Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to pretend with me. That’s what I guess I’m trying to lead up to here, though it’s taking me a while. I’ve been thinking about it a lot actually, ever since last night. I think what happened between us is this, and you correct me if I’m wrong.”
Will leaned forward. This was it. Jack was going to say thanks but no thanks, in his kind, rambling, gracious way and Will would have no choice but to accept his decree. He forced himself to be calm and tried not to leap to conclusions.
“Last night you told me in so many words you…” He paused and gave a small, embarrassed laugh. “I’m sorry, I don’t know the right words for this sort of thing when it’s between guys, so just bear with me. I don’t even know the words grownups use for this sort of thing. It’s been so long since I was in circulation, if I ever was. So I’ll just say it best I can. Last night you admitted you had a crush on me. And I tried to tell you back that I do too.”
Will stared at him, his heart beginning a rapid, steady patter.
Jack looked embarrassed but tried again. “I mean I”—his voice lowered to nearly a whisper—“have a crush on you too.”
Will felt laughter bubble up and threaten to spill out. He forced it down, aware Jack was very serious and also very embarrassed by what he was saying. The last thing he needed was for Will to laugh at him. It was hard, though, not to smile. His language was so quaint, so junior-high sweet. A crush? They shared a mutual crush? Was the next step to ask each other to go steady? Or taking it back another generation, who would wear whose pin?
Though younger by more than ten years, Will felt older than Jack at that moment, and more than a bit jaded. The crowd he ran with, or had run with until recently, would think nothing of picking up a stranger in a bar, taking him home for the night and then promptly forgetting him once he was out the door.
Friendship rarely entered the equation. What a lonely way to live. Even with Paul, whom he would call a friend if pressed, the only thing they really shared in common was their workout at the gym and the sex afterwards. They rarely talked about anything that mattered, certainly not their feelings toward one another.
In that regard this was all new to Will too, as was knowing how to proceed with a man who hadn’t said he was gay or even bi, but simply that he had a crush.
Well, it was a start, wasn’t it? At least he hadn’t told Will he wanted nothing more to do with him. Nor had he delivered the tired, painful speech about being just friends.
So there was hope. A quote he’d read sometime back that had always stayed in his mind surfaced now. “If it were not for hopes, the heart would break.” He touched his chest, now covered in a yellow T-shirt, and knew his heart was very much intact. He grinned widely at Jack and, unable to resist, said, “You’ve got a crush on me, Jack Crawford? Well, that’s just swell.”
To hide his embarrassment, Jack took another cannoli and bit into the delicious confection. He noticed a smudge of dirt on Will’s cheek and resisted the urge to reach over the table and wipe it off.
He honestly had no idea what would happen next. Were they now supposed to go upstairs and have sex? His mind recoiled at the idea, while his cock lifted its head, decidedly curious.
Curious. That must be what he was. He’d heard the phrase before—bi-curious. Will was watching him, the smile lingering on his face.
“You know, the game’s coming on in a minute. I was going to watch it. Do you like baseball?” Will asked.
Jack was taken aback for a moment. Mentally he chided himself, realizing he just assumed gay men wouldn’t like sports. What a bigoted idiot he was. Aloud he said, “Sure. Do you think the Mets have a chance this year?”
“You a Mets fan too?” Will snorted. “They always have a chance—and then they break our hearts.”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed, feeling suddenly a lot more comfortable.
“You can’t have cannoli and coffee with baseball.” Will laughed. “I’ll get us a couple of beers.” He took two bottles from the refrigerator and they moved into the living room, settling beside each other on the large, comfortable sofa that faced a huge flat-screen TV.
The game had just started and the Mets were at bat. They talked about the players for a while, discussing statistics and the Mets’ chance for the World Series. Jack leaned back against the cushions, feeling happy but nervous as a teenager on his first date.