“You just had one hell of an orgasm, and you’re frowning.” He reaches up and strokes over my brow.
“You don’t want Ryan?”
He shakes his head instantly in answer. “No. He’s nice and good-looking.” I fake gag, and he punches my shoulder lightly before settling back into me. “But it didn’t feel right.”
Does that mean it feels right with me? I want to ask him so damn bad, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this afraid in my life.
“Are you sure though?” It makes me sick to ask, but I need to know.
He rolls off me, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. I roll to my side, propping my head on my hand as I wait for him to answer. He has to be sure. I don’t think I can take him walking away from me again.
At least not to go out on a date with Ryan—Mr. Perfect College Guy. “I’m sure. It was bizarre, Oakley. He was everything I expected him to be, but it was all wrong. The town was even wrong. It was loud and big. So many damn people, you could barely walk around without bumping into someone.”
Sounds awful to me. “But isn’t that what you wanted?”
He rolls to his side too, mirroring my position and looking into my eyes. “I thought it was, but now I don’t know. I think I’m even more lost than I was before.”
It’s not exactly what I want to hear, but at least he’s honest. At least he’s here. For now. I hate the for now part. But I love the right now part. I place my hand on his naked hip and pull him into me, kissing him hard and not giving a fuck about morning breath.
It feels right with him here in my bed. So damn right. “We’ll figure it out together.”
He smiles against my lips, and he looks relaxed in this moment. Not tense. I’m going to take that as a good sign.
I start to lean in to kiss him again, but then groan when I hear the front door open, followed by the loud bellow of my best friend, “Oakley! I swear to Christ if you’re in that damn porch swing just sadly looking out—”
“I’m in here!” I shout, hoping to cut him off.
He peeks his head into my room, and I notice his other half plastered to his back, looking in here too. “Aw, you two figured your shit out.” Garrison sounds way too gleeful.
“Get out,” I say, and he only laughs.
Jameson and he ignore me and walk into my bedroom, plopping down on the edge of the bed. “Was it my peptalk?” But Garrison isn’t looking at me. Instead, he’s looking at Travis, which has me a little confused.
Travis sits up, pulling the cover over both of our waists—I guess paying attention to the fact that we’re both naked. I say if they barged in here, they see what they see. “Why are you two here? Haven’t you paid him back for walking in on you guys by now?”
“Oh hell no,” Jameson answers. “Not even close.”
I chuckle because he’s probably not wrong.
“So are you two officially together?” Garrison doesn’t waste any time or any tact with his question.
I feel Travis tense slightly next to me, and I curse my best friend. I pick my pillow up from behind me and toss it at him. His reflexes must be getting worse since he hasn’t been playing football because it smacks him right in the face. “Shut. Up.”
“What?” He tosses the pillow back, and I catch it. “You two look happy to me.”
I smile because I, for sure, am. “We still have some stuff to figure out,” I say, hoping he’ll drop it.
Thankfully, Jameson, who’s a little bit quicker at picking up on stuff, stands up, pulling his boyfriend up too. “Well, we’ll just be raiding the kitchen for some breakfast. When you two are finished humping, join us.”
I toss the pillow at them as they dodge it before leaving my room and then turn to Travis. “They’re idiots.”
He chuckles and kisses my lips softly, his hand resting on my cheek. “I’m glad I’m here.”
“Me too.” It’s an effortless answer because God, am I glad he’s here.
Though I’m terrified it still doesn’t mean he’s staying.
THIRTY-FIVE
TRAVIS
“Damn, this is cool,” I say, impressed with Oakley’s design and work as we stand in the backyard of Ms. Weaver’s house.
It’s a beautiful stone firepit, with a half-circle, soft-stone bench seat around it and a colorful stone walkway from the house. He topped it off with fresh, green plants and lights to illuminate the path.
“Right?” He’s beaming as he looks at his work—well technically, our work. Garrison and Jameson are here too. It was a big job, and we got it done fairly quickly.
We’ve had quite a bit of business since March when Mrs. Culbertson started spreading the word. We might have enough to start our own business very soon. Word has been spreading out of this town and several over.
Yesterday, on our Saturday, we drove two hours to complete a job, and we’re booked up all through the summer.
It’s good money. But most of all, I’ve had a lot of fun booking the jobs and giving estimates. Planning it all out while Oakley does the designs. We make a really good team.
J and Garrison start cleaning up, and I walk to Oakley’s side. We haven’t really talked much about what we are to each other or what the future holds. I know we should. I know I want to, but I’m afraid.
And I think, for once, he might be also because he hasn’t brought it up either. “What’s your biggest dream, Oakley?” I ask quietly, standing next to him.
He’s still staring at our work but looks deep in thought. “You know I’m simple.”
“Simple can be good.” And I mean that. I never thought I’d want simple and easy. I fought so hard my whole life for what I thought I wanted and didn’t see I was overcomplicating things.
He smiles at that but doesn’t look at me. It’s not that things haven’t been good with us. They’ve been very, very good, in fact. I haven’t spent one night at my place since I told him my date with Ryan was a dud. I’ve spent every night in his bed.
We have breakfast together every morning. Go to work together. Come home together. And that’s really what it’s become—home, even though we haven’t made it official yet. We sure seem like a couple.
I want to be an official couple, but something is holding him back. I can feel it. And I’m too chicken to ask what it is.
“I just want the backyard and the porch swing.” I swallow thickly, listening to his dreams and his voice full of wonder. “I want to build a house and work.” He sweeps his hand in the direction of his newest project. “Just like this, every single day I can. I want to go to football games and hang out with friends. I want a simple, easy, happy life.”
I lean against his side, not even caring that we’re both sweaty. “That sounds nice. Really nice.”
I mean it too. I never thought I would, but I do. The way he paints that life is absolutely beautiful. It’s something so many people would kill for. Something so many would scoff at until they were in it.
So many people like me. Because now that I’m pretty much living that life he described, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.