He shakes his head. “I can’t lose my place on this team. I … I need to focus.”
“Got it.” I think Miller’s full of it, but he isn’t completely wrong. We should be hitting the weights to get back in top physical form for the season to start.
I let him walk away, and for the first time since I moved here, I realize things between us can’t easily go back to the way they were in college.
Apparently being a grown-up means shit changes, and if that’s the case, when the fuck did I get old?
* * *
I always figured a life-altering moment would begin with a gut warning or spidey senses telling me something’s not right. But no. Apparently, whatever controls my life, whether it be fate, the universe, or a god with a sick sense of humor, whatever it is, they’re probably laughing their ass off at me right now.
With Miller being weird, I had the plan to drag Jackson out for a few drinks. The coaches have roomed us together because of my status and his … gayness. They think having me around Jackson will give him some sort of protection. I’m happy to do it, but I wasn’t expecting the eyeful I just got.
It’s nothing I haven’t seen before being on the road with testosterone-filled athletes who need to blow off stress, but this was different.
Jackson and his boyfriend, Noah, were going at it when I walked in, and I couldn’t bring myself to walk away.
I stood, mesmerized by their bodies moving against one another. Hard muscle against Noah’s toned frame, miles of bare skin, light against dark … Even though they were rutting against each other like animals in heat, Jackson whispering claiming words of love and forever while they got totally lost in one another is what I can’t get out of my head.
As soon as they realized I was there, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I have no idea what I said or did, but my feet led me down to the lobby as fast as they could carry me.
Now, sitting at the hotel bar with a glass of scotch in front of me, I can’t bring myself to take a drink in fear I won’t be able to swallow it without choking.
It’s not from disgust or shock or whatever someone might expect a straight guy to feel when seeing two men naked and writhing, moaning manly sounds and grunts, and covering each other in cum. Nope, it’s the utter surprise of how much I liked it that’s freaking me out.
Not just liked it but got hard over it, and I don’t mean a little twitch of interest. My cock was practically sticking straight up as if volunteering to join them.
I’ve seen porn where it’s been two guys on one girl. Hell, I’ve lived that with Miller, but doing stuff with him or any other guy had never occurred to me. I didn’t even know something like that could turn me on. Seeing Miller’s muscular arms wrapped around a woman’s petite frame drives me wild, but I always thought it was her or both of them together that was the appeal. Now, I can’t help thinking otherwise, because what I just saw flipped a switch … or opened my eyes. Or something.
I internally groan and refrain from banging my head on the bar in front of me.
I don’t know what’s worse: making a big deal out of nothing and possibly creating a weird relationship with my roommate or that I can’t stop picturing Jackson on top of his boyfriend.
They moved in sync, like they knew each other inside and out. It was frantic but also full of tenderness, like the way Jackson cupped his boyfriend’s face as he kissed him slowly, and they were so invested in each other they didn’t even hear me come in.
Until this moment, I’d only heard of that type of love existing. People claim it. You see tenderness between lovers when they walk down the street. The kiss of a hand. In the gentle way their mouths come together. But that’s all in public. It’s tame and appropriate. It’s not primal or needy.
When Miller said he could only be with one person, I didn’t understand it, but there’s no doubt in my mind I just witnessed what he meant by it. All of my relationships have been about having fun, and fun to me is as many sweaty bodies as you can fit in a bed.
I wonder if Miller’s ever had that—the elusive single soul to connect with. The way he spoke about being with one person, it sounded like he knew from experience. He didn’t have anyone serious in college, but that doesn’t mean anything. We’ve fallen out of touch these past six years. He could’ve had a harem of women, and I wouldn’t know.