He hitches himself up my body, lifts a hand, and brushes strands of hair from my face. “Yeah, that is so,” he says, then sighs contentedly. He shifts around, sitting next to me, but draping an arm around my neck. “How about a movie? I bet I can find one you haven’t seen.”
“Sure. Have a go,” I say, settling in next to him.
He flicks through the streaming options, then finally settles on If Found, Please Return.
“Really?”
“What do you mean, really?” Nate asks.
“You honestly think I haven’t seen If Found, Please Return? It’s bloody fucking amazing.”
“I know. We’ll watch it again. Plus, I love Jude Fox,” he says.
“Do you have a thing for English accents?”
He licks his lips, shoots me a smile. “Seems I do. Got a problem with that?”
“Not one bit,” I say.
But I’ve got to find a problem with him because maybe I do want to go to his football game.
And see him again.
And ask him out.
As we watch the movie I’ve seen three times, I talk back to my overactive brain. I tell myself there’s no reason to worry. Nate is clearly a hookup kind of guy. I can handle hookups. I want hookups.
Hell, the way his hands are all over me as we watch the film, he seems to have sex on his mind a lot.
As the credits roll, he nibbles on his lip, like he’s lost in thought. He glances at the clock on the wall.
My heart beats faster. Nerves skitter across my skin.
“Laundry almost done?” I ask since I think the dryer stopped a while ago.
“Yeah. Shit,” he says.
“What’s wrong?” A strange dose of unease wiggles through me.
“I need to go too,” he says.
Oh. That’s a new line. This is his place. “Got another date?” I ask, a little cold because fuck him if he does.
He scoffs—several times. Then he grabs my waist. “Dude. I would not jizz all over your abs if I had another date.”
“Jizz. Lovely,” I say, cracking up.
“I’m a classy guy.” He heaves a sigh. “Anyway, listen. No, I don’t have a date. Don’t even go there. Don’t even suggest that. But here’s the thing. I’m into you, but I’m not into relationships and shit. So please know where this is coming from.” He stops to swallow then continues. “I would love to sleep with you, and hang with you, and suck you off, and party with you. But I need to catch a flight to Vegas tonight to spend the weekend with some buds. Is there any chance you’d want to come with me, and we can have fun and hang out and then fuck till we’re too tired to move?”
Dear God, this hunk is speaking my language. “What do you know? I’m not keen on relationships either.”
“Then, in the immortal words of Hump My Ass Off Bogart, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship with benefits.”
“Ah, is that Cockablanca? Now that movie I’d watch again too.”
“Same here. So it’s a date,” he says.
And we have a date to spend the weekend in Vegas as well.
8
NATE
Somewhere around the exit for the San Francisco airport, my nerves kick in. Like, clammy hands and a weirdly racing heart. And I’m not a nervous guy. When linemen chase me like tigers hunting prey, I hardly feel nervous—just steely determination to catch the ball and carry it as far as superhumanly possible.
But going to Vegas with a dude I met six hours ago?
This has all the makings of a very bad idea. Traveling with someone can be awkward with a capital A.
As I shoulder my bag, exit the car, and make my way through the airport, I do my damnedest to chill the fuck out. After grabbing my phone from my front pocket, I fire off a text to Jason.
* * *
Nate: Off to Sin City. Taking the hottie. I plan to practice all my skills.
* * *
Jason: Dude.
* * *
Nate: It’ll be fine. It’s Vegas, baby. Plus, you’ll be there tomorrow. TJ will too, and we’ll all just hang and party. It’ll be cool. I got this.
* * *
Jason: Good. I have faith in you then. But I might check up on you before I arrive. Maybe even while I’m there. :)
* * *
Nate: Course you will. I presume you’ll be studying game film of the new Renegades QB until then?
* * *
Jason: Yes.
Hmm. Jason isn’t usually short in his replies when we’re talking football. But maybe he’s worried about the new rival quarterback in town.
Nate: Beck is a fast mofo. But you’re the best there is.
* * *
Jason: Indeed.
* * *
There he goes again. Curt, and that’s weird. But I don’t have time to parse out his short replies since it’s my turn to show my ID and head through security.
As I stride toward the gate, I map the weekend in my mind. We’ll go to the concert tomorrow, then the party after. For tonight? Maybe some blackjack and bets. Yup. It’s the perfect Mister Casual recipe.