“I’m just not gay enough,” I concluded. “Or cool enough. Maybe I can be cooler if I’m more gay.” If I had the confidence to roll with it like Rusty no doubt would—rather than shrink under their attention.
“You,” Rusty informed me, kissing my cheek, “are gay enough already, baby. I don’t care if you’ve sucked a thousand dicks or zero. If you’re gay, you’re gay. And I bet, if you got out of your own head, you’d feel cool, too.”
“I hope you’re right,” I sighed. But my spirits were a little bit lighter already, just hearing this man reassure me that I was exactly who I wanted to be already.
Maybe I just needed to find that cool gay guy who already lived inside me, buried under a lifetime of waiting for later.
Maybe later was right now.
Rusty beamed at me. “I know I’m right. In fact, I have an idea.”
“Mmm?” I finished my drink and steered us to the side to put aside my cup, and Rusty mirrored me. When he had two free hands he pushed me straight back to the center of the room.
Damnit, he’d seen my ploy.
“You need arm candy. I’m free this weekend. You need a gay fairy godmother. I’ll come with you.” Rusty shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Oh, my God. Don’t squeal, I told myself, but my mile-wide grin was impossible to hide.
The relief flooded my body with oxygen—but it wasn’t just that. I was excited, too. I hadn’t known how to handle this, but Rusty had taken charge without even batting an eye.
Dating was sure different between men. Was that sexist? It was true for me, though. Maybe it was more about the time we lived in.
Back when we got together, Chrissy and I had always been equal partners. The lawyers had been surprised that we wanted her name first on the house deed, and she hadn’t even changed her name.
Things were different now, thank God. Even a couple of decades later, the world had changed.
“Well, it’s easier to ask you out when you ask yourself out,” I teased, my cheeks burning. Rusty grabbed my hands and put them on his hips, and I grinned and slid one around to his back to dance a little bit closer.
Rusty beamed back at me. “I’m tired of waiting for you to ask,” he teased me and pretended to flip his hair. “A modern man can do the asking, you know.”
“In that case,” I murmured, steeling every bit of courage I had in my terrified Dad bod, “I only want to ask you one thing.”
“Fire away,” Rusty murmured. He rested his wrists loosely on my shoulders, swaying to the beat.
Watching him was utterly hypnotic, and it made something unlock in my core. My hips could move at last. My whole body could. Not like he could, but not the stiff, terrified board I usually was.
Come on. Act your age, I told myself. I wasn’t the scared teenager who had given in to a bet.
I was a grown man, and I wanted Rusty. And if I wasn’t mistaken, he wanted me, too. For how long remained to be seen, but I wasn’t going to worry about that yet. Cart before the horse and all that.
This is where he turns you down, my fears whispered. Where you find out that you’re too old for him. That he just sees you as a gay friend. Oh, God. What was I thinking?
But Rusty’s expectant, patient gaze held kindness. And a bit of excitement, too. Like he knew what I was thinking.
So I blurted it out. “Can I kiss you?”
A whoosh of air left Rusty’s body as he sagged against me—into me. “Please,” he moaned back.
That wasn’t sarcasm. He wasn’t disappointed. Holy crap, he was impatient! My heart soaring, I grinned and grabbed his hips, suddenly feeling like I was on firmer ground.
And then I did it.
I kissed him.
Our lips met slowly, with a smooth warmth I’d expected. Sparks prickled their way through my body though, like liquid lightning pumping through my veins. My breathing was hoarse and my pants grew tight.
One kiss was enough to tell that I wanted Rusty.
That was new. It wasn’t the familiar, soft comfort I’d once thought kissing should be—tame, safe, easy. It was a wildfire that rushed through me, and suddenly I understood why people did all the stupid shit in the world to chase desire.
“You all right?” Rusty whispered when he pulled back, his lips wet and parted against mine. His eyes were still hooded as he peeked at me from under his lashes. Christ, he was ridiculously good-looking.
“I—I’m good,” I managed, my voice wobbling. “You?”
Rusty smiled at me, his eyes gradually opening. His cheeks were pink, and at last, he looked a little bit shy. Just enough to make me pull him closer and rub his back. “I liked that a lot,” Rusty told me. “Keep doing it.”
So I did, closing the gap between us for another kiss, this time lingering for long enough to truly explore.
My teeth found his lower lip and he whimpered softly, the vibrations coursing through me. His thigh slid between mine and one hand went to the small of my back, the other creeping down my back to join it.
Kissing him makes it all make sense, I thought. My thoughts were fuzzier than ever, my heart pulsing like it was releasing butterflies like a goddamned cartoon. Even so, this felt right in a way I’d never felt before.
Not just having a man kiss me, either. Yes, God only knew I loved the hard lines of a man’s body against me and the strength in Rusty’s hands. The stubble of his cheek against mine sent happy chills straight to my heart.
Rusty, though—something about him in particular drew me in. It was more than his confidence or the fact he flirted with me. It wasn’t his happy-go-lucky personality, or his hot body.
I had no words to explain the rightness of having this man tucked against me. If he’d asked, I would have just shrugged. I had no idea what it was that I needed so badly from him, but I wasn’t going to let him go now.
Luckily he seemed to think the same thing. Rusty’s hands wandered across my back and over my arms, even sliding over my ass as he gave me a cheeky grin.
I didn’t even have to pretend to gasp. My whole body throbbed with a delicious wave of desire. “Whoa,” I breathed out.
Rusty’s grin was wicked. He pressed close, rubbing his thigh against the hard line of my shaft as our bodies melded together.
Wait, what about the hard line I felt against my thigh? I’d somehow thought that was his phone in his pocket. My cheeks flushed as I realized otherwise, and my heart sang once more with its approval.
As Rusty pulled back, I whimpered softly and earned a chuckle, his lips closing around my earlobe for a moment before he let go of me and danced on his own once more.
Not for long, though. Every few minutes we found each other and kissed again—sometimes Rusty led the kiss, and sometimes me. We clung to each other like teens in a quiet corner of the mall.
Finally freed from all my self-doubt, I was plunging into this head-first and I didn’t know how to stop.
As the night flew by, joy poured into me. I was a balloon filled with intoxicating bliss, about to soar up into the sky. I moved more fluidly, I bounced on my toes, and I even twirled Rusty around between kisses.
If I stayed much longer, I’d be dragging ass at work tomorrow. But just as I was yawning, Rusty spun away from me, graceful as a ballet dancer.
He was catching all eyes, and before I knew it I moved toward him—even glared at one guy nearby who was looking him up and down, like I was staking my claim.