On Friday, Ty and I meet after work with some of the members of our flag football team to play a quick game of basketball before I take Ty to the airport. When we finish, I give him a hard time about missing a few passes.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ty says as he pulls his shirt off and wipes it across his brow as we approach the water fountain alongside the gym wall. “You were a fucking machine out there.”

I lean down, press my finger against the button on the fountain, and get a drink of water. After I’ve quenched my thirst, I lean back and Ty ducks down, getting some water for himself before taking a deep breath and saying, “We should go out for drinks soon. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

I start through the court toward the showers. “I’ve been texting you the past few weeks to see if you want to do shit.”

Although, admittedly, his being busy with work has only given me more opportunities to spend time with Eric.

“I know. It’s my fault,” Ty says. “Work is hectic right now. I’ll feel better once I get back from Chicago. Then we’re going to have a night out…just us, like the good old days.”

I grin as I think about how much I want to spend some more time with him. “I’d like that.”

I catch his expression. I can tell he would like that too, and his sincerity and the seeming obliviousness to what I’m doing with Eric forces guilt to rise up within me.

Ty adds, “I wish we had some time to hang before I leave, but we’ll have time once I get back. I just feel like it’s been forever, you know?”

“I really do,” I say, pleased that he cares enough to even say that, but also feeling like an ass for already having plans with my parents…not to mention the other reasons I have to feel guilty.

“Speaking of leaving, thank you for giving me a ride to the airport,” he says.

“I’ve changed my mind. Catch a bus, scrub.”

He laughs before shoving me playfully with his shoulder.

“Thanks, asshole,” he says, still chuckling a little from my joke.

We hit the showers, and I change into a fresh pair of clothes before driving Ty to the airport and then heading to my parents’ place.

* * *

“I’m home,” I announce as I enter the kitchen.

Stan stands at the stove. He turns to me, a bright smile spreading across his face. “Hey, Jesse.” He approaches me and offers a warm hug.

“Took you long enough to come and see us.” Charlotte steps through the dining room entryway. She hurries to join in on our hug.

“That’s right, it’s definitely about time,” Stan adds. “I know you have a new job and all, but you have to make time for family.”

“It’s been maybe a week,” I say.

“Longer than it used to be,” Charlotte notes.

Truthfully, I haven’t been around as frequently as I usually am, and a lot of that has to do with spending time with Eric.

As they pull away, Stan gets back to making dinner.

We catch up, me telling them a little more about my new job, my coworkers, and my supervisors. I notice how I have to keep off what’s really become the most important subject for me—Eric.

It’s strange. I’ve always been comfortable sharing things with them because they’ve always made me feel safe and accepted. But as much as I would like to share this with them, especially as things intensify with Eric, I know our relationship hasn’t reached that place yet.

We’re getting close, though, and the more time we spend together—even in the closed quarters of his condo—the more I come to appreciate the man Eric is.

But I don’t want to sit around his condo. I want to take him on a date. A real date.

I’m not ashamed of him or what we’re doing. Although, I know even wanting that doesn’t make our lives any easier, especially considering his situation with Ty.

When I finish having dinner with Charlotte and Stan, I head out, not driving to my place, but to Eric’s.

* * *

What’s started off as a few nights a week has become more and more frequent. Even when I don’t go to his place, I find myself wanting to call him or check in on him for the night. It’s a little obsessive, a little possessive…and I’m not ashamed of being that way.

I feel like I’ve been gradually pushing through his barriers.

In the beginning, we would just fuck, but that turned into dinner and then messing around some more. Eventually, that turned into chilling, hanging out, having a beer or a glass of wine while we work on a jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table in his living room.

The one we’re working on now is a landscape photo of a lake and a log cabin. We’ve finished the edges. As we work our way toward the middle, Eric struggles to find a spot for a piece. I inspect the edges, and a realization hits me. I hold my hand out.

“Really? You know where this one goes?” he asks, eyeing me skeptically.

I wave for him to hand it to me, and when he does, I set it in a spot it fits perfectly within.

I didn’t know for sure it would fit, but it worked out in my favor that it did. Eric looks impressed, and it’s my favorite look on him.

“I told you I’m not too bad at these things.”

“Maybe I should have gotten children’s ones for me, so at least I could practice. You and your parents do these a lot?” he asks.

“All the time. We actually would just have an ongoing puzzle, so even if one of us wasn’t home, the other could come around and work on it. Eventually after a week, we’d finish one, and then we’d have to get another.”

I have tons of these I haven’t done before. Charlotte and Stan give me these things as gifts because I enjoy doing them.

“It’s obviously not the most ideal date, you have to admit,” Eric says.

I can see the disappointment in his expression, and I wonder if it’s his own disappointment for himself, or for me.

“I’d say I’m having a pretty great date.” I lift my glass of Chardonnay off the table. “Here I am working on a jigsaw puzzle, with a sexy man I plan on fucking around with as soon as he becomes so annoyed with this puzzle that he can’t stand to do anything but ravage my body. And getting a little tipsy in the process. I would say that’s a pretty good night, wouldn’t you?”

“Are you about ready for me to ravage your body?” he asks, a mischievous expression on his face.

“I think we can fill out a few more pieces. I don’t know that you’re at that particular level of annoyance I need you to be at so you can take me and bang the shit out of me.”

He takes a sip of his own wine, then sets the glass down on the coffee table, beside the puzzle. “Then I better work hard to get annoyed a little faster.”

I feel like an idiot, because it’s the silliest thing for me to be grinning at, but I can’t help myself. Eric gets me giddy and excited in a way no one else really can or ever has. Sure, I’d have fun with Whitney all the time, but it wasn’t like this. Eric might not find this to be particularly fun or the best date in the world, but there’s an intimate connection we formed, in even these most simple of moments, a connection I cherish.

“Tell me,” he says, “what would be your ideal date if we didn’t do this tonight?”

“Ideal date?” I pretend to muse on the thought longer than I really need to, because I’ve already been considering it, more and more frequently actually.

“I think my ideal date would be going out on a nice long walk—a hike maybe, during the day, in the woods. Maybe a romantic picnic, and then we’d stay out late, wait for the stars, and look at them. Start a fire, grill some food.”

“That doesn’t sound like a date as much as it sounds like camping.”

“Well, I’d want my date to be camping, then,” I confess.

There’s a seriousness in his expression, as though he’s once again recognizing the limitations we’ve placed on ourselves.

“There’s no reason we couldn’t go camping somewhere,” he says. “It’s almost April, and the weather’s nice. What if we went up to North Carolina and had a little camping outing?”

“Do you have camping gear?” I ask.

“Of course I have camping gear. My crew and I typically do camping retreats every once in a while. I can get everything together, and then we can head up tomorrow if you want.”

He looks almost nervous, like he’s expecting me to say no.

“We should,” I say quickly, wanting to ease any uncertainty he might have had about my answer.

“Really?”

“Why are you surprised? I come up to your condo at least every other night because I want to see you. You don’t think I want to go out in the world and do something with you? I would really enjoy that, Eric.”

“I would enjoy that too,” he says. “A lot. More than you could know.”

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, of course it is. Why?”

He says it’s fine, but his expression seems uneasy.

“You’re acting kind of weird. Are you worried about Ty finding out? We don’t have to do anything in public.”

“That’s hardly in public,” Eric insists. “I don’t think we’re going to get caught taking a drive up to North Carolina. We are getting to the point where it’s probably about time we do tell him.” He looks around at the floor for a moment before his gaze meets mine.

“I think you’re right,” I reply.

He gulps. “It’s not gonna be fucking easy.”

“I’ve considered that, but I think we definitely need to talk to him, and probably sooner rather than later. I really like you, Eric, and I don’t think this is gonna get any easier the more we do this.”

“Yeah, I’m figuring that out too.”

“I think we should probably tell him when he gets back from Chicago,” I say.

Eric smiles, and there’s something so reassuring about his expression, something disarming about it. Knowing we’re on the same page makes me feel comforted.

He crawls around the table, and I turn to him as he keeps moving toward me.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“I’m about to ravage you,” he warns before he presses his lips against mine.

He shoves me back down against the carpet, straddling my waist. I grab hold of his ass cheeks, squeezing tightly. I’ve noticed he allows me more liberties back there than he did in the beginning. There’s not any discomfort when I do it. He kisses me harder.

I would love to do so much more back there, but I’m not gonna push. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable…ever. I’ve let him move at his own pace. I don’t push for a hug or anything more affectionate, even when I want to. And the more I’ve stayed over, the more I can tell he’s willing to put his arms around me...that it’s almost like he can’t help himself.

“You like my ass, don’t you?” he asks as he pulls his lips away from mine.

“I love your fucking ass.”

He studies my expression. I’m not sure what he’s trying to figure out, but then he says, “Well, maybe you’ll get lucky this weekend.”

My dick goes hard as a fucking rock.

“Oh really?” I ask. Once again, I can’t stifle my grin.

“Not tonight, though,” he says, shaking his head. “Tonight, this ass is mine.”

“Yes, it is.”

He seizes my wrists and pulls them back over my head, pinning me down. His lips slam down against mine.

As much as I enjoy the fantasy of topping him, I certainly don’t mind bottoming either.