There was something surreal about launching into a mystery adventure I couldn’t share with anyone. School and football kept me pretty busy over the next week, but I found myself thinking about Mitch constantly. Not the questions he’d ask or how this might play out over the next month or so. I thought about him. The way he walked and talked and the way his eyes sparked mischievously when he smiled. And yeah, I thought about kissing him. A lot.

When my head wouldn’t stop spinning, I gave in and called him. At first, he gave me a hard time for not texting instead, but when I made up a story about my fingers cramping and possibly messing with my masturbation game, he laughed heartily. We talked every night after our respective classes, practices, or games. Sometimes he ran through some of his questions. It was a good way to ease into conversation.

“Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee.”

“How do you take your coffee? It’s not one of the official questions, but it’s something a boyfriend would know,” he explained.

“Black. How about you?”

“Same. Okay. Next…eggs or oatmeal? Donuts or cake? Corn or peas?”

“Eggs, both and corn. Peas are disgusting.”

“You can’t have both cake and donuts,” Mitch huffed. “You have to choose.”

“But it’s true. If I had a slice of chocolate cake and a glazed donut in front of me, I’d put ’em both on my plate.”

“And which would you eat first?”

“Whichever was closer.” I grinned when he laughed aloud. Then I asked, “What about you?”

“Oatmeal, cake, and corn. Peas are nasty.”

“The worst. My mom had a veggie rule when I was a kid. No dessert until all the vegetables on our plates were gone. I tried everything, man. I fed green beans to the dog, hid carrots under the throw rug when she wasn’t looking. I even stuffed brussels sprouts in my pockets once. Nothing gets by my mom, though. The dog barfed up the beans, Dad stepped on the carrots, and let’s just say she wasn’t too happy about the mushy sprouts in her laundry.”

Mitch chuckled. “I bet.”

“But peas. Ugh. I sat forever waiting to be rescued from a plate of peas a few times—for a cookie. Torture.”

“Poor Evan. Too bad you didn’t know me back then. Grams would have hooked you up. She had a pretty relaxed view on veggie intake. I was a weird kid, though. I ate whatever she put in front of me without argument. I’d do anything to avoid going home,” he said.

“Why? What was wrong with your folks?”

“They hated each other. They fought constantly. It was horrible. My strategy was to be as silent as possible, so they’d forget about me instead of using me as a weapon. I was a very quiet kid.”

“You seem to have come out of your shell. I’ve seen you dancing on tables with Chelsea,” I teased.

“That’s different—she’s my best friend. But you’re right…it took awhile, but I eventually found my voice. I have my grandmother to thank for that. She’s pretty open and outgoing. She didn’t mind that I was quiet, but she didn’t like the reasons. I moved in with her when I was thirteen and other than a short stint in the dorms, I haven’t left. It’s not because we’re family,” he said conversationally. “We’re a team. Can’t leave your teammates.”

“Hmm. You’re right.”

I’d switched topics before I was tempted to share more than either of us bargained for. Mitch went with the flow. He had a good sense of humor and an easygoing vibe I appreciated. I liked our conversations. They felt honest and real.

When we’d hung up last night, he’d hinted at a few surprise questions he’d come up with for our Thursday meeting. I thought about coming up with a few of my own as I made my way out of the locker room the Wednesday beforehand. I pulled my cell out, intending to forward a funny blog post about new couples quirks to Mitch just as my phone buzzed in my hand.

“Hi, Mom. I’m about to walk into my Home Ec class. Want me to call you back later?”

My mother guffawed heartily. “Home Ec, eh? I don’t want to keep you from learning how to boil water, dear. I just called to see how you are. How’s the knee holding up?”

“Good. I’m supposed to see the sports therapist tomorrow.”

“Will you be okay to play this Saturday?”

It was tempting to blow off her concern, but I’d given my parents cause to worry. Not recently, but some memories didn’t fade quickly. I pushed away the instant and unwelcome déjà vu before replying.

“Yes. I’m fine. Will you and Dad be there?”

“Of course.”

“Cool. I’ll see you after the game.” I moved up the stairs to my building but paused at the door when she didn’t reply. “Mom?”

“Evan, Graham’s dad passed away last week. His sister told me they’ll plan a memorial service in a month or so, but his mom is—well, she’s not doing well. Losing her son and now her husband…poor woman is heartbroken.”

I swallowed hard and fixated on a bronze statue across the quad.

“What do you want me to do?” I whispered.

“Honey, you don’t have to do anything. If you feel like sending a card, do it. If not, that’s okay too. He was a good man and he tried so hard to…be there for you, even though he was hurting. I just wanted you to know. That’s all. Are you okay?”

I blinked and nodded, though the gesture was lost on her. “Y-yeah.”

An strained silence fell between us.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset. I’m fine,” I insisted weakly as I made my way back down the stairs. I sat on the corner of a stone bench and covered my face with my free hand.

“Go do something that makes you happy. Right now. Just…go buy a bag of M&Ms or splurge on one of those horrible slushies you like or call someone who makes you smile. Please?”

“Yeah. I will and I’m…okay.”

“I love you, Ev,” she said fervently. “To the next galaxy and back. No matter what.”

I let out a half laugh and bit the inside of my cheek. “I love you too.”

I disconnected the call and took a deep breath. And then another. The sky was blue, the sun shining, but I could practically see the darkness coming for me. Any second now, the sickening twist of metal would ring in my ear. If I didn’t do something quickly, it would drag me under. I looked in the general direction of the football field but immediately dismissed the idea of another workout. The heat was oppressive today, and my muscles were already fatigued. I sucked in air like a drowning man and willed myself to relax. Think, Evan, think. I tapped my phone and Mitch’s contact info popped up. I pressed Send.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Evan?”

“Yeah. I was um…on my way to class and I found a blog you might be interested in. I forwarded the link to you. Did you see it?” I asked in a fast-paced manic tone.

Mitch didn’t answer right away. I stared at the black and white checks on my Vans sneakers. The pattern blurred and sharpened. Blurred and sharpened.

“Are you okay?”

“Mmm. I think so. Just talk to me for a minute.” Fuck, why didn’t I call Derek? He wouldn’t have required an explanation. Now I’d just made things weird with someone I really liked.

“Where are you?”

“School. I’m about to go to class. I’m late but…what about you? What are you doing?”

“I just got out of my history of film class. It’s my favorite. We watch old black and white movies and then critique them. Today it was Bringing Up Baby. Classic screwball comedy. Silly but fun. Have you seen it?”

His voice was melodic and soothing. My pulse was beginning to steady. Five minutes or less and I’d be good to go.

“No. Tell me about it,” I urged.

“Oookay, but…will you tell me what’s bothering you? Is it me? Are you having second thoughts about tomorrow? ’Cause—”

“Fuck, no.” I pursed my lips and sighed before continuing. “No. That’s not it. Not at all. I just called to tell you about the link I sent, but I should go. I’m sorry to bug you. I—”

“I thought you wanted to hear about the movie I just saw,” he intercepted playfully.

I clung to the humor in his tone with relief. “I do.”

“How much time do you have?”

“Five minutes.”

“All right. So the movie was released in 1938. It starred Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn and…”

I closed my eyes and let Mitch’s animated voice pull me from the proverbial wreckage with a colorful synopsis of a movie I was pretty sure I’d never see. Somehow the newness of our friendship made it easier to lean on him. If only for a little while.

Thankfully, I felt more like myself when class was over two hours later. My appetite returned in full force. I had a team dinner in Orange. I couldn’t remember who’d asked me for a ride to the restaurant, but I figured I’d stop by the field on the way to my truck and see if anyone was waiting for me before I took off. I rounded the tall hedge by the stadium and stopped in my tracks when I spotted Jonesie standing near the entrance with a pretty brunette.

“Evan!” he called, waving me over.

I smiled at the girl as I absently exchanged fist bumps with my teammate. “Hi, Nicole. How’s it going?”

“Good. I never thought I’d say this, but it’s nice to be back in school. Ask me if I still feel that way during midterms,” she said with a laugh.

“I know what you mean,” I agreed politely.

“I’m excited about the game this weekend. You know I’m having a party after, right?”

Jonesie slapped my back and grinned. “I told him all about it. Hey, man—I gotta grab something from my locker. I’ll meet you in the parking lot in a few minutes. See ya, Nicole.”

Damn it. There was nothing quite like an awkward setup. I smiled tightly as I dug my keys from my pocket. “Jonesie’s a smooth operator,” I snarked.

Nicole threw her head back and laughed. “He’s the worst. But his heart’s in the right place. He told me you stuck up for me last week.”

“Of course he did.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I appreciate it. He doesn’t mean half of the dumb things he says but…thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything really,” I insisted.

She touched my elbow when I started to turn. I noted her long pink fingernails and her tiny wrists. She had to be a full foot shorter than me, and everything about her was petite. Her long dark hair was piled high on her head in deference to the weather and I couldn’t help thinking that even her neck was small. “Come to the party, Ev.”

“Uh yeah. I can’t. I’ll need to get back to Long Beach and—”

“You’re welcome to stay the night. There’s plenty of room.”

Her delivery was neutral, as though she’d offer the same to anyone in need, but I heard the innuendo loud and clear.

“Thanks,” I said awkwardly. “I better go or they’re going to get to the food before me.”

“Ha. Go on. I’ll see you at the game, Evan.”

My phony grin faded the second I turned toward the field. Great. Just what I needed.

Was it my imagination, or had my life gotten ridiculously complicated in a very short time?

Mitch had been very specific about parking in the alley behind his garage, but I hadn’t bothered to check out any landmarks on my previous visit. And anyone with a phobia to dark, ill-lit spaces knew it was important to have a familiar signpost or two. So I parked in front of the house like I had before and ended up in the kitchen eating cookies with Maryanne again. Chocolate chip this time.

She regaled me with a brief history lesson of my adopted town, citing all the changes in Long Beach since she was a kid until Mitch arrived and told her we had some work to do.

“Work. Oh, is that what you kids are calling it nowadays?” Maryanne chuckled. “Go on, then. Have fun.”

I followed Mitch outside with a laugh. “What does she think we’re doing?”

He paused under the oak tree and gave me a funny look. “Having sex. What else?”

“Like real sex?”

“As opposed to fake sex?”

“You know what I mean. Geez, this feels weird,” I grumbled, raking my hand through my hair.

Mitch chuckled. “Grow up, Evan. If she thinks we’re in a relationship, she’ll assume we’re doing it.”

“Doing what exactly?”

“How should I know? Maybe she thinks I’m gonna blow you.”

“Are you?” I asked in a mock serious tone.

Mitch laughed and gave me one of his slow-moving mischievous grins. “If we can record some decent material in less than an hour, I just might.”

I stared after him as he bounded up the stairs, two at a time, and adjusted my dick. I knew he was joking, but the mere thought of him on his knees with his lips around my—oh, fuck.

Filming our inaugural episode seemed fairly painless after our recent conversations. Mitch set up a slick professional-looking camera on a tripod facing his kitchenette. We sat side-by-side on the barstools. I wore a black T-shirt as instructed, and Mitch wore blue. I made a crack about us looking like a bruise and was rewarded with a long explanation about the complementary palette of the entire room. Blue eyes, blue shirt, blue tea kettle on the stovetop. Black shirt, my dark eyes, and black and white photos on the wall behind us. I fixed him with a deadpan look until he busted up laughing and ran over a brief itinerary.

“The idea is to keep viewers off-balance from the start. I’ll handle the intro before we launch into the questions. Feel free to jump in whenever. We’ll wrap up with our dance and a quick kiss like we discussed. Sound good?”

I made a face. “I’m cool with everything but the dance.”

“Oh, it’ll be fun! You’ll see. Just follow my lead. This isn’t live TV. We can pause whenever we want. It’s just easier to keep the action going. Plus it feels more natural. Ready?”

When I nodded in agreement, Mitch shifted on his barstool, clicked a button on the remote, and smiled at the camera.

“Hi, everyone. Sorry for the post delay. I’ve been swamped this summer with my internship, training, and general life stuff. But I’m back! I have a project to tell you about and someone special to introduce. This is Evan. He’s a fifth-year senior like me. We go to different schools, but he graciously agreed to help me…”

I sat back and listened as Mitch gave a brief rundown of his project based on his own observations of social media trends in recent years. He recited data and statistics, then outlined our history and the recent changes in our relationship.

“We met through mutual friends four years ago, but we’ve started spending time together on our own too. We’re going to ask you to join us once a week as we outline our journey. Subscribe below and please weigh in. What do you think? Is Evan really my boyfriend or is this all faux?” His dramatic intonation struck the perfect chord between playful and earnest, I mused when he paused and turned to me expectantly. “Tell everyone about yourself, hon.”

“Uh…”

Mitch rolled his eyes playfully and hooked his thumb toward me. “He’s camera-shy. I’ll start. Evan plays football,” he gushed in a campier than normal voice. “The football player and the yell leader. It’s kind of delish, right?”

I snickered at his over-the-top squeal and impulsively put my arm around his shoulder. He leaned against me briefly, then sat up and got to work.

We talked for twenty minutes or more about mundane get-to-know-you topics that were supposedly meant for our audience but were helpful to me too. I didn’t know Mitch started gymnastics when he was five or that he’d competed seriously in his teens. And he didn’t know that my obsession with football began when I was roughly the same age.

“Do you remember what you liked about the sport when you were a kid?” he asked.

“Well, the first thing I remembered liking was the uniform,” I replied with a laugh. “I got a helmet when I was four, and I used to sleep in it. My mom would come in my room at night to take it off ’cause she was afraid I’d hurt my neck. But then I loved the game. I understood the rules and what made certain players better than others. And I wanted to be one of them. I couldn’t wait to join a team and wear the gear.”

“What’s your number?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“That’s my favorite number!” Mitch gasped. He snickered when I rolled my eyes and then continued. “What position do you play?”

“Fullback or tight end.”

“Tight end, eh?” He waggled his brows lasciviously, then asked, “Why not quarterback? They seem to get all the love.”

“That’s not important to me. I just wanted to be part of something bigger than myself. There’s something special about working with a bunch of guys you trust toward a common goal. Everyone is integral to the win. You gotta give it your all every time you step on the field.”

Mitch nodded thoughtfully. “You’re passionate about it.”

“Yeah…I love it, but this is the end of the line for me. I’m hanging up my cleats after these last few games.”

“Then why are you doing this with me?” His voice was low and earnest, as though my response mattered to him.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just surprised you haven’t backed out yet,” he whispered.

“I’m not gonna back out. I like you,” I replied.

“I like you too.”

His smile brightened to something almost incandescent. He looked like a fucking angel. I nodded when he said it was time to switch the pace, but my attention span was shot. I gave automatic answers to silly questions, fixating on his bottom lip when he started talking about fruit preference. Strawberries…or maybe blueberries. I couldn’t concentrate. I had a strong urge to lick the corner of his mouth and—

“Kinky or romantic?”

“Strawberries?”

Mitch chuckled. “No. We moved on.”

“Oh. What’s the question?”

“How do you feel at this very moment? Kinky or romantic?”

“Horny,” I replied automatically.

We held each other’s gaze for a moment, then busted up laughing. My answer wasn’t funny. It was just…awkward. When we finally regained composure, I shifted on my stool, hooked my arm over his shoulders, and covered his mouth in a searing kiss, complete with tongue.

“Wow. Um…that was amazing.” He licked his lips in a daze when he pulled back. Then he pointed at the camera. “We’re supposed to dance now.”

“I don’t want to dance.”

“But it’s our boyfriend dance,” he reminded me in a breathy tone.

“All right. Then dance with me, boyfriend.” I reached for his hand as I stood, gently pulling him to his feet.

He stared at our laced fingers for a moment, then looked up. This time when our eyes met, we froze. I might have stopped breathing too. I couldn’t tell. I set my hands on his hips and swayed from side to side in something reminiscent of a clumsy slow dance at a high school formal. It should have been silly, but it felt hopelessly…romantic. We took a turn around the island and ended up near the door.

His nostrils flared when I brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “Are you going to kiss me again?” he whispered.

When my gaze dropped to his lips, it was all over. I swallowed hard and switched positions so fast that his head hit the door. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I—”

Mitch growled, then grabbed me around the neck and crashed his mouth over mine. The frenetic hunger in the connection surprised me. He bit my lower lip before pushing his tongue inside with a sexy moan that sent a tingle of awareness along my spine. He slipped his hands under my shirt and raked his fingernails down my back while he sucked my tongue and tilted his hips suggestively. My cock swelled in my jeans. I’d been half-hard since we’d climbed the stairs, so the added pressure against my zipper was almost painful. I needed friction badly. It didn’t occur to me to second-guess what we were doing. Right now, I just wanted Mitch.

Our impromptu make-out session escalated in a flash. I grabbed his ass with both hands and ground my pelvis against his manically. Mitch gasped for air and threw his head back, hooking his leg over my thigh. I licked my way up his neck, nibbling his scruffy chin before sealing my mouth over his again. My skin tingled everywhere, and my brain was close to short-circuiting with desire. But that was okay. I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to feel him. I pulled his shirt from his jeans and caressed his smooth stomach, then lowered my hand to his crotch and for the first time in my life, rubbed my palm over a man’s erect cock. When he whimpered in response, I lost it. I had to have him.

I broke our feverish kiss to fumble with his belt buckle. I unbuttoned his fly and moved on to his zipper and—

“Stop.”

I obeyed immediately. It took a second to string a coherent word or two together, though. I stared at his mouth before meeting his gaze. “But…don’t you…?”

“Yeah, I do. In fact, the urge to get on my knees and suck your dick is pretty fucking strong.”

“I’m totally okay with that,” I assured him.

“If you were straight, you wouldn’t like this.” He grabbed my cock through my jeans and stroked. I gasped in surprise, leaning my shoulder against the door to keep from falling over.

“Fuck. That’s good.”

“So you are bi.”

“I am.”

“You are what?” He tightened his grip around my shaft.

“Bi,” I whispered.

“Is that so hard to say?”

“Yeah. No. I—could you maybe move your hand? I’m sweating now.”

Mitch pulled back and gave me a thoughtful once-over. “The camera isn’t on us. No one is watching. This is real. If anything else happens between us, you can’t take it back or pretend you didn’t do it.”

“Why would I want to?”

“Because everyone thinks you’re straight, Evan. You don’t want anyone to know what you want.”

“I haven’t lied.”

“But you haven’t told the truth either.”

“Okay, I’m bi. It’s not necessarily a secret. This is just something I don’t know how to be. I tried once and…” I pushed unwanted memories aside and let out an aggravated rush of air. “The truth is…I don’t really care about your project. I have my own shit to do, but the second you told me about this, I jumped at the chance to be close to you. I want you, Mitch. I probably have for a while, but I didn’t know how to read the signs.”

“What signs?” he prodded.

“Sweaty palms, fever, diarrhea…”

He gave a reluctant half laugh and then pursed his lips. “Sounds serious.”

“It is. Now you know my secrets. I’m bi, I like you, and I’m very inexperienced at anything remotely romantic so…I should probably go and—”

“Stay.” Mitch put his hand on my arm.

“And then what?”

“Tell me what you want from me.”

I swallowed hard. “I want to be with you. Talk to you, kiss you…”

“I thought you wanted me to suck your dick?”

I couldn’t tell if he was playing with me now or if he was serious, but I nodded like a puppet and went with honesty. “I do.”

“Then don’t go. Let me see you.”

My fingers shook as I obeyed, fumbling with my belt and undoing my fly before finally unzipping. I pulled my T-shirt over my head, then hooked my thumbs at my waist. His gaze roamed up and down my chest. Some weird part of me wanted to flex my muscles to impress him, but I needed him to direct us. I couldn’t do this on my own.

“Should I…do you want me to take my jeans off?” I croaked.

“Yes,” he replied in a sex-hazed tone.

Thank fuck. My rigid cock sprang forward as I shoved the fabric over my ass and down my legs. I grabbed myself at the base and stroked. I’d never done this in front of another guy. Ever. And apparently I’d been missing out. Mitch’s slack-jawed admiring stare was good for my confidence. The longer I stood jacking myself languidly with my jeans pooled at my ankles, the more sure I felt. This was right and good. But it could be better.

“Come here. Touch me.”

He stepped between my legs and licked his lips hungrily before wrapping his fingers around me. I hissed at the contact. His hand was warm, and his firm grip felt like a velvet glove. When he squeezed my length and swiped his thumb across my slit, I shivered with need. He let go for a moment to free himself from his jeans and toss his T-shirt over his shoulder. Then he flattened his chest against mine and tilted his hips. The immediate zing of pleasure was intense. I glanced down at us in wonder. His cock was beautiful. He was smaller than me, but not by much. And he looked thick too. I reached down without thinking and gripped both of us in one hand.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he purred, setting his hand over mine.

Good was too weak an adjective. He felt incredible. It wouldn’t take much to come now, I mused as I captured his mouth in a searing kiss. We stood there locked in a passionate tangle, stroking each other as we licked and sucked, only surfacing to gasp for air.

“Oh God, I’m close,” I moaned.

“No. Wait,” he commanded before sinking to his knees.

He looked up at me then and licked his swollen lips before swallowing me whole. He pulled back to lick me from base to tip while he jacked himself with his right hand. Then he twirled his tongue around the wide mushroom head before sucking as much of me as he could at once. My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t believe this was happening. What had he said earlier? The cheerleader and the football player. It was like a dream come true to have a sexy yell leader sucking my cock, kneading my balls, and brushing his fingers over my hole and—oh fuck.

My orgasm hit me like a bolt of lightning. I pushed at his forehead, but I couldn’t speak to warn him. Mitch didn’t seem to mind, though. He sucked harder, milking me dry before sitting back on his heels just as his release shot into the air. I laughed when he wiped at his chin with the back of his hand.

“Leave it. I’ll help you,” I said.

I offered him my hand and pulled him against me, cupping his ass to hold him close before crashing my mouth over his. He tasted like me now. Like he was part of me. Or like he should be part of me.

We made out in a passionate tangle of tongues and roving hands that was sweet and sexy and promising. After a few minutes, I kissed his nose and cradled his chin to get a good look at him.

“That was fucking incredible.”

“Are you okay? You’re not gonna hate me in the morning, are you?” he asked.

“Not a chance.” I traced his jaw and smiled softly. “Who are we now? Do we have a new title or something?”

Mitch captured my hand and kissed my knuckles. “Nothing changes, silly. We’re still just friends.”

I wanted to argue that I didn’t fuck around with my friends, but he was right. One blowjob didn’t make a new relationship.

“Okay. I’ll follow your lead. I don’t know what to do or how to act. If I fuck up, tell me and I’ll—”

“Hey.” Mitch squeezed my hand as he held my gaze meaningfully. “You don’t have to do anything or act a certain way. Just be you. I’ll be me and we’ll see where we land.”

I nodded in agreement and then asked, “We’re not talking about this in the video, right?”

“Hell no! That’s…not real. It’s just a project.”

“Right. Well…” I bent to pull my jeans and briefs up, then leaned in to kiss him. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s going to be amazing.”

“Me too.”

Maybe the significance of what we’d done would hit me later. Maybe I’d feel altered somehow and different in my own skin. I couldn’t say, but I knew I wouldn’t change a thing.