Chapter 9
Jonas
“I can’t believe you’re making me spend the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s house,” Eddie said, getting out of the car with his backpack slung over his shoulder. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Gina isn’t available, so you’re going to have to stick it out here.”
“This isn’t fair. I proved that I could handle myself the other night.”
“Your grandparents are on the porch, waiting for you to come inside. Do you really want to do this right now?”
“No,” he admitted.
“I’ll pick you up in time for volunteering. Be ready.”
“Fine, but I’m not going to have any fun.”
I winked at him. “Sure you aren’t.”
Once he was in the house and safe, I flipped the car around, heading to the address that Arthur had given me. The only clue he’d given me was art and wine. I hoped it was a gallery opening, though I didn’t know of any that were set to open until the following month.
I was just so excited to be out of my house and away from the events of the past few days. Tonight was about connecting with Arthur, and seeing if this was going to go any further. The problem with Eddie and the relentless bully would have to wait until the morning.
I pulled up to a quaint little barn-shaped structure and parked next to Arthur’s car, which was parked around the back, away from the streetlights. When I got out, Arthur appeared out of nowhere, kissing me boldly, his hands plunging into my hair.
I kissed him back and pulled him into my arms, leaning against my car and gathering him close, inhaling the sweet smell of fresh shampoo and a tropical-scented body wash. “You smell good,” I said when he finally let me breathe again.
“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I went home Tuesday night.”
“I can tell,” I chuckled. “So, what is this place?”
“An art barn. Tonight is a sip and paint. I hope you like painting.”
“I’m not any good at it.”
“Don’t worry, no one is. And the wine helps.”
“I like wine,” I said.
“I know. And I figured you like fine art.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “Fine art?”
“Yeah,” he said, blushing. “You’re fine, and there’s also going to be art.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “That is the cheesiest line ever.”
“You loved it,” he teased.
“I did,” I admitted. “I hope you have more of those handy. They’re better than dad jokes.”
“Nothing is better than dad jokes.”
I took in Arthur’s beige linen tunic and khaki cargo shorts. His shoulder-length hair moved with the warm breeze that swirled around us. “I think I might still be overdressed,” I said, looking down at my button-up shirt and my new jeans.
“I can fix that,” Arthur said. He reached out and unbuttoned three of my buttons, then pulled the hem of my shirt out of my waistband. “There. It would be better if you were barefoot, but this will work for now.”
“Well then,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone anywhere with my shirt untucked like this.”
“I can tell. The mindfully disheveled look suits you.”
“Something tells me that you would say that about anything I wore.”
“And you would be right." He took my hand and he tugged me forward. “Come on. I can’t wait for you to see this place.”
“Have you been here a lot?” I asked, suddenly jealous at the thought of Arthur bringing other men here. I pushed it aside.
“Are you asking if I’ve brought dates here? No. This is something I do just for me.”
“How did you know?”
“I could see it in your eyes." He elbowed me playfully and winked. “Jealousy is not your best look.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“What about that place with the cheeses? Have you taken anyone there before?”
“No, I usually take them to this dive bar.”
“Usually?” he asked, laughing. “Are you a serial dater or something?”
I almost denied it, but I remembered my promise to Eddie. This time was going to be different, and if it didn’t work out, it wouldn’t be because I didn’t try to do better. “Yes. I was. But I had a revelation, and I made my son a promise.”
He stopped laughing, his face serious. “And what was that?”
“I promised him that I would set the judgment aside, and I would get to know someone on a deeper level before I decided that they weren’t for me.”
“Is that what you’re doing now?”
“No,” I admitted. “It turns out that it wasn’t me. I just wasn’t dating the right guys.
All that judgment, and all those little doubts that popped up in the back of my mind, haven’t happened with you. I don’t know how to explain it, but I can tell it’s different this time. Maybe it will end in the best friendship I’ve ever known, but I feel like this is something special."
I paused, searching his green eyes for reassurance. “I hope that doesn’t scare you off.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he said quietly, pulling me aside to avoid the group that was heading into the art barn. “Actually, it makes me feel better. I’ve noticed the same thing about you.
“I’m not defensive, and I’m not using some of the coping mechanisms I usually rely on. I’m like a completely different person, but a better version of myself, you know?”
“They always say the best relationships bring out the best in both people.”
He smiled, and I longed to reach out and caress his cheek. But someone inside was calling for everyone to gather round, and it was too soon. I wanted to wait. He was that special to me.
“It’s time to paint,” I said nervously. “Be prepared to be underwhelmed.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t show off.”
“Thanks,” I said wryly. “You really are the best.”
We walked into the building hand in hand, found the last two canvases side by side, and settled in.
When a cheery woman came around with wine, I gladly took one. We were only three steps into our tree, and I was already lost. Arthur had looked over at my creation more than once, but if he was laughing at me, he was hiding it well.
I leaned over, putting my hand on his shoulder and getting close enough to whisper in his ear. “Why does yours look like a tree?”
“Because I’m watching the teacher and not my date,” he said with a shrug.
“My view is better.”
He smiled, still intent on what he was doing. “Try to keep up,” he teased.
I laughed, then went back to butchering the painting that I was working so hard at. When the teacher came around to check our work, she stopped at mine and tilted her head. “Wow,” she said, no indication of what she meant by that one word in her voice.
“You obviously do this a lot,” I said. “You’re very good at making sure I don’t feel completely emasculated by my artistic failing.”
The teacher laughed so hard she snorted. “That’s the first time I’ve heard anyone say that." She put her hand out for my paint brush. “May I?”
“Well, you can’t make it worse.”
She made a few swipes, and after about three brushstrokes, my eyes grew wide. “Hey, that looks like a real tree now.”
She nodded. “It was in there. You just had to give it a way to get out. See? You’re not half bad.”
Inspired by the change, I started working at my canvas, watching the teacher out of the corner of my eye while she critiqued Arthur’s masterpiece. Then she left, and I leaned over again. “She didn’t paint on yours,” I said.
“It didn’t need anything.”
“Or maybe it needed too much.”
“How much wine have you had?” he quipped.
“Enough to feel like a genuine artist.”
“Oh boy,” he said, grabbing the wine glass I’d placed where the water cup for my brushes should’ve been and setting it out of reach. “No more wine for you.”
“That’s all right,” I said, feeling especially bold. “I don’t need wine when I have you.”
He looked stunned, then a slow smile made its way across his handsome face. I wanted to kiss him again, but not right there in the middle of class. Even with a belly full of wine, I still had my limits.
The teacher finished the class, then came around the room with a plate full of breads and cheeses. I took one of each, but she insisted I have more. “I’m fine,” I said.
“I know, but I hope you have someone to drive you home." She looked pointedly at Arthur.
“I’ve got him,” Arthur said.
“I’m not drunk,” I said. “But I am a little buzzed.”
“I’ll drive you home,” he said.
“And how will you get home?”
“I’ll take a Lyft back here and get my car.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been dying to drive the Audi.”
“All right,” I said, letting him lead the way to my car and handing him the keys. “It’s got a lot more power than your electric car.”
“That’s what I was hoping.”
I got into the passenger seat, and Arthur turned the car on and eased out of the space. “You’re going to have to tell me where you live. And there’s the issue of whether or not your son should see us driving up together like this.”
“He’s at my parents’ house.” I winked. “Spending the night.”
“You are hella laid back when you’re tipsy.”
“I’m starting to feel better already; I like feeling this free. I’m not used to being so lighthearted.”
Arthur took my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing my knuckles and setting my soul aflame. “It’s a good look on you. Now, tell me where you live, and I’ll take you home. I’ll even walk you to your door.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for this night to end,” I said, pushing the navigation button and scrolling to my home address.
“What are you saying?” he asked.
“I’m not saying we should sleep together, but I have a big-screen tv and premium cable.”
He looked at me, searching my eyes. I smiled. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“It’s just a little tv,” I said.
We made it to my house a few minutes later, and he held my hand as we walked up to the side door. I turned on the kitchen light and grabbed a couple bottles of water from the fridge, then led him to the den and I turned on the tv. “What do you want to watch?” I asked.
“I don’t care,” he said. “I just want to be here, with you.”
My stomach fluttered, and I felt a familiar heat building inside. I wanted to take him to my room so badly, show him what he was missing so he would never leave.
But I had a son, and so did he. It was up to us to make good decisions, even if they killed us.
He sat down on the couch beside me. I put my arm around his waist, my hand resting on his hip. The house was cool, and when I felt him shiver, I grabbed a blanket from the space between the couch and the wall and handed it to him.
“Thanks,” he said.
I responded by kissing his cheek and settling in to watch a movie that was already thirty minutes in. I didn’t bother to look up the name. I didn’t really care.
My hand was on his thigh, his hand on mine, the blanket covering both. I was stroking his thigh, dangerously close to crossing a line I wasn’t sure we were ready for. Still, I moved a little, my knuckles grazing the side of his shaft.
I froze, about to pull my hand away and apologize, when Arthur grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes. I saw the need there, mixed with uncertainty and something else I couldn’t quite place. I leaned down and kissed him, tenderly this time, reassuring him that it was about more than just lust. “I’m not expecting anything in return,” I said.
He nodded, kissing me again when I leaned forward. He was scared, which I found so endearing, I almost took him to bed right then.
Arthur didn’t move to help me, but I knew exactly what he needed. I unzipped his cargo shorts and pushed them open, slipping my hand into his boxers and grabbing his erection in my hand. I had my other arm around his back, holding him tightly, kissing his neck as I stroked him until he was rock hard, then ran my thumb over the head, teasing the excited flesh with every stroke.
“It’s been a long time,” he said quietly.
“I’ll be gentle,” I said.
I settled in, kissing his cheek and leaning against him, letting the tv draw our attention again. I took my time, and it wasn’t until the end credits came on that I quickened my leisurely pace, no longer teasing him.
He moaned when I turned to face him and threw my leg over his to hold him open. I cupped his balls with my free hand, stroking the smooth flesh with my fingertips until he was trembling in my hands.
He called out my name in the darkness, bucking and writhing as he came, then falling back against the sofa, gasping, trying to catch his breath. I captured his mouth with mine, my hand cupping his manhood as he came down from an intense orgasm. His body was relaxed and his pants were still unzipped when I balled up the blanket and threw it towards the laundry room.
“Sorry about that,” he chuckled.
“It won’t be the last time,” I promised.
I gathered him into my arms, ignoring my own need for the pure joy of holding him. He was still partly undressed, but we were too focused on holding each other to care.
Arthur was nestled against my chest and almost asleep when he sat bolt upright and looked at the time. He sighed and kissed me quickly. “I have to go,” he said. “I have to be somewhere in the morning.”
“Me too,” I groaned.
“When can I see you again?”
“I have a long week,” I admitted. “Can I touch base with you midweek, and we’ll see where we’re both at?”
“Of course." He smiled mischievously. “And if you decide I need to return the favor before that, kissing isn’t my only oral talent." He winked, and I laughed.
I ran my fingers over his manhood one last time, then sighed when he stood and fixed his clothing. After I called him a Lyft, I waited outside with him until it arrived.
“I’ll see you soon,” I said, kissing him goodbye. Then I watched the car’s taillights disappear into the night, and wished that just this once, I would’ve ignored the little voice inside my head and asked him to stay.