t know why the hell would ask me to join. I ain’t nearly as handsome as either of them. I ain’t smart like them, neither. I don’t have a single goddamn thing going for me, but he invited me anyway. I canonly hope this ain’t some trick Ezra is pulling in order to finally win Bubba’s favor. I’m pretty sure it would crush me.
Bubba’s going to choose Ezra. He’d be a fool not to, because Ezra is just so fuckin’ …Ezra. The fluff of brown hair on top of his head. The little freckles that look like a really fun connect-the-dots pattern. The button nose. Those big brown eyes. That tight fuckin’ hole. There’s no competing with Ezra’s classically handsome looks or his perky ass. Bubba says I have a bubble butt, too, but it ain’t nothing compared to Ezra’s.
Ezra likes my ass, though. He said so. He may not know it’s my ass he’s been ogling when he’s staring at my OnlyFans profile picture, but it’s still my ass, and by the sound of it, Little Dick got hard for this ass. He’d probably kill me if he knew I call him Little Dick in my head, but it’s true. He’s got a little dick. It is what it is, and whatever it is, the sight of it got me hard earlier. It made me come so hard it felt like my cock was going to fly off. But Ezra’s a guy. A guy ain’t supposed to get me hard. A guy ain’t supposed to make me bust the biggest fuckin’ load of my life.
My big ass and Ez’s little dick both get Bubba hard. I’ll catch him staring at my butt sometimes when he thinks I ain’t looking, casually palming his bulge. A massive bulge, at that. It’s bigger than mine, and a whole lot bigger than Ezra’s. I wonder what they’d look like resting right beside each other. A real yin-and-yang situation. I bet they’d need someone with big hands to hold them at the same time so they could measure themselves. Ezra’s little cock would probably twitch in my hand, leaking like a showerhead turned on full blast. I wonder how many strokes it would take to make him bust. He ain’t had sex in a while, so probably not very long.
Not that I want to jack him off or anything.
I’ve been quiet most of the ride home from work. Normally, I sit up front, beside Bubba, but my head is all over the place, and I need time to process. Dallas has been yammering to Bubba in the front seat about how he’s going to rail his stepson tonight, and it’s given me welcome relief, because I’ve been able to shut my brain down and not think of what we’re about to do.
I’m going on a date. With two dudes. It ain’t anything I ever planned for, but each time I look up, I catch Bubba’s eyes on me through the rearview mirror, and there’s this familiarly unfamiliar tingle, right in the middle of my heart. Like I’ve got a purpose. Like I ain’t just a loser everyone just tolerates. Like maybe he won’t throw me away when all this is done. His gaze is intense, so I can’t hold it too long.
I bring up my browser and navigate to Ezra’s OnlyFans. He’s still doing his live stream, and it makes me wonder if he even listened to Bubba at all earlier. He’s supposed to be getting ready. Bubba’s expecting him to put a little effort into his outfit. If he’s still on the sofa giving naked psychic readings, I may have to cold-cock the son of a bitch with an open palm for letting Bubba down. I’d slap his ass and not his face, because I don’t condone violence, and he seems like the sort who might like to get his ass slapped by a straight guy, even though I don’t really know how straight I am anymore. I’ll have to talk about it with Bubba eventually. He’s who I go to for everything, but I’ve been too scared to go to him with this. All these new feelings he’s stirring up. The way it twists me up in knots inside.
I click the link to join Ezra’s stream. As it buffers, I reach into my pocket for an earbud and manage to wriggle one out of the case one-handed. Once the video loads, I breathe a sigh of relief, because Ezra isn’t procrastinating, he’s taking initiative. He’s getting himselfall dolled up for Bubba, trying on a large selection of outfits he’s got strewn out on our bed.
What’s that pink shit on his head? I can’t tell, because it seems like he’s got plastic wrap wrapped around it.
For five minutes straight, I watch as Ez twists and twirls and prances around like a little fairy. He’d probably threaten to scratch my eyes out if he knew I called him a fairy—even if it’s just in my head—but I don’t mean it in a homophobic way. He’s just so fluttery. The way he moves through the room almost looks like a delicate waltz, each step taken with practiced purpose, his wrist a little limper than it usually is, his hips swaying far more widely than they have any right swaying. He’s filming on his phone, which isn’t his normal routine. He usually just props his laptop on a tv tray and aims it at the bed or our sofa. He’s got his phone propped on the dresser, aimed at the open space beside our bed, capturing him as he unbuttons his Polo shirt and lifts it over his head by the neck. He looks like a toddler learning to put on their big-kid clothes for the first time, like he ain’t removed a single shirt in his goddamn life. He’s so fuckin’ precious.
Shirtless, Ezra seems light and carefree. Goddamn giddy, really, and to my surprise, I’m happy for him. I don’t really know what my part during this date is going to be, but after getting to see how lovesick he looks right now, I think even if I end up feeling like a third wheel, invited only out of obligation, I’d still be happy for Ezra. It would hurt like a motherfucker to feel excluded, but I wouldn’t be mad at him, because he’d be having the time of his life, and so would Bubba.
He tries on three different outfits—stripping right down to his purple briefs each time he changes—before trying on the final option. When he turns toward his phone, my breath hitches.
He’s beautiful.
He does a little twirl, and the white shorts he’s wearing are practically form-fitted, so he almost looks naked. His little bulge is poking out a little further than it usually does, so he probably padded it to make it more appealing. He’s got on a mesh tank top, hot pink in color, and the word Catcher is written across the back, making him look like he belongs on a gay football team.
Once Ezra’s done with his twirl, he stares at the screen, squinting, trying to read. His eyes widen. “Daddy McSnack! Where were you earlier? I waited. I wanted to give you another reading, but you fucked off to god-knows-where, so I had to do a reading for Bubba’s little boyfriend.”
Boyfriend?
The word sends me into a panic, and Bubba must notice, because he clears his throat. I look up at his reflection in the rearview mirror.
“It’s going to be a good night, bro,” Bubba says. “I promise. And if it isn’t fun, just tell me, and let me make it better.”
I nod, all the while knowing I ain’t saying shit to him, even if I end up feeling excluded. Bubba deserves to have a good time. He’s the best man I’ve ever known, and I want him to be happy, even if I ain’t part of that happiness.
Ezra’s still complaining about giving my reading away. I can’t exactly tell him I got to hear it anyway, because that’ll give the game up, even though I ain’t really sure what the game is anymore. Initially, I created the profile to get dirt on him. Now, I’m not so sure. There’s no reason for me to watch his live streams.
He’s been scolding me for my tardiness for five minutes before I finally type out, “How did his reading go?” into the group chat.
“As well as can be expected, I suppose. I pulled the death card, so it was fun to see Johnny’s eyes bulge out of his head.” He chews his bottom lip, lost in his head. “I wanted to drag it out a bit longer, but heseemed sad.” He stares into the camera for a beat, looking a little lost. “I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I tried to rush through it.” He plops down on the bed, bringing his phone along for the ride. Lying on his stomach, he props himself up on an elbow and stares into the camera.
