“Laura said you went to the University of Ottawa? What’d you study?”
“General arts.” A degree that specialized in nothing. How useful. Bo didn’t mention the few months of massage school (he didn’t like the feel of oil on his hands), or the stint at becoming a certified yoga teacher (yoga was boring), or the few college courses he’d taken in hotel management (he wasn’t very detail-oriented), or the one IT course (too complicated), or, most recently, the failed attempt at learning how to teach ESL (he so didn’t have enough patience for that). It would just make him look like the flake Laura was constantly calling him.
Bo took a sip of his beer, and then another, the bitter flavour matching the bitterness he tried not to feel toward Laura. He wasn’t a flake, merely…indecisive. And if he was just a tiny bit flighty, he had his parents to thank for that.
“Hey.” Sam trapped one of Bo’s feet beneath both of his under the table. “It’s okay if you don’t know what you want to do, you know. Nobody says we have to have it figured out by a certain age.”
“Nobody except the entire rest of society. And university admissions offices.” Bo toasted university administrators everywhere with his beer glass and took another sip.
“Fuck ‘em,” Sam said. “You know, my dad grew up on a horse farm outside of Kingston. He decided at a young age that he wanted nothing to do with the business so he went into finance. And then five years ago he quit his job because he hated it. He and my mom bought a farm in Puslinch and they lease the farmland to other farmers so they don’t have to worry about it. Instead they raise horses and run trail rides.”
“Seriously?”
“He’s never been happier. He was fifty-five when he switched careers, so don’t ever let anybody tell you that you’re behind on having your life figured out.”
Sam’s story didn’t erase years of Laura harping on him, but it did make him feel better.
They chatted through their late dinner, polishing off two pounds of BBQ chicken wings and the remainder of their beer. The waitress cleared their dishes and dropped off the cheque.
“You know,” Sam said, “for a little guy, you certainly eat a lot.”
“Excuse me?” Bo sat straighter, indignant. “I am not little. I am a perfectly proportioned concentration of awesome.”
He expected Sam to laugh his answer away, or, worse yet, mock him. Instead, Sam’s eyes went half-lidded and they roamed Bo’s face before dipping to his chest.
“The best things do come in small packages.” The murmur was so quiet, Bo had to strain to hear him. The throaty sound of his voice reached into Bo and made him quake. When Sam leaned his forearms on the table and leaned forward, Bo mimicked the movement, bringing their faces only inches from each other.
“Wanna get out of here?” Sam asked, breath ghosting over Bo’s face. Bo licked his lips as if that would give him a taste of Sam. Sam followed the movement, gaze darkening.
“Definitely.”
The drive home was excruciating.
It also lasted about five hours.
Fine, maybe it took less than forty minutes, but it felt like five hours.
Excruciating.
Sam tried not to break land speed records—he wanted to get them home in one piece, thank you very much—but it was hard when he could feel Bo’s gaze on him, when he could see Bo out of the corner of his eyes, leg bouncing with either nerves or excitement, bottom lip between his teeth.
He’d barely resisted the urge to plant his lips against Bo’s in the parking lot, but he hadn’t wanted to invite trouble. Toronto was a pretty progressive city, but still. He wasn’t about to take any chances with Bo’s safety.
“What’s your favourite colour?” Bo asked out of the blue.
Sam shot him a look.
“What?” Bo laughed the laugh of a dying man and shifted in his seat. “I’m trying to distract myself.”
Fair enough. “I don’t know. Green?”
“Boring.”
Now Sam laughed too. “What? How is that boring?”
“Green and blue are every guy’s favourite colours. Pick a new one.”
“But then it would be a lie.”
Bo rolled his eyes. “Fine, let’s try something else. Favourite movie? Wait, can I guess?”
“Sure.”
Bo drummed his fingers against his chin and narrowed his eyes on Sam. “Casablanca?”
“Never seen it,” Sam admitted.
“Me neither. Butch Cassidy?”
“Nope.”
“Damn. Those were my only two guesses.”
Sam snorted a laugh. “Think newer. But not too new.”
“That helps…not at all. Thanks for that.” Bo thought about it some more. “One of the original Star Wars movies?”
“Nope. Back to the Future.”
“Ooh, good choice. The first one?”
“I love all three, but the first takes the cake.” Sam tore his eyes off the road to glance Bo’s way. “What’s yours? No, wait. I want to guess too.” He thought for a second, then said, “Zootopia?”
Bo chuckled. “Not a bad guess. Incorrect, but you’re on the right track.”
“On the right track in the sense that…it’s about animals?”
“Sort of.”
“‘Sort of,’” Sam repeated. “What about that new one, the one where the pets cause trouble when their owners aren’t home.”
“Incorrect again.”
“Am I right that it’s an animated movie?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Sam grumbled.
Bo’s grin was all faked innocence. “You didn’t ask.”
Cheeky little shit.
“Just tell me,” Sam demanded.
“How to Train Your Dragon.”
“Never seen it.”
“It’s great,” Bo said, peering out his window as Sam took the off-ramp at Ford Drive and went north. “It’s about prejudice and friendship and acceptance.”
He seemed lost in thought. What was going through his head? He was about to ask when Bo looked over, and Sam caught the look in his eyes. The air in the car heated by about a million degrees.
Sam swore under his breath. “Don’t look at me like that.” His own voice was deeper than usual. “Not while I’m driving.”
He used one hand to rearrange himself in his pants. Bo followed the movement. Licked his lips. Sam groaned.
Bo appeared two seconds away from unbuckling himself to lean over the centre console for some ill-timed fellatio, but—
“Bo, I swear, I will crash this car if you come anywhere near me.”
Pouting, Bo sat back in his seat. “I just…really fucking want you.”
“Oh, you’ll have me.”
Sam parked in Bo’s driveway because his house was first. Bo was waiting for him on his side of the car when they stepped out, and Sam didn’t hesitate. He picked Bo up, sat him on the hood of the car, inserted himself between his legs, and kissed him.
They inhaled each other. It was like they’d waited forty years for this kiss instead of forty minutes. Bo’s lips were soft and he tasted a little like beer. Sam placed his hands at Bo’s lower back and scooted him forward, aligning their erections.