Page 149 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 1

We shared a little laugh. “Maybe later. Let’s just walk for now.”

And we did. In total silence and for a long while. We each sipped our beers, walking all across campus and through the main gates, then into the heart of the city. Some bars were still open, drunks sprawled out on the tables, and bartenders shaking their heads in dismay while cleaning up. It was more appropriate to say it was early than late.

“Do you have any particular destination in mind?” Beckett asked after a while and a few intersections where I picked random directions.

“Um…” A life without conundrums? An adulthood that was long overdue after my destructive tendencies? But those were the topics better unvoiced. “Not really.”

Beckett nodded once. He didn’t say anything, but his stride became a little longer. He gained half a foot on me and led the way. When we crossed Jefferson Avenue, I knew where he was taking me. Still quiet, Beckett led me by the Brodhead Naval Armory, into the Gabriel Richard Park, and all the way down to the Detroit Riverwalk. We stood in the stiff, frosted grass and looked at the slow passage of water before us until Beckett shot me a boyish grin and hopped down to the rocks of the riverbank.

He plopped down on the rocks and seemed like he had never been more comfortable. Water splashed a few paces away from him.

I was reluctant to risk slipping into the freezing Detroit River, but Beckett’s coziness lured me in. Also, he’d taken the remaining four beers in the pack from me. I was careful getting down, then sat next to him. We practically huddled for warmth, our shoulders and sides pressed together. He handed me a new beer and took one for himself.

Not once did Beckett disturb the silence. I realized that he had gotten out of his warm bed for my sake and walked out into the freezing cold for no other reason than that I had asked him. He waited for me to do whatever I needed to do.

It shamed me to admit that I wasn’t sure I would have done the same. I hoped I would have. I wanted to be the person who would.

“What keeps you up at night?” I asked in a forcedly casual tone. Finding a way to put my thoughts into coherent sentences was hard. Hell, I hardly knew what had kept me awake.

Beckett let out a descending whistle blow. “That’s a million-dollar question right there.” His gaze followed the lights that lead from MacArthur Bridge to Belle Isle. “Did you ever swim here?”

“No.” I had never spent my summers in Detroit. I always went home. Then, when we returned for conditioning and early practice in August, I was too busy to be bothered, especially when my summer had otherwise been filled with swimming.

“It’s a neat beach,” he said, vaguely pointing upriver at Belle Isle. “We should go in July. You’d like a bit of competition against the stream.”

My heart throbbed. “We?”

Beckett cocked one side of his lips up and looked at me plainly. “Unless you have plans on getting us both kicked off the team, I don’t see why not.”

I bit my lip. That wasn’t a promise of our fling lasting until warmer days. It was an offer of friendship. All else was unsaid. “Maybe,” I said. It was too easy to imagine swimming upriver with Beckett, betting on who would win, and making the loser bottom for a week. Or top for a week if our preferences changed. I thought it was amusing to turn our roles around like that, to fight who would receive the ride of his life and who would need to do the heavy lifting. I could see us there, on the Belle Isle beach, running toward the river, wet and glistening in the sunshine.

Damn him for giving me those ideas.

“Jones,” he said softly, reluctantly.

“Huh?” I blinked at him, then looked ahead to where the sky was just a little lighter than it had been when we sat down.

“I…” He held a breath. “I’m sorry I taunted you about flirting with guys.”

I frowned. I had never expected an apology to cross Beckett’s pouty lips. I hadn’t known he was capable of one. And it was suddenly clear to me, this division between us. I had never thought he could apologize; I had always known firmly that I could. And yet, I had never apologized to him, either. Maybe there was some truth in him calling me a righteous prick.

I opened my mouth to blurt some of this out before it escaped me, but Beckett lifted his hand to stop me. He inhaled and continued. “I couldn’t stand watching it, that’s true. I just didn’t realize why. I thought…I thought you were being an ass, rubbing your sexuality in my face, when in truth, I couldn’t stomach you leaving with some guy who wasn’t me.”

My lips parted, not to speak, but in surprise.

“I think I have been attracted to you for…a while,” he said, forcing a small smile, then hiding it with the can he tipped to pour beer into his mouth.

“Fuck, Beckett, I don’t…I don’t know what to say.” My eyebrows rose so high that it hurt. He grinned and shook his head, but I found a few words I could share. “These two weeks meant a lot more to me than I can say.”

“You really think that?” he asked softly, his words almost drowned out in the river’s murmurs.

“You’re a good bottom,” I teased.

He jabbed his elbow into my ribs. “You’re a good bottom.”

I sucked my teeth. “Let’s agree just once in our lives, we’re both good bottoms.”

Beckett lifted his head solemnly. “It’s time to order a double-sided dildo.”