“Her body. In Lake Murray Park.”
“Oh my god.”
“They think it was a coyote attack, like that woman in La Jolla.”
“A coyote? That’s crazy.”
“She was such a nice lady,” Aaron said. “Sorry. Terrible date conversation.”
“It’s okay.”
“Thanks for picking up dinner. Ready to eat?”
Emmett was starving. After having nothing but salad and lentil soup for two days to make sure he was “ready for anything,” he’d been a littledismayed when Aaron had suggested fast food. Did that mean he didn’t plan to make a move?
They made plates and ate on the couch, scrolling through Netflix for a movie. Aaron paused onThe Whale. “Have you seen this?”
“Not yet.”
“I don’t know if I can do it. I’m here for a Brendan Fraser comeback, but do you rememberGeorge of the Jungle? That loincloth was, like, my sexual awakening. I just can’t take him seriously like this.”
Emmett chased a floret of broccoli around his plate, wondering iflike thismeantin a fat suitorno longer a Greek god.Whatever. He should take it as a compliment; if Aaron still saw Emmett as fat, he wouldn’t have brought it up at all.
And yet as they ate, watching some dumb gay rom-com where even the supposedly less attractive guy was jacked, Emmett found his thoughts plagued by insecurity—how much food was on his plate, how fast he was eating it, how desperately he wanted seconds. At what weight, he thought, would he not feel self-conscious about getting up and taking more?
A hand alighted on Emmett’s thigh, as light and unexpected as a sparrow.
He didn’t react right away. Five years on from his embarrassing first Grindr hookup, Emmett still felt clueless about the rituals of sex. Afraid of committing another faux pas but eager to communicate his desire, he shifted closer to Aaron, their knees and arms touching. The message seemed to be received. Gradually Aaron’s hand migrated toward the rising lump in Emmett’s jeans. His silky gaze shone over Emmett like moonlight, a balm of momentary beauty.
Their lips met, soft, hungry. Emmett’s body tingled. His blood fizzed. He tried not to wince when Aaron’s hands slid down over his sides.
At last Aaron pulled back, breathless. “Lean back.”
Emmett paused, then lay back, his heart pattering nervously. But instead of his belt, Aaron reached for Emmett’s foot.
He lifted it up, peeled off the sock, and tossed it to the floor. Then the other.
“You have nice feet,” he said, pressing the soles to his cheeks.
“Uh. Thank you.”
“I want to kiss them.”
Emmett felt embarrassed, like he was watching something private, shameful. But no. As fetishes went, feet were a relatively tame one. He was lucky to be with Aaron as it was. He needed to open his mind to this. “Okay.”
“Say it,” Aaron said. “Tell me to kiss the soles.”
“Kiss—kiss the soles.”
Aaron kissed them up and down, fast little pecks. “Now what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me to suck your toes.”
Emmett didn’t want to. “Suck my toes.”
The feeling was wet, tickly, uncomfortable. Emmett’s erection was dying.
