His eyes go glossy, his jaw slack. “Get on me, River. Now,” he says, his arms pinned and tied above his head.
Slowly but surely, I lower myself onto him.
We groan.
We’re so loud it’s dangerous. Neighbors could hear.
Let them. Just let them. I’m going to ride my man’s cock into the night.
And I do.
Eyes wide open.
Desire flooding all the space between us.
And love just everywhere.
All the love—friendly love, sexual love, romantic love.
I have it all with Owen.
And like that, we come together.
27
River
Grant strides into The Lazy Hammock a few nights later, eyes lasered in on me, I told you so written in them. Declan is by his side.
I turn to Owen at the bar in front of me, drinking a Tom Collins and chatting with TJ, who’s in San Francisco for a few days. “He’s going to gloat.”
“You think so?” Owen asks drily. “I suspect he’ll ask for a medal of commendation.”
TJ smirks, then knocks back some of his old-fashioned.
I stretch a hand across the bar, grab Owen’s and squeeze. “I’d give it to him. I’d so give it to him,” I say of Grant, even though I’m looking at the man I am smitten with.
Grant reaches the bar, holds out his arms wide, and says, “How about those San Francisco Hawks?”
At the mention of the local football team, Owen lifts a hand to high-five. “Well played.”
“Speaking of well played,” Declan cuts in as they take their seats at the bar, “how was your Friendsgiving? Anything interesting happen last weekend?”
As I get to work prepping their usuals, I answer breezily. “Oh you know. A little snow. A fire. A hot tub.”
Declan squeezes Grant’s shoulder. “You were Eros.”
Grant shakes his head. “Nah, we were just enablers, Deck. The real Eros is Mother Nature.”
TJ lifts his glass. “Or maybe the real Eros is these two guys seeing each other in a whole new light. Sometimes you just have to get out of town for that.”
Owen nods, lifts his glass. “To the power of Eros, aka the God of . . . Road Trips.”
I slide drinks to Grant and Declan, and they lift theirs too. “To the power of Paul Rudd.”
Grant knits his brow in question.
“Inside joke,” I say, then I lean across the bar and press a kiss to Owen’s lips.
When I break the kiss, I turn to Grant and Declan. “By the way, you told me so.”
“And I’ve never been so happy to hear that,” Grant says.
TJ lifts his glass once more, then looks somewhere in the distance, a faraway haze in his eyes.
Like he’s lost in time.
28
TJ
I didn’t plan to be in San Francisco.
My schedule said that it was time to return to New York.
I have meetings and whatnot, including one coming up any day with Webflix. I’d figured I’d be in New York, prepping for it.
You don’t miss a meeting with the world’s biggest streaming service. Not when it’s optioned the rights to your best-selling book.
But when I talked to my agent the other day, he made it clear I needed to stay the fuck out of the scene of the crime for a few more days.
“New York is getting you down, TJ. Go west, young man. Head to San Francisco. Meet a guy. Go on a date. Maybe that’ll inspire you,” he’d said to me. “Then, we’ll do the meeting.”
I’d like some inspiration, thank you very much.
I’d like it to fall from the sky, jump out of a doorway. Hell, it could come in the form of a scary clown, rising up out of a sidewalk grate.
I need it. Badly.
So I said yes, and ventured here after Friendsgiving. I’ve been kicking around San Francisco for a few days.
But I’m not inspired, even at the Lazy Hammock, so I’ve been dateless.
Story of my life for the last year.
I can’t complain though. Aside from romance, my life is good. Even though seeing all these guys around me find their happily-ever-afters tugs on my heart.
Makes me wish mine hadn’t cratered so spectacularly.
But as I knock back the rest of my drink, listening to Owen and River catch up with Grant and Declan, I reason maybe it’s safer this way, on this side of heartbreak. Just getting to be the guy who’s happy for his friends.
That’s what I tell Owen when I leave the bar that night, pulling him in for a hug. “So happy for you, O,” I say.
“Thanks. You gave me the kick in the pants to make it happen.”
“Nah. You didn’t need me.” I rap my knuckles against his sternum. “You found that kick in the pants right there, my friend.”
I say goodbye, then I leave, heading out into the San Francisco night.
Alone.
Maybe someday I’ll be ready again.
Maybe someday soon.
Epilogue
Owen
The next year is everything.
We live it up, River and Owen style. We go to his parents’ house for Thanksgiving, like we planned, and it’s freeing to walk in there holding hands. His parents are ecstatic, draping us in hugs.