Taking my shower and then running a bath for Jack has become a bit of a nightly ritual, but I don't notice because my mind is replaying the conversation we just had over again. I am filling the tub, grinning to myself like a loser, when I realize the bear of a man is standing behind me in the doorway. As the hot water rises, I feel a bit awkward that I am bent over the flooding basin in just my towel. Had I known he was coming up here so quickly, I would have changed after my quick shower before getting the tub ready.
"Thank you, Tyson," I hear him say.
From over my shoulder, I ask, "What for?"
The blur I see of him, I know he is only in his cotton briefs. There is no way I can talk to him at this moment without being distracted by his chest or his eyes or the outline of his manhood in the pouch of his underwear. The visible line his mushroom head makes through the fabric.
"For trusting me. For saying those things," he replies.
"Well, duh, Jack. No matter how much time has gone by or how much I dislike you, I am always going to stand by you."
As I finish, I turn to him knowing if I keep ignoring him it will definitely look strange. To my surprise, he has covered the distance between us and is now only an arm's length from me. Though this helps me focus on just his face, the idea that he is so close to me makes my heartbeat quicken. It makes me want to take him in my arms again, but his expression is a bit of an enigma. He looks deeply pleased and strangely sad at the same time.
"That means a lot," he says quietly.
He reaches out and rests his meaty mitt on my hip, just above my towel. I can smell the maple aroma of bourbon on his breath. The crickets are singing outside the open window. Primal heat between our bare chests makes my cheeks flush. This is nothing like the embrace we just shared in the kitchen. This intimacy is a different level. He stares directly into my eyes. Searching me inside and out for the sign. He wants it to be okay. He wants me to make the next move.
But, in fear, I don't. For I can visualize the line in the sand. The line that is only inches away from being crossed. Our toes are right up to the proverbial edge. Only one touch, one movement could break the covenant I have with my oldest friend. I can't afford fucking this up.
Yet I am hard as hell under my towel.
Our worlds hang in the balance and if this blows up in my face, which could quite possibly happen, I don't know what I would do if I lost my only ally.
He must be able to read my mind. Thankfully or unfortunately, I can't tell, he breaks the connection.
Looking down, I am sure he notices the tent that has popped up.
His eyes come back to mine with a grin; his hand moves to my shoulder more like a buddy than a lover.
Jack only says, "Call Sean back. Tell him you'll be there."
I nod slowly and step out of his way. The air in my meat tire deflates. Walking toward the door, I hear him slide into the tub.
"Tyson, wait," he blurts.
I turn a bit too excitedly, unable to hide my anticipation. Did he change his mind? Is he going to tell me to forget Sean? Has he realized what we have going here? Is he going to ask me to join him?
"Can you get me a towel?"
I know I look like an idiot. A deer stuck in headlights. That's it? After that moment everything just switches back to normal between us. I am caught off guard: should I be annoyed or relieved?
Finding his gaze, I yank my own towel from my waist and chuck it in his direction. Even as hard as I know he tries not to, I watch his eyes dart from the crumpled cloth pile on the floor to my naked body then back to my eyes.
"Anything else, my liege," I ask, folding my arms across my chest. "Or can I go get master's dinner together."
I am not sure if his smile is from my stupid comments or the fact that he is enjoying the all-access striptease I am giving him, but Jack just sits there for almost a half minute smirking like a dumbass. A sexy as fuck dumbass.
"The king is good, thank you." He gives me a slick wink and slowly lies his head back against the rim of the tub.
***
Sitting in a Cracker Barrel parking lot on Friday at three o'clock in the afternoon, I am meeting some friends coming up I-77 from the annoyingly posh Lake Norman area. They are going to scoop me and take me the rest of the way to Sean's place.
Earlier in the week, my plans changed and I added intentions of asking Officer Scott for travel permission for a long weekend to head to Winston-Salem to visit Sean. Little did I know at the time that Sean was hosting a huge, double-night house party in honor of his own birthday that weekend, but it worked out in my favor for ride access. I would have hated asking Jack to drive me the whole way, even though he said he would have.
I am starting to get the feeling that he really does want to get rid of me.
Since Sean called, I had been on the fence about seeing him, but based on the combination of advice on Tuesday and cold shoulder on Wednesday I received from Jack, I guess my decision was easier to make.
No idea what happened. Tuesday night I felt we were so close to hooking up in the bathroom, and now we have only said about six sentences to each other since we woke up Wednesday. I am not sure if I went too far with the whole towel thing or if he felt things got a bit out of hand, though nothing actually happened, or if he is concerned about what happened between him and Claire, but it is clear that whatever he was feeling for me is gone now.
Which definitely made my text to Sean much easier to write once my meeting with Scott was over for the week and she granted me free travel until Tuesday (with a drug test the moment I get back, of course). Once the partying fizzles out by Sunday morning, Sean and I will have that night and most of Monday to have some alone time before he takes me back to Jack's Monday night.
When I asked Jack if Sean could stay the night on Monday, he seemed surprised. After an awkward pause, he said yes, of course. He even suggested that he could go camping Monday and Tuesday so Sean and I could have the cabin to ourselves, but I told him that wouldn't be necessary. He then went into this big explanation about how he might set up a little outing anyway, adding how long it had been since his last campout and how he misses it.
I just let the subject go, though it kinda hurt my feelings that he would rather take off than meet Sean.
My thoughts are run off by the sound of Megan's Volvo pulling up beside Greyson.
"Well, there she is," I say looking over at Jack, who is staring out the windshield at the traffic buzzing by on I-40.
Suddenly, I want nothing more than for him to tell me not to go. I want him to look back at me and say, "Let's go home." I need him to pull me across this bench seat to the middle, put his arm around me, and kick this old truck in reverse. I want him to tell my college friend that something came up, my PO called, that we have to head back to Asheville right this minute. I need the knowledge that this desire growing in me isn't going unrequited.
Jack turns to me. Eye contact for the first time today. My heart flutters. It is clear he is trying to formulate what to say. The suspense kills me. His hand finds my knee.
"Have fun, Ty," he tells me with a forced smile.
He looks at me. I look at him. But he doesn't say anything else.
An "unbelievable" sigh hisses from my lips and as though the cabin of the truck is suddenly going to explode, I almost jumped right out the window. I suddenly wanted to be as far away from Jack as possible.
Before I slam the door behind me, I hear Jack trying to tell me something, but I ignore him. I am already thinking about all of the bad choices I am going to make this weekend.
YOU ARE READING
His Woods (MxM)
Romance(Previously known as Breaking the Beast) Tyson knows he isn't perfect, but he doesn't think he deserves a summer stuck at the old holiday cabin with his dad's friend, Jack. After he gets kicked out of college and assigned probation, Tyson has to lea...
