I’ve never kissed anybody, so I wouldn’t have anything to compare it to, but I bet it’d be nice. He has a lot of experience in that department. Being in high school and never having kissed anybody is embarrassing. It’s not something I broadcast by any means.
For a long time, I thought it was just because I was awkward and overweight, not popular. But then when Ryan had his birthday party over the summer, Taylor, a girl from our grade, got drunk on Mike’s Hard Lemonades and tried to kiss me out back, and the idea of letting her lips touch mine made me want to throw up.
It was at that moment I realized it probably wasn’t only because I’m awkward and overweight that I haven’t hooked up with anybody. It also probably has to do with the fact that I’m about ninety-eight percent sure I’m not straight. And as I sit here, hard and practically drooling while I watch Ryan lose himself to the music, I’m about one hundred percent certain it’s my best friend I’m into.
Chapter Nineteen
Jules van der Meer
I got back from California a few days ago and have been in a funk ever since. Just as I figured, I wasn’t able to see Ryan the entire time I was there. I called and texted him an absurd number of times, too, with no luck. If I were an outsider looking in on the situation, I’d tell me to give it a rest. That if Ryan wanted to have a relationship with me, he would, and I can’t force him. But as a parent in this position, it’s not that easy. It’s not easy to give up on your kid and accept that they want nothing to do with you.
I’m wrapping up at work when my phone pings with a new text message.
Giselle: Jamie is free for dinner tomorrow evening. 7pm. Same place work for you?
He clearly never told her that we knew each other if she keeps calling him Jamie to me. That’s fine with me, though… I guess he isn’t as adamant to get rid of me as he says he is.
Me: Yes, same place, please.
My thumb hovers over the screen before I send one more.
Me: Please make that an overnight.
Nerves dance loosely in my stomach while I wait for her to respond. I’m not sure how he handles business. Some escorts don’t do full overnights, some do. However, I typicallyneverkeep a call boy for that long. It’s usually an hour or two on my way home. I don’t know if it’s simply because he’s playing hard to get and I’m not used to not getting what I want, but I can’t seem to control myself around him.
It’s probably not the best idea to hire and fuck my son’s old high school friend, especially when I’m not on speaking terms with him, but I can’t help myself. Bodhi’s… I can’t even put words to it. He’s beautiful, and stunning, and intriguing. And my God, has he grown into himself over the years with his blue eyes that seem to pierce the deepest parts of me and the pout to his full, pink lips that practically beg for me to nibble down on.
Don’t even get me started on his body… so fucking lean and petite, like I could throw him around and break him. He’s not my usual type when it comes to men, but the feel of his lithe body in my arms as I pressed into him against the wall the other day was almost too much to handle. I can’t even remember the last time I almost came without any skin-to-skin stimulation, but I was close with him. The way his body writhed against mine, fingers tugging on my hair, and the soft moans I swallowed from him. He’s tempting. Too tempting.
My phone vibrates in my palm, startling me back to reality.
Giselle: You got it.
******
“Good evening, sir. Table for one?”
“Two, please. Can I get a quiet table toward the back?”
Smoothing a hand over my hair, I follow the hostess through the restaurant as she leads me to a table. Bodhi should be here any minute, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Getting ready for tonight, a pang of guilt hit me. I can’t even pinpoint where the guilt is coming from, either.
Even though I have loved Lorelei for a good portion of my life, it’s been glaringly obvious since a young age that women don’t satisfy me the way men do. I’ve never regretted marrying her, though. Lorelei is kind and caring, created a warm, comfortable home for me. She gave me the gift of being a father. We took care of one another for many years, and loved one another even though our marriage wasn’t typical. I don’t think it’s possible to regret something that led to such a beautiful life, but I’ve always yearned for more. Where she was soft hands and supple skin, I’ve craved a rougher touch and stubble scratching my flesh. To be honest, Bodhi is closer to the opposite side of the spectrum of what I normally crave, but what he lacks in the masculinity I normally reach for, he makes up in his sheer beauty.
He radiates a painfully poetic sense of sadness. Like he’s broken—shattered, even—and dying to finally be put back together but doesn’t know how to ask for help. Doesn’t know how to accept the help. He’s always carried this tragic weight on his shoulders for as long as I can remember, even when he was just the confused teenager I barely knew and hardly ever saw.
My eyes catch on the entrance to the lounge as he strolls inside. With a quick sweep of the room, his blue gaze lands on me, his shoulders seeming to stiffen as he heads my way. His sense of style never fails to throw me off because, had it been anybody else wearing what he does, it would look atrocious. But it’s him, and he looks remarkable in the olive-green knit sweater with the oversized sleeves and the hem that cuts off right above his belly button, the tight black skinny jeans that almost shimmer in the dimmed light of the room, his ankle boots that match his top perfectly, and the tightly woven silver chain hanging from his neck.
The closer he gets, the more I notice about him. Like the way his eyes are thinly lined with black, and his already thick and dark lashes appear that much darker and longer. His lips are peachy and glossy, further accentuating his already plump pout, and I think what surprises me—and turns me on—the most is the glint of metal peeking out from beneath his sweater through his belly button.
Never in my life have I seen a man in person with his belly button pierced… but somehow, it works effortlessly for him. He’s so goddamn sexy, and I don’t think he even realizes it. My eyes drag up his body once more, and when my eyes meet his, a sultry little smirk tugs on his lips. It’s surprising coming from him, but fuck, is it welcome.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I say, motioning for him to take a seat across from me.
There’s something in the way he’s looking at me tonight that feels different. Flirtation dances in his gaze and the air around us feels supercharged. This isn’t like the other two times we’ve met here for dinner.
In place of a response, he bites down on his glossy lower lip chastely and nods. For a moment, neither of us speaks. We drink each other in greedily and unabashedly until our server steps up to the table, breaking the intense bubble.
“Good evening, my name is Winston, and I’ll be your server this evening. Can I start you two off with something to drink? Water? Maybe some wine?”
