Brad

While I was in jail, breakfast consisted of small servings and minimal selection, usually a choice of oranges, apples or bananas, with grits or oatmeal, and bread slices with jelly or butter, and milk. Having such a spartan breakfast daily, while in some ways could be seen as healthy, was not quite enough food, especially with the amount of working out I was doing. None of the meals really ever felt like enough. Since getting out of jail, I've endeavored to make my meals both nutritious and plentiful. And so far, I've kept all the food-related promises I made to myself while locked up: 1. No more grits ever again. 2. Pancakes can be a regular part of a healthy, balanced diet. 3. No skimping on the bacon.

I’m used to waking up early too. I was fully awake just a few hours after the middle-of-the-night bathroom break, or as I like to call it, the need to clean the love juices off my hand hallway meet-up.

When we went to our separate rooms last night, it wasn’t long before I started hearing some light moaning and maybe a few curse words from across the hall. Plus, her bed wasn’t the quietest in existence. The noises prompted my cock to stand to attention and beg for attention. Granted, I was lying in someone else’s bed in someone else’s home, where one should be cautious about unleashing one’s cock, out of respect. But, a quick mental review found no compelling reason to deny the urge, so I took myself in hand.

I finished before she did, it seemed, and rushed to the bathroom to clean my come from my hand, only to open the door and find her standing there – a pleasant surprise indeed. She wasn’t shy about staring at me, seeming to catalogue every part of my body, starting with my cock. To hold off my caveman-like instinct to club her and drag her back to my cave, I stood there and let her eyes roam.

I won’t lie; my cock had been more than willing to go a round – or several – with her. It's not like my dipstick has checked anyone else's oil since before I was put in jail. And I’m incredibly attracted to her. But I remained respectful, at least, as respectful as I could after just blowing a load in her guest room.

So, I stuck around this morning, hoping she didn’t mind. I even slipped out of the house and ran to the corner store and came back with a bagful of breakfast supplies, since she had few.

Dressed only in my jeans from last night and a frilly apron I found hanging on a hook in her pantry, I stand at her stove cooking the bacon and flipping pancakes. I hear a creak come from the stairs but keep my eyes forward. The atmosphere in the room changes as she enters the kitchen. She doesn’t make much sound, but I can track her somehow. It’s not until she’s beside me that she speaks.

“Smells delicious,” she murmurs while taking a deep breath. “You didn’t need to cook breakfast.”

“It’s my pleasure, the least I can do in gratitude for not kicking my ass out onto the sidewalk in the middle of the night.”

“Well, I’m not that horrible of a person.” She crosses her arms over her chest, which pushes her cleavage up, creating the perfect mounds of flesh peeking over her tank top.

“Nope, definitely not,” I reply, as I place a pancake on a plate. “I hope you don’t mind, but I had to go through your kitchen drawers to find things.”

“As long as you didn’t go in my junk drawer, I think it’s safe to say that I won’t have to murder you.”

“That was the first drawer I opened. Condoms, lube and bubble gum? Random amounts of things in there.” I wink.

“You never know when a situation will present itself for a bubble blowing competition,” she quips without hesitation, ignoring my comment about the condoms and lube.

I laugh and hand her a plate with pancakes and bacon, along with a fork and knife rolled in a napkin. Habit, I guess.

“Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a home-cooked breakfast, especially by a man in my princess apron.”

I stack my plate and join her at the dinette table.

“I’ve started really enjoying cooking. I was never a professed chef before, I usually dined out a lot. But in jail the food really sucked, so I made that one thing that I would completely change.”

“And how has that been going for you? The acclimation back into society and the food? Not going back on old habits?”

“You trying to counsel me, nurse?” I quirk my eyebrow

She blushes and hides her face against her shoulder, letting her dark hair cover half of her face. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m a dick. Ignore me.”

“It’s okay. The food part has been easy. I’ll still eat like crap sometimes, case in point, cereal for dinner. But overall, cooking has become a hobby.”

“Food is good. These pancakes are phenomenal.”

“Thanks. The acclimation was something I was warned about, but I honestly had no major issues. I tidied up everything before getting locked up, so my finances were all right when I came out. The main things now are keeping my shit straight and abiding by the rules of my parole and finding employment. So far, I think I’ve done a decent job.” I shovel a large bite in my mouth just as the front door opens.

“Shit! Speaking of. I forgot to tell you, Reed… he lives next door,” she whispers.

“Fuck. This could be awkward.”

“No, don’t worry. It’s not a big deal,” she promises as my parole officer – her brother – walks into the kitchen.

“Smells fucking good in— here.” He halts when he sees me with my fork frozen in the air halfway to my mouth.

“Hey, man,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Hey, Brad. Fancy seeing you here… shirtless… in my sister’s kitchen… early in the morning.” Reed turns to Mika and gives her a questioning look.

“Did you know that Brad lives close by?” she asks.

“Yup.” He nods.

“We ran into another last night at the corner store, so he walked me home and I invited him in.”

“Last night?” Reed confirms, looking back and forth between us.

“We passed out watching Thor numero dos, and he crashed in the spare room.” Her demeanor is more annoyed at her brother’s questions, like a child being interrogated by a parent, rather than fielding questions from a sibling. Her brother is likely judging the situation.

“Mika, can we talk real quick?” Reed thumbs over his shoulder toward the room he just appeared from and she follows, looking back at me apologetically.

I crane my neck to listen to their conversation. Luckily, they aren’t whispering.

“Sup, big bro?” she says.

“What’s he doing here, really?” Reed asks.

“Just two adults, enjoying breakfast together.”

“Where’s his shirt?”

I stop myself from laughing.

“He didn’t put it on when he came out of the room he slept in?” she conjectures.

“Does he know about—?”

“No. He’s at his father’s this week.”

Who?

“Make sure you tell Brad about Jare? I don’t want any unexpected heartbreak.”

Does she have a kid?

“Reed, we’re just friends.”

“Sure, you are,” he says, retreating to the kitchen where I do everything in my power to keep it from being obvious that I was eavesdropping on their conversation. I start by sticking food in my mouth.

“So, breakfast? Is there more?” Reed’s body language changes from protective to friendly.

“Check the oven. I placed the leftovers in there to keep them warm,” I inform him around a mouthful of pancake.

I look over to Mika and she shrugs as Reed comes and sits down beside her.

With a large bite of pancake in his mouth, he waves his fork between us. “So, is this a thing?”

Mika’s face flushes and I’m silent, unsure of how she wants either of us to answer.

“We’re friends.” she says finally.

“Where’s your shirt, dude?”

“Reed!” She hits his bicep.

“What? Who in their right mind cooks bacon without a shirt?” He has a good point there.

“He’s wearing the princess apron,” she points out.

“Just an FYI, there’s a much manlier apron in the mudroom. You don’t want to be caught dead wearing that girlie monstrosity again. Luckily, it was me and not Mom or Dad.”

“Your parents just show up randomly too?” I ask.

“They have from time to time.”

“Dad would likely drill you question after question and then Mom would likely go one of two ways, but since you ooze heterosexual, she would likely flirt with you to make Dad jealous.”

“Got it. Wear the manly apron.” I laugh.

“Probably best with a shirt too. You make every other guy look like a chump,” Reed says, chewing on his bacon.

“Noted.”

“Are you done, idiot?” Mika rolls her eyes.

“Never. I’m going to tease you endlessly for hiding this secret from me.”

“I have no secret, you big oaf!”

Watching the two siblings argue is endearing. However, my wish that my family would even acknowledge me burns even deeper than it did before.

“Yeah, sure you don’t. Either of you.”

“Why’d you bring me into this argument? I provided the breakfast,” I pout.

“Shirtless, in my sister’s kitchen, after you obviously spent the night.” Reed laughs pointing his fork at me.

It appears he’s not at all pissed off about me being here, so that’s a bonus. I’m curious as to what he thinks the secret is though.

We didn’t do anything last night.

Well, not together.

Mika

I’m mortified right now.

Reed is being a typical big brother and picking on me in front of the guy that I like.

Wait, do I like him?

Lucky for me, he’s not making it a big deal that he’s Brad’s PO and he’s not outright being a dick. My brother is a good guy, and while he may seem scary, he’s truly the biggest teddy bear that I know.

“What secret do you think you know?”

“I saw the way you and Janet were on day one,” Reed says, pointing his fork at me.

“Day one?” Brad and I say in unison. Brad’s leaning his chin on his hand in interest. And I’m racking my brain I trying to figure out what Reed could mean. Going through the moments of the past month or so, I’m stumped until I think about it harder. Day one. Day one, meaning the first day Brad came into the office. Shit! Shit! Shit!

“Do you really want me to say this? In front of him?” Reed asks, gesturing his fork at Brad.

“Um.” I look at Brad, and he’s got a smile on his face as he looks between the both of us. He’s obviously entertained. “Let’s just drop it, can we?” I ask, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“Breakfast and a show. While this has been enlightening, to say the least, I have plans for the day.” Reed wipes his mouth and stands.

“And what, pray tell, brother, are you doing today?”

“I’m going sailing with a lovely lady. Thanks for the delicious breakfast, Brad. Care to walk me out?”

“Am I being arrested?” he jokes.

“Shut up, wiseass. Follow me out, will ya?” My brother and Brad leave the kitchen area and walk to the front door. I lean over and watch my brothers hand on Brad’s shoulder. They’re talking, but Reed seems to be doing most the talking. When my brother disappears, Brad returns to the kitchen. I act naturally while chewing the last piece of bacon on his plate as he sits down and catches me. He grabs the piece remaining in my hand and smiles.

“What was that about?” I question.

“Oh you know, standard big brother things.”

“Like?”

“You fuck with her, you fuck with me and I’m watching you sort of things.” He shrugs.

“Oh. Did he say anything else?”

“Nothing much other than he’ll see me next week.”

“Oh.” I’ve got nothing else to say.

“He also told me to treat you right,” he says casually.

“Okay.”

“Yeah, he didn’t seem to bothered by me being here.”

“Well, your case is pretty cut and dry, from what I understand. You’ll be done with your parole what, four months from now?”

“Are there any strict rules about fraternizing with clients?”

“Well, he cannot enter in a friendship or relationship with you during your supervision period as he cannot be overtly friendly or familiar. But afterwards, it doesn’t really matter as it would have nothing to do with his job anymore. This morning would be considered unavoidable contact because he didn’t know you were here when he walked in. What will likely need to happen is that if we continue to hang out, then he’ll need to report it to his superiors so it doesn’t reflect poorly on the agency, just in case.”

“You know so much about all this. What about his sister fraternizing with me? And does hanging out with me present a conflict regarding your work?”

“If you ever need a heart transplant or any sort of cardiac surgery, there might be a conflict of interest. If so, another nurse would tend to you, rather than me.”

“So, if that’s the case, we can hang out, yeah?”

“You want to hang out with me?” I ask with a hopeful smile.

“No matter how hard I tried to fight it, yes.”

Confused by his statement, I observe his features wondering what he could mean by that. Instead of wondering, I decide to be bold and ask.

“You really want to dive into this?” he asks.

“Well, it would help if you took off my princess apron.” So I can stare at your chest.

He grins like the Cheshire Cat, as if I said the second part out loud. Wait, did I?

“Yeah, you did.” He winks as he takes off the apron and lays it across the table. He then crosses his arms in front of him on the table and looks my way.

“Sorry, faulty filter.” I apologize, feeling embarrassed that my filter seems to be broken.

“I prefer complete honesty, which also ties into my… I guess you can call it my story.” He takes a sip of his orange juice. “I won’t go into all the dirty details; I’ll save that for another time.”

“You said you tried to fight it, fight wanting to hang out with me. Explain?” I bring him back around.

“My goals since getting out of jail are important to me. And none of my goals include a serious relationship. So, you’re kind of like a curveball because I didn’t see you coming, but I can’t help but to want to swing away. When I said I tried to fight it, I means that I wasn’t intentionally trying to pursue you or be around you. You magically showed up, starting with the first day I met your brother. It was day two of my new life, your day one of meeting me.” He takes another sip, his eyes focused on my face.

“Your goals, how are you doing on them?”

“Well, I’ve got one out of the way, and the others are works in progress. Can’t expect everything to happen overnight.”

“But obtainable?”

“Indeed.”

“Get a job?”

“That’s the first one.”

“And now, you’re totally cool with hanging out, even though your goals haven’t all been met?”

“I think it’s a good idea. Besides, why deny myself some perks of the free life when getting my life on track is my second goal. If us hanging out is something that can contribute to that, then fuck yes.” He smiles.

“So, we’re hanging out?”

“How about we just call it what it is?”

“And what’s that?”

“I think hanging out is far from what we’ll be doing. We’re not teenagers; we’re adults. We’re attracted to each other, correct me if I’m wrong. We can call it dating, call it fucking, call it seeing each other, let’s just not call it hanging out. There are all sorts of different way to describe it, we’ll just pick whatever we want to call it,” he says, standing up and coming towards me. He stops in front of me and makes room to stand between my legs as I look up at him from my chair.

“Oh yeah?” I feel my heart wanting to beat out of my chest. It’s not overly hot in here, but I feel like I’m in a sauna just from his nearness.

“Definitely.” His hand glides up my arm, the length of my neck and stops to cradle my jaw. His other hand mimics the motion on the other side of my face. He leans in, runs his nose along my right cheek and breathes me in. My heart beats faster and I feel like putty in his hands even though he hasn’t done anything yet.