Page 112
I’d never seen Jack embarrassed in my life, but he blushed like a virgin. “We’re great. And the sex . . .”
“Let me guess: also great?”
He laughed loudly, but thankfully, the lunch crowd had mostly cleared out. “You’ve got it. It’s really great, and it’s become . . . even more than I expected, I guess. In a good way.” He shook his head. “But anyway, how are you? Anyone special in your life? Last we talked, you were head over heels for that camboy, right?”
“Jesus, has it been that long since we talked about this? Yes, I actually do have someone special in my life. And yes, it is the camboy. His name is Tristan, and he’s incredible. We’ve been dating for six months now.”
Jack leaned back in his chair and let out a whistle. “Well, shit. I didn’t see it going that way! How the fuck did you manage to score a hot young twink who jacks off on the internet?”
I chuckled, thankful he’d relayed that delightful bit of inappropriate public conversation at a low volume, and sipped the last of my water since my lemonade was long gone. The attentive server showed up with a pitcher to refill the glass almost immediately then set the check down in the middle of the table. “Turns out, he was the same guy I was crushing on in real life.”
“No shit?”
I nodded.
“Damn! How did you not know it was him?”
I chuckled at the thought. “He wears a mask, lowers his voice, and speaks with an accent that I never would’ve thought he could pull off. But, Jack, Tristan is . . . he’s incredible. He’s the most amazing man—the most amazing boy—for me. The sex is, well, off-the-charts hot. Our kinks line up so well. And outside of the bedroom? Fuck . . . I’m the luckiest goddamn sonofabitch that ever lived.”
Jack grinned, raising his glass to me. I picked up my own to toast him. “Cheers to us finding our men.” We clinked our glasses and took a drink, then Jack huffed. “Damn, never thought I’d say that.”
I laughed. “Honestly, me neither. But I’m glad you found your Julian.”
“And I’m glad you found your Tristan.”
We sipped our waters in silence as Jack pulled out his wallet and set a card down on top of the check. When I started to protest, he raised his hand to silence me. “Save your money to outlast whatever this fucker started. You don’t know how long it will take to resolve.”
I sighed, slumping in my chair. “You’re not wrong. Thanks, man.”
“Anytime.”
Once the check was paid and his card returned, we headed out the door toward our vehicles. Jack stopped me when we reached his. “Listen, for what it’s worth, I’m here to help however I can. That event? I’m happy to attend when it happens. Did you catch that? When, not if.”
Despite his abrasive nature, Jack really was a good guy. I clapped him on his suited shoulder. “Thanks, man. Appreciate you meeting me like this. Let’s not go so long without meeting up again, okay?”
“Damn straight! We’ve got a fiftieth birthday to celebrate!”
“Oh no,” I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Please rein it in.”
“For you?” He shouted his next word to the heavens. “Never!”
“Oh, Jesus,” I muttered under my breath as he laughed, calling a goodbye as he climbed into his sleek late-model luxury car.
I was chuckling when I got into my truck and drove off.
Chapter forty
Tristan
Mid-June
Every June, Lakeside Tranquility hosted a senior prom for their residents and those in the surrounding communities. Older adults in the area dressed up, had a nice dinner, danced the night away, and voted on who would be prom king and queen.
It was so much fun, and I was glad Natasha had enlisted my help. Since Henry hadn’t gotten closer to a solution to Mix It Up’s woes in the last week, I needed the distraction.
As I walked through the welcoming entrance, waving at Harvey as he buzzed me in, I deliberately shifted my mind away from Henry’s predicament to happier thoughts. Specifically, the way our relationship had progressed over the past several months—even the past few weeks.
Perhaps not surprisingly, the trouble with Mix It Up had brought us closer. We’d professed our love right before it happened—something I never thought I’d do say nothing of trust that it was real—and I hadn’t spent a night at home since, only returning briefly to grab a few things. I’d started keeping clothes, toiletries, and a few select toys—ones he didn’t have in the extensive collection we’d been slowly working our way through—at Henry’s house, but I’d also taken to bringing along my gaming equipment so I didn’t have to go all the way home to play. I much preferred spending the evening at his house so I could fall into bed with him when he got home, usually in the early hours of the morning.
