Scott held out his arm, offering it to Charlie to grab hold of. For whatever reason, he felt like they were the kind of friends who could be physical with each other. Hugs, linking arms, leaning against each other when they were tired. That kind of thing.
He’d liked having Charlie lean against him. He hadn’t even considered stopping it.
Charlie took a step toward him and immediately tripped over something on the ground, lurching forward as he struggled to regain his balance.
Scott ducked down, catching him under the arms and pulling him upright, saving him from a face full of the gravel under their feet.
Charlie’s breath was coming in soft, sharp pants, his heart beating so hard that Scott could hear it in the otherwise silent night air.
After gathering himself together for a moment, Charlie stood up by himself, rolling his shoulders back and shoving his hands in his coat. He looked pale, his face drained and his jaw tight. Scott knew the feeling, the way that moment of panic hit like a baseball bat to the back of the head, and he knew it took a moment to shake off.
He took a step toward Charlie as the other man shivered, not sure how to help him. He’d be fine in a second, but a second seemed like too long to wait.
Before Scott was sure of what he was doing, he took another step forward, closing the gap between them again. Charlie looked up at him, his eyes wide and dark behind his glasses, so open, so trusting.
The softest hitch of breath was the only sound Charlie managed to make before Scott’s lips connected with his.
Charlie’s face was already cold from being outside, but there was a little warmth left in his cheeks. When his lips parted, his mouth was hot, and his tongue was silky-soft against Scott’s, and Scott didn’t remember ever kissing anyone quite like this.
Ever wanting it this much.
His heart clenched in his chest, then sped up, making everything feel a hundred times more urgent. The heat of Charlie’s mouth seemed to roll down his throat, pooling deep in his gut. His skin tingled, his lungs felt tight.
Everything about this was nice. Everything felt good, and right, and like this was how it was supposed to be.
It wasn’t weird. Or it was weird, but only in the sense that he wanted more of it, wanted to do this again and again until they were both breathless and panting, warmed by each other’s bodies, eager to run home and strip off and continue.
He was close enough to Charlie that their bellies were touching, warmth seeping through the layers of clothes between them, making the air hot and close.
A wolf-whistle from the direction of the bar startled Scott, dragging him back to reality.
What.
The.
Hell.
He blinked at Charlie, looking between his half-lidded eyes, his glasses askew on his face, his parted, kiss-swollen lips. Scott swallowed.
He’d done that.
He’d done that, and he liked it.
There was really only one response to that.
“I have to go,” Scott said, stumbling backward, almost tripping over the same rock or stick or whatever it was that Charlie had.
He saw Charlie reaching out to him, caught the softwaithe whispered, but Scott was barely stopping himself from running as it was. He couldn’t look back. This wasn’t a conversation he was ready to have.
All he could do was get the hell out of there.
Chapter Thirteen
“Charlie!”
Charlie started awake and glanced at the clock beside his bed. Ten o’clock. He should have been up hours ago, but he’d been so exhausted after coming home and crying his heart out last night that he’d more or less collapsed.
If his mom was calling him, it was probably important.
