“I’m slightly afraid of what they’re going to come back with,” Winters murmurs. His cheeks tinge pink. “But also kind of excited.”
I breathe out a laugh. Knowing Shane? Knowing those fourtogether. Yeah, I feel the same way. I have a feeling that, whatever he chooses, there’s a very real chance my heart won’t survive it.
“Isn’t it risky…” Easton asks hesitantly, “going to a gay bar?”
I shake my head. “Not really. We’re still pretty invisible right now. I go to gay bars and clubs all the time. I have had someone recognize me on maybe…two?…occasions. And they were much more interested in getting into my pants than trying to spread gossip. Reporters and journalists are catching us around the field. No one’s staking out the sidewalk of a run-of-the-mill club, snapping pictures of every person who walks in.”
“Once we’re inside, it’ll be dark as hell,” Paulie adds. “You can’t tell who anyone is unless you’ve got your tongue down their throat.”
“Plus.” I point to Paulie. “Straight people go to queer places.”
Paulie nods. “I go all the time with Frank. Not necessarily clubbing, but we hang out at the bar level. Alf, the bartender, is mad chill.”
Winters doesn’t look reassured in the least. I pause and really think it over from his perspective. It’s not something I think twice over usually, because it’s of little concern if word gets out about me.
It was something my dad and I talked about at length when he found out about me being into guys. He was adamant that whatIwanted mattered most, that it wasn’t a decision to make lightly. He didn’t want me to do something I wasn’t comfortable with. But he reminded me of how privileged we were, of the extra layer of protection I wore being his son.
Imagine what other kids like you will think when they see you representing them. You’ll show them they belong too. You belong just as you are, JJ.
That really stuck with me. So, at eighteen, I sat down with Dad’s agent, and we came up with a plan. I might no longer have my dad standing beside me, but I have an amazing agent and the Jetties’ PR department, ready for when word gets out.
All of that is because I’m privileged. Not everyone else has that. Not all clubhouses stand behind the inclusivity they preach. It’s a fact that players have been blackballedfrom baseball for their sexual orientation. The fear Easton holds is real, even with the strides the sport has made. Billy Bean, who came out after he retired from the big leagues, was significant in promoting LGBTQ+ representation within baseball before he passed. But we have a long fucking way to go. If it were so easy, there’d be a hell of a lot of queer ballplayers out right now.
“I’ll text Alf,” I say. “I’ll have him let us in the side-door. We can go right up to the club and skip the line and any curious onlookers.
“Okay.” Easton finally looks mollified. Sort of. He bites his lip. “So…what dowewear?”
“We’re going to wear indecently tight jeans—but stretchy enough for a full squat. If I’ve gleaned anything about your boyfriend, you’re going to need to be able to drop it low if you want to keep up with him. Then for a shirt…” I grin. “Odds are it comes off within five minutes.”
“I like to go with a button-up and just don’t button it,” Paulie says.
“Always a good option,” I say. “I like cut-out tanks, ones with super-thin straps. Easy to take off. Shows off the nipple piercing, which guys love.”
Easton groans. “I hate these kinds of things.”
“Easton, I promise you have nothing to be nervous about,” I say. “Just wear a tight white tee. Done. You don’t have to get decked out. It’s all personal preference.”
“Yeah, man,” Paulie adds. “You’re literally going to have a sweaty Madz grinding on you all night. You’ll be in heaven. The three of us can sit back and have some drinks when we get there, let those four”—he points to the ceiling—“get a little of their excess energy out. Then join them on the dance floor.”
I smirk. “Or, if you’re still really nervous, Maddox can take you to the back room and blow you.”
Easton’s eyes stretch wide. “O-oh. Um. That doesn’t sound so bad then.”
Paulie and I burst out laughing.
Swaying hips.Pulsing lights. Bare thighs. Throbbing bass. Flexing Muscles.
The dance floor is a mass of bodies writhing in time to the bass-heavy DJ set. It’s not easy to make out people in the dim lighting, even with the sporadic flash of neon lights. But I’ve always been able to see my Sunshine. Myboyfriend. Damn.
“Fuck me,” I growl.
Nebs laughs at my side. “I cannot get over those shorts, man.”
Me either. I’m trying to be good. I’m trying to let Shane have this experience before I steal him for myself. But those criminally short rainbow popsicle shorts are making it really. Fucking. Hard.
They’re making a lot of things really fucking hard.
So are his abs rippling in the neon glow. He’s wearing a loosely woven black button-up, hanging open to reveal all of that Florida-tanned skin. Those small pink nipples. I bite my cheek.Urgh. His golden curls are tied back with a rainbow scarf. He’s rocking his hippie vibe, and I’m digging it. I’d like to make some free love with him.
