“AW, COME ON, Mr. Sullivan. Just one game.”

I rummaged through one of the coolers near the fire pit and pulled out a couple of sodas, shaking the ice off them before handing one to Jackson. “Nope.”

Nathan crossed his arms and smirked at his classmates before facing me again. “It’s not like you’re gonna break a hip or something. Or are you that old?”

I narrowed my eyes at the little shit trying to taunt me and Jackson into a game of beach football. “You haven’t graduated yet, Nathan. I’d keep the smartass comments to yourself before I feel the need to pull some strings. You like Burger Barn, don’t you?”

Oohs and laughs rang out among his friends, and I had to admit, the image of Nathan flipping burgers made my lips twitch. Kid needed someone to knock him off his damn high horse.

“Tell you what,” Nathan said. “We’ll even go touch.”

My eyes shot over to Jackson, who was biting back a grin. Yeah, I’d bet these little fuckers wanted to touch.

“Or tackle works too, if you’re not worried about sand burns and breaking bones,” he continued.

I took Jackson’s soda before he could pop the top, and tossed them back in the cooler. “We kick off and I get to choose my team.”

“We usually flip a coin for—” Nathan stopped short when I crossed my arms. “Yeah, okay, fine.”

“Good.” He threw me the football, and I handed it to Jackson. “Care to be my quarterback?”

Jackson’s eyes dilated at my suggestive tone, and after a moment he gave a nod. “Love to.”

I picked out the guys I wanted for my team, making sure to pad it out so I wasn’t left with much to do. Not that I couldn’t play, but I hadn’t been much of a sports guy growing up. I did, however, have a secret weapon—Jackson. He’d wipe the beach with their asses singlehandedly, so I was feeling pretty confident, even if it had been a few years since he’d been on the field.

It was skins versus shirts, and the other team lost their shirts, since there was no way I’d be able to focus if Jackson took his off. And though I was pretty sure most of the guys playing didn’t bat for my team, I didn’t want them looking his way either. Might inspire a few ideas, and I’d hate to have to break someone’s face.

One of the skins kicked off, sending the football flying high in our direction. Jackson caught it with ease, and then, in an explosive burst of power and strength, he shot forward toward the opposing team, and I stopped what I was doing to watch. Damn, the way he dodged past each set of outstretched hands was nothing short of impressive, his long legs eating up the sand, and before I knew it, he’d crossed the line drawn in the sand that indicated the end zone.

“Touchdown shirts,” called our official referee, a boy I didn’t recognize who sported a cast on his right arm.

“Holy shit, how’s that fair?” Nathan cried out, his face a perfect picture of shock that had me snickering.

“You wanted us to play,” I said.

“Play, not demolish.”

“Guess you’d better step up your game, then. Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind and wish to forfeit?”

Nathan glared hard, stubborn thing, and then grumbled, “We’ll play.”

“You’re evil, you know that, right?” Jackson said from behind me, his hand landing on my shoulder as the other team huddled together to come up with a game plan.

“I do. I just wish we’d placed bets now.”

“Hmm. We still could…”

“Hey, genius—we’re on the same team.”

Jackson tossed the ball high up in the air and caught it with one hand. “Maybe just a little wager between us, then.”

That caught my attention. “Tell me more.”

“We can bet on the number of touchdowns. Whoever’s closest wins. And as for what they win, that can be left up to the victor.”

Now that sounded dangerous, which also meant it was something I needed to win. “Anything the winner wants?”

Jackson lifted his chin with an air of confidence that told me he wasn’t planning on losing. “Anything goes.”

The low chuckle that came out of me then sounded almost evil even to my ears, and I held out my hand. “Deal. Five-nothing, us.”

“You don’t think much of me, do you?” Jackson teased. “I say ten-nothing, us. Deal.” His shake was firm, and just before he let go, he squeezed my fingers, and that small action wasn’t lost on me. Then Jackson winked and went to take his place on defense so the other team could attempt to get past us.

Good luck, boys, I thought, as one of our guys kicked off. Nathan caught the ball and started to run toward us, but Jackson had him in his sights. Nathan dodged right, then left, attempting to fake him out, but Jackson didn’t take the bait. His hands came out to strike him in the arm, quick as a viper, and Nathan’s shoulders sagged in defeat as he came to a stop. On and on it went, Jackson a one-man team with the rest of us as backup as he took away every attempt the other team made to score.

“Touchdown! That’s five for shirts, less than nada for skins,” the ref said, as Jackson scored yet again.

“Dude, I’m ready for a fucking drink,” one of the skins muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. Nathan looked over at the rest of his team, out of breath and utterly defeated, and then tossed the ball at me. “All right, we’re out.”

“Out?” I repeated. “Already?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nathan rolled his eyes, and after putting their shirts back on, he and the losing team stalked off to where the rest of their classmates were hanging out around the fire pit.

“Good game,” Jackson called out after them, which was met with a grumble of “who invited that guy” and “fucking showoff.” Jackson turned to me with a huge grin on his face, and I laughed.

“You look awfully proud of yourself for beating a few pipsqueak high schoolers,” I said.

“It’s been years since I’ve done that.” He popped open the can of soda I handed him and guzzled half of it down before adding, “And you’re welcome.”

“I’d rather thank you for the hot show you put on. I think handling that ball so well might’ve converted a few of those guys.”

“Did I really just hear a compliment about my ball handling from you? Damn,” he said, and took another swig, clearly amused at my word choice.

Jesus, now all I could think about was the way those large hands of his could handle even more of me, including the erection threatening to tent my shorts. A hard-on was the last thing I needed out here with a bunch of high schoolers and staff, so I quickly wheeled around and headed up to one of the sand dunes to give us a bit of privacy—and to give my dick a chance to down, boy.

As I toed off my shoes, Jackson did the same, and then he sat down next to me and dug his feet deep into the soft white sand. I chanced a look at him, and my cock shifted at the drop of sweat that had fallen down to his jaw. It lingered there, on the precipice, for a moment, and then began a slow slide down the length of his neck. I wet my bottom lip, wanting to lean over and lick the drop away. He’d taste salty on my tongue, and it would only ignite the hunger stirring in the pit of my stomach.

Forcing my eyes away, I took a deep lungful of air and focused on the small waves lapping at the shore. Having Jackson so close made it hard to get my body under control. I needed to remind myself that he wasn’t some no-name I wouldn’t remember tomorrow. He wasn’t a fling. He was fatal. The damage he could do to me if I let him would be irreparable, so I didn’t need to think about the way he looked at me, with some misguided sense of hope, and I sure as fuck didn’t need to think about the muscular thighs he was currently stretching out beside me.

Goddammit, his body was a work of art, and I knew exactly what I’d do with it if he let me. Correction—if I let myself. Which I won’t, I thought, as my gaze locked on the substantial bulge behind his jeans. Really.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” Jackson asked out of the blue.

“Leaving…South Haven, you mean? No.”

“Really? Not even when…”

“Gram died?” I filled in. “You’d think so. I’ve traveled, but nowhere feels like home. Well, I guess Washington does a bit, but I don’t have the memories there that I do here. And we sold my parents’ house, so…nowhere I’d rather go.”

Jackson nodded. “I always liked it here. Being near a beach, the small-town feel. I can see why you’d stay.”

Why didn’t you? I wanted to ask, but the answer to that was redundant.

Jackson knew it too because he cleared his throat. “Back in Connecticut, the winters are brutal. Sixteen inches in twenty-four hours last year. I would’ve prayed for a beach day then.”

“Damn. I’m not usually one to complain about inches, but—” Jackson pushed me over before I could finish, and I let out a loud bark of laughter.

“You’d complain when your balls shriveled up and fell off from hypofuckingthermia.”

“Nah, I’d just find a hot body to make sure that didn’t happen,” I said before I could stop the words from coming out, and then I wanted to kick my own ass. For fuck’s sake, Sullivan, shut the hell up and don’t talk about all the guys you’d fuck—including the one you can’t. “I’ve never, uh, seen that much snow.”

“You’ll have to come visit. I’ll take you tubing at Powder Ridge.” He was keeping the conversation light, not acknowledging my foot-in-mouth disease, and not delving into anything either of us would object to. It was enough to distract my body from noticing his…for the moment.

I mimicked his pose and kicked my legs out, crossing them at the ankles. I’d worn shorts, and more than half my legs were covered in sand. “You’d just like to kick my ass in a snowball fight.”

“Damn right I’d love to do that. And you’d deserve it.”

“No one would say I didn’t.” A roar of laughter from over by the fire pit sounded, and I looked over to see a new addition to the crowd. “See that kid over there?” I pointed at a tall, dark-skinned mountain of muscle laughing with a couple of guys as they stood in front of the fire roasting marshmallows.

“Kid?” Jackson shook his head. “I don’t see a kid; I see a behemoth.”

I chuckled. “Now you know why I called him a mini you. Fucking arms as big as the Hulk.”

“Ah. So he’s the football star-slash-secret artist.”

“That’s the one. Justin. His father played for the Falcons, so that kid’s primed for the NFL.”

“And that would be a bad thing?”

“A good ass in tight pants is never a bad thing.”

“Of course,” Jackson said, his mouth curving up on one side. “Where was he earlier when the other team needed him?”

“Told you. Parental challenges.”

“Huh.” Jackson fell silent as we watched them sandwich their marshmallows between chocolate and graham crackers. “Has he ever talked to you about it? Having to choose between sports or art?”

“Like that matters with you richies. You don’t get to choose, remember?”

“Us richies?” Jackson said, raising a brow. “Not including yourself in that statement, even though your gram owned one of the biggest houses on the island, which is now yours…” He took a swig of his drink. “Huh. Makes sense.”

“My parents weren’t rich. Dad left South Haven to make it on his own terms, and that’s only ’cause Gram didn’t try to control his life. Unlike you richies.”

“Trying to insult me?”

“It’s a statement of fact. My own observation. If you take offense, then that means you have your own issues with it.”

Jackson put down his soda and faced me. “Can we not talk about the shit that pisses us off?”

“Because that would be a little too much realism for you, huh, Jax?”

He tensed. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? Everyone else did.”

“I don’t like it.”

“But—”

“Not. You.” He practically growled those two words, and I had to admit, his take-no-shit tone had my cock taking notice once again. Just perfect.

“Fine. Jackson,” I said, trying not to notice how his shoulders relaxed a little at that.

“Lucas…” He stared out at the ocean. “I don’t wanna fight with you.”

“Yeah.” I don’t want to fight with you, either. Unless it’s in bed. Ah, hell, Sullivan, come on.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“Uh…” Surely my brain-to-mouth function hadn’t short-circuited on me now. “Fuck. I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Jackson let out a surprised laugh and nodded.

“Not like the semi I’ve been sporting since you came around doesn’t tip me off.”

“Feel free to do that more,” Jackson said, and my eyes went wide. “I mean say what’s on your mind.” He laughed. “It’d be nice to know what you’re thinking.”

“I tell you.”

“The censored version. You used to tell me everything. Even the in bed thoughts.” He gave me a playful nudge.

“That wouldn’t do either of us any good. Trust me.”

“I do trust you.” Four simple words, said with complete and utter sincerity, and not one part of me doubted them to be the truth. It made me wonder…why me? This beautiful, strait-laced boy could’ve had anyone, and yet he’d gravitated toward the loner, the new kid who’d just lost his family. He’d befriended me, no questions asked, and then he’d made me fall in love with him.

Even sitting here now, it felt like no time at all had passed, like we’d just snuck out of the academy for a few beers at the beach. Back then, Jackson hadn’t even seen it coming. He thought I was just his best friend, someone he could confide in and spend time with, and I let him believe that for a while. For me, I’d known the first second I saw him that I would never have merely a friendship with Jackson Davenport. It was a knowledge that weighed heavily, until one day when I couldn’t take it anymore. It had been Gram’s birthday and I was determined to show up with the gift I’d made. After failing to stop me from sneaking out, Jackson followed me into the woods that separated Gram’s house and the academy, and it was his constantly voiced worry over getting caught that flipped the switch. That was when I’d had enough of holding back with him.

Without warning, I’d pushed Jackson up against a tree and had my lips on his before he could protest. And then I had the shock of my life when he kissed me back. I thought he’d push me away, hit me, tell me we couldn’t be friends anymore. Instead, the next night he kissed me again, on the beach not far from where we sat now. Hidden by one of the sand dunes, Jackson had been the one to initiate things that night, and we’d gone a helluva lot further than just kissing.

My dick swelled as I remembered the first time he touched me, the way his hands shook as they unzipped my pants, but his eyes had remained steady and sure on mine. Christ, calm the fuck down.

“Do you remember?” Jackson said softly, his gaze locked on the same spot mine was, as if he were reliving the memory too.

“Yes.”

“That…was a good night.”

Every night with you was a good night. Every fucking day, too.

“It was. Lucas…I—”

An explosion of light burst into the sky overhead suddenly, startling the shit out of us, and we looked up to see fireworks shooting off from the academy’s campus to celebrate the end of term. Boisterous laughter and voices carried over from the bonfire as the night lit up in streaks of every color.

Jackson gave me a small smile as he lay back onto the sand to watch, and I did the same, similarly grateful and annoyed for the interruption in conversation. What had he been about to say?

I half watched the pyrotechnics above us, half watched Jackson, wondering how in the span of hours he could have me reverting to the Lucas whose entire life had revolved around him. If his father hadn’t intervened, would that still be who I was? Would I still be a happily lovesick fool over him, or would one of us have gotten tired of the other and wanted to play the field? Maybe it was a good thing he’d left when he did if I would’ve gotten heart-smashed either way. Or maybe I’d just grown cynical and jaded in our time apart.

God, there’d been so many guys. More than I could fucking count, and right now I couldn’t remember a good damn one of them. But I could remember the exact sounds Jackson had made when I’d kissed him in the woods, and I could still see the mussed-up sex hair he’d sported as he left my dorm the last time I saw him. That had been the memory ingrained behind my eyes every night I fell asleep…until he’d shown up at Argos.

Loud whoops and claps sounded as the fireworks came to an end in a stunning display of color, capturing my attention again, and when they were over, Jackson blurted out, “I miss you.” Jerking my head in his direction, I saw him swallow, his eyes still firmly locked on the dissipating smoke overhead. “I miss my best friend.”

And just like that, I knew. I would’ve gone to the ends of the earth for that man, and the scariest thing about that realization was the fear that I still would.

“I always felt so damn alone, and then I met you and I wasn’t anymore. It was like you were always supposed to be there. Like I’d always known you. And when that was taken away from me…” Jackson let out a heavy exhale. “I don’t have anyone. Not to talk to, not to go play touch football with on a beach. I work. And I have what would be considered friends, people I see at work functions, but they don’t know anything about me, not really. It’s like… God, it’s like I don’t feel right in my skin. You know? I don’t feel like me. Does that even make sense?” He let out another sigh, and his hand came up to where his eyes were shut. “It doesn’t make any sense. And I don’t know why I’m saying all this, and you probably don’t care, but I just… It meant something to me. Our friendship. You in my life. It meant everything. And I miss you every goddamn day, Lucas.”

I couldn’t breathe as a hot sting of tears pricked my eyes and my chest grew heavy. Without a word, I reached for his hand, needing to reassure him I’d felt the same but unable to find any words—a fucking rarity if there ever was one. I laced my fingers through his and had the fleeting thought that mine were rough and callused, but if that bothered him, he didn’t show it. His strong hand squeezed mine, answering what I couldn’t say.

We lay there in comfortable silence, still linked as the clouds passed and the stars came out to play. Eventually, I broke the ice, pointing out my favorite constellation, Ursa Major, and then telling the story behind a few others when Jackson admitted he wasn’t familiar with them. He asked about my sculptures, how I’d built up my metalworking business, and there was a genuine curiosity behind his questions. He seemed to have developed an appreciation for art, something I could’ve guessed by the piece still sitting in my shop. Then I told him how I’d found his address—stealing our teacher’s gradebook—and that made him laugh.

We shared stories of the things we’d done that filled in some of the gaps from our time apart—minus the obvious man-whoring on my part—and since talking about his job or family life were sticking points, and therefore off-limits, Jackson chatted instead about the places he’d visited. He’d been all over North America, across Europe and to Asia, seemingly on his own. He told me about visiting the Louvre in Paris, eating sushi in Japan, hiking up the Great Wall, and I felt a sting of jealousy that I hadn’t been there to experience those firsts with him.

And while his travels sounded amazing, I got the feeling there was something else Jackson wasn’t telling me. I could sense a weight on his shoulders, and whatever the cause was, he wasn’t saying. I didn’t want to push for that information, not now, and especially not when it might be something I didn’t want to hear. I was content for the first time in a long time just to be there, lying with him under the same sky with the summer breeze blowing and the sound of the waves falling—even if that peaceful interlude was a short-lived illusion. No matter the feelings he stirred up, the fact was Jackson would leave again soon, but at least this time I knew it was coming.

Jackson’s thumb brushed across my skin where we were still connected. “Don’t you care if anyone sees you?”

“Sees me do what?”

“You know. Be here. With a guy.”

For some reason, that made me chuckle. It was easy to forget how almost innocent Jackson was when he looked the way he did. How he came from a completely different world than I did, and how he probably hadn’t been around anyone comfortable with their sexuality in years.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not a secret,” I said. “I’ve seen some of those kids sneak into the clubs, and if they’ve done that, they know enough about me. Word gets around, remember?”

“Oh, I remember. But they don’t seem to care.”

I knew what he was thinking. Back when we were in school, it seemed like every last one of them were judgmental pricks, and at least one of them had tipped off Jackson’s father, unless it was a teacher. “Things are different now. I’m sure there are still a few assholes in the bunch who fuck with their peers, but what are they gonna say to me?”

“‘Mr. Sullivan’s a homo’?”

Snorting, I shook my head. “I’d drown them in the ocean first. Or maybe throw ’em in the fire with the fuckin’ marshmallows.”

Jackson looked over at me and smiled. “You’ve never cared what anyone thought of you. I’ve always admired that.”

“That’s not true. I cared what Gram thought.” I had to force the next words out. “And you.”

Though that didn’t seem to surprise him, Jackson stayed quiet for a while, like he was debating with himself. And then he asked, “Why me?”

The same damn question I’d asked myself in regard to him, only this time words carried a weight to them, because he wasn’t just asking me why I’d respected what he thought about me. He was asking a hell of a lot more than that, and I held back all the reasons he wanted me to say. That he was the only one back then who hadn’t judged me, the sad new kid with a chip on his shoulder. Who’d seen the real me and had cared enough to. How to tell him that he’d felt like home since the first time I’d sat next to him in biochem and he’d smiled at me, and when he’d offered me a seat at his lunch table later that day, he’d inadvertently offered me so much more than that.

But I didn’t say any of those things, because if I did, he’d see right through me and realize I’d never gotten over him. And that was a truth I wasn’t ready to face until he left again. So I said, “I don’t know,” and tried not to notice when his smile wavered at my non-answer.

Jackson’s gaze flitted away, over to where the fire had long been snuffed out, and he sat up. “Shit, what time is it?”

“Late.”

“I didn’t even know they’d all left,” Jackson said, getting to his feet and wiping the sand off his jeans.

Sure enough, the part of the beach that had been packed with students what felt like only minutes ago was now empty, which meant they’d had to go back to the academy for mandatory curfew. It also meant several hours had passed as Jackson and I tuned out the world.

I stood and looked up and down the beach, and when I didn’t spot another living soul, I said, “Need to go, or up for something else?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking a midnight swim would be nice.”

“A swim, huh?” Jackson looked down at his clothes and then back up at me.

“You can wear those. Or nothing at all…” I shrugged and began to walk backward to the ocean.

“What are you doing, Lucas?”

“Gotta get the sand off.”

“Bullshit.” Jackson’s hands were low on his hips as he watched me undo the top button on my shirt. I could’ve easily whipped it over my head in one go, but I happened to like Jackson’s eyes on me, and since teasing him had been one of my favorite pastimes, I took my time. With each button I undid, his stare grew heated.

“You gonna join me or keep staring?”

“Keep staring.”

I laughed as I finished off the buttons and let the shirt fall down my arms, dropping to the sand. Then I flicked open the button of my shorts. “Don’t be a chickenshit, Davenport.”

“Peer pressure. Exactly what you tell those kids not to fall for.”

And aren’t those the magic words…

“Oh, come on, Jackson,” I dared, unzipping my shorts and shoving them down my hips. “Fall for me.”