6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Jon was not stupid, and he was trying very hard not to be stupid about this, too.

He couldn't say he had a lot of experience with dating. He'd done it, of course, but nothing had ever lasted a long time. It was hard, when his feelings had never been particularly engaged, not in a serious way, and when he kept moving from place to place, climbing up the coaching ladder.

There was a part inside him who wanted to claim this thing with Kieran wasn't a dating thing, at all, but he knew it was a lie the moment the thought crossed his mind.

What he really should do was talk to someone about all these new feelings he was experiencing. Help him parse them out. But the issue with that was he didn't know anyone he could ask, at least not well enough to risk revealing so much personal info.

It wasn't like he was an unknown anymore; he was the head coach for the Charleston Condors. He drew quite a bit of media coverage, mostly because nobody knew what to expect from him or his team during the upcoming season. And also, Kieran liked to tease, because he was too young and too good-looking to be the head coach of a professional football team.

If he'd wanted to believe it wasn't like that between that —Kieran flirting with him and Jon liking it—was enough for him to at least acknowledge that things were changing.

But how to take a step forward?

Jon was out of experience and way out of his comfort zone.

He considered calling his old high school friend, the one who'd come out in college, but they hadn't talked in years, and it would be so awkward for Jon to call him up now. And his niece was too young to give him the kind of practical advice he needed.

He kept coming back to the same thing.

You should just ask Kieran.

But it was about Kieran. How could he ask him when it would become obvious, very very quickly, that the person who'd jumpstarted all these questions was the man Jon was directing them to?

You should just do it anyway. It's not like he's ignorant. Or blind. Or stupid.

But Jon felt a little stupid.

It was easier for him to keep their conversations light and easy after his trip to the bar. He complained about the rookies. Kieran agreed they were idiots who didn't know their head from their ass.

But even then, even as he kept it light, he knew things were changing.

Kieran was more direct. More undeniably flirtatious. And so was Jon, even as he tried to pretend he wasn't.

You want this. No matter what lies you're still telling yourself.

But it was one thing to want it. Another to acknowledge it. And a whole other to do something about it.

In between meetings and practices and convincing the rookies to attempt anything he suggested, Jon contemplated the problem.

Kieran had made it clear the ball was in his court.

For you, yeah I'd do it , he'd said about breakfast, only a few days ago. Making his feelings just about as clear as he could.

As clear as Jon had a feeling Kieran felt comfortable with.

It was time for him to do something, too. But what?

Jon debated with himself for three solid days before he woke up on that fourth morning and realized that he'd already decided.

He was going to talk to Kieran. If he couldn't, or it didn't go well, then that would be the evidence he needed that they couldn't do this. That they couldn't be more than just friends. But if it did go well . . .then Jon could always make it clear—in case it wasn't clear enough before—that the man who'd led to all these questions was Kieran himself.

And what would happen after that?

Jon felt hot and cold at that thought, but undeniably eager enough that he knew it was the right move.

If they couldn't be friends first, real friends, who did more than bitch about their day, or celebrate the minor successes, then they couldn't be lovers.

But if they could . . . well .

So Jon sent Kieran a text. I've got a late meeting tonight, he said, choosing every single word of his text with care. And it's a Wednesday so I know it's usually light there at the bar. Think you could duck out and meet me for a late-night breakfast?

He hadn't needed to suggest breakfast—but he wanted Kieran to understand that this was him taking Kieran up on his unspoken offer.

Making it as clear as he could. Maybe not as clear as Kieran had been, a week ago, but, Jon hoped, clear enough.

I can do that, Kieran said. Feeling a breakfast craving?

If we want to call it that, sure. Jon hesitated. Then told himself that he'd never been a coward and to just do it. Embrace it. And I thought we could talk.

About?

Jon gave him points for not saying they talked all the time—because they did.

This is why you wanna take this chance. Why you're not gonna duck out on this shot before you even aim. Because think how good this could be, if you had this and more, too?

Assuming you had some questions and struggles, too, when you realized you weren't straight.

Jon let out a hard breath. Feeling a little nauseous. He'd done it.

Yeah. Definitely. I'm honored you want to talk to me about it.

He'd already been honest, enough it wasn't so hard to continue.

I wouldn't want to ask anyone else, he texted back. And that was truer than he'd realized, because even if he'd had options, Jon had a feeling he'd have ended up asking Kieran anyway.

Kieran didn't say anything to that, but he did reply ten minutes later. Rudy's Diner, 11 PM?

Jon sent back a thumb's-up emoji and they were set for the night.

He didn't want to call it a date—but maybe a friends but maybe more meet-up?

Oh, don't be stupid, you hope it's a goddamned date.

He dressed like it was a date. Changing into a different shirt, ditching his khaki pants for a pair of jeans that an old girlfriend had said made his ass look fantastic.

Ignoring the voice inside that insisted, You can use all the help you can get.

He got to the diner fifteen minutes early and ordered coffee, even though he was going to be up all night if he drank it.

Or maybe that's gonna be Kieran keeping you up all night.

Jon told himself sternly to stop thinking that way, stop wondering what might happen after this conversation, because if he sweated through his shirt, it wasn't going to do him any favors.

Kieran walked into the diner at three minutes to eleven, his handsome face creasing into a bright, wide smile as he spotted Jon.

"Hey," he said, sliding into the booth opposite him.

"Hey," Jon said, trying not to sound nervous and failing.

"Coffee?" Kieran asked, glancing over at Jon's half-drunk cup. "You got someplace you gotta be after this?"

Yes. In your pants.

"Uh." Jon cleared his throat. How was it possible that Kieran looked even better somehow under these bright fluorescent lights? He'd imagined the impact of him might have been helped along by the friendly dim lighting at the bar.

"Hey, listen, it's alright. I . . .I get it." Kieran's expression turned sympathetic and he reached out, brushing Jon's hand so briefly that, for a second, he thought he must've imagined it.

But he hadn't.

"When did you know?" Jon asked, deciding he was going straight to the question that had haunted him the longest. How had he gotten to thirty-three years of age and not realized he was into guys, too?

It made him feel painfully out of tune with his own brain. His own heart .

"Not til freshman year in college actually," Kieran said wryly. "Though—no, that's not quite true. I suspected. But then I made out with David Gardner after getting high at a frat party, and it was kind of hard to deny after that."

"Ah." Jon felt stupid. He'd gotten high at frat parties, too. Never made out with a guy at one. Maybe if he had, he'd have realized this particular truth sooner.

But then if the frat guy hadn't been like Kieran, he didn't think he'd have been particularly interested.

"Listen, though," Kieran said, leaning in, his gray eyes so intent, "sexuality's like a rainbow. Maybe you're red-orange, maybe you're turquoise. Then maybe you meet someone who makes you more of a cobalt blue."

Jon had done some research on his own, and that fit with what he'd read.

"So it's not . . .weird . . .if I thought I was turquoise, but I discovered that I was actually more of that . . .uh . . .cobalt blue? Or even purple?"

"Of course it isn't," Kieran said, sounding so sure that Jon envied him his confidence.

"You're a remarkably judgment-free person."

It was why they'd gotten along so well. Why Jon just plain liked him.

Kieran shrugged. Picked up the menu. "It's not that hard to put myself into other people's shoes and have a little bit of empathy for what they're going through."

"And yet so few people do it," Jon said.

Part of him wanted to apologize to Kieran. To say, I'm sorry, I'm sure this hasn't been easy on you either, because I think you like me, too, and if you thought it was hopeless, that would've sucked.

But he didn't.

"What are you thinking of getting?" Kieran asked.

"Uh, I don't know." Apparently a theme for the evening. "Maybe the banana pancakes."

Kieran glanced at him over the top of his menu. "I'm gonna get the bacon and cheese omelet? Split with me?"

Jon had already begun to relax, feeling like he'd made the right choice in discussing this with Kieran, but his offer sealed it.

"It's a deal," Jon said. Put his hand out and Kieran shook it impudently, but then their hands both lingered there.

Kieran's calluses brushing the sensitive curve between Jon's thumb and his index finger.

Of course the waitress chose that moment to arrive at their table.

Kieran dropped Jon's hand, so quickly that he wanted to reach out and snatch it back, even though he understood exactly why he'd done it.

The waitress might've recognized him. Might've remembered, later, that he'd been holding hands with a guy.

They ordered, and Kieran added a cup of coffee to match Jon's. "'Cause apparently we're staying up late and playing hooky tonight," he said with a crooked grin as the waitress dropped off a mug for him, giving Jon a refill.

"I'm game if you are." Please say you are .

Kieran picked up his mug and clanked it carefully against Jon's. "You know I am," he said softly.

It was the strangest first date Jon had ever been on, and yet also the most comfortable.

After that first initial bit of awkwardness, they chatted so easily, like they had from the first, Jon telling stories about all his idiot rookies and their stupid antics, and Kieran telling him about Brock's first week as a bartender.

"He sliced all the citrus the wrong way, a whole fucking bushel of limes and lemons and oranges, and for days , I had to serve drinks with them." Kieran shook his head. "And the second night, he ate a whole jar of maraschino cherries and got sick in the bathroom. All that neon red splashed across the toilet, like a freaking crime scene. But he's shaped up pretty well after that."

"And you could take off, because he's there?" Jon chased the last bite of pancake, scooping it up with a healthy swirl of maple syrup. He felt jittery and energized, and not just because of the caffeine and the sugar.

He was lit up inside at the thought of what they might do after their late-night breakfast.

"Yeah. He's a great guy. Him and Nadia are both easy to rely on. I should do it more."

Jon had never felt the butterflies swirl quite this insistently. After grabbing the check and setting down a few bills, Kieran shooting him an amused glance at his stubborn and determined expression, Jon decided that was the reason that the awkwardness returned.

Should he be the one to suggest continuing the evening? Kieran had made it pretty clear that the ball was in his court. That if he wanted them to move forward, he was going to have to be proactive about it.

What should he say?

We could go to my condo. It's not that far away. Only a few miles away. Then we could . . .uh . . .Netflix and chill?

Except Jon wasn't even sure anyone even did that anymore. Would he reveal himself to be very uncool if he said that out loud?

But then to his surprise, Kieran said as they stood up from the booth, "You wanna head to my place? It's only a few blocks away."

Maybe that was why Kieran had suggested the diner in the first place.

Jon nodded. "Yeah. I'd like that."

The air outside the diner was still warm and humid, encasing them in the wet blanket feeling that Jon didn't think he'd ever get used to.

Every once in awhile, a breeze would waft around them and it was so refreshing Jon tipped his head back and let the cooler air sweep over him.

"Not used to the humidity yet, I take it," Kieran teased, watching him intently.

"Not even close."

"Well, hopefully you're around long enough for you to adjust," Kieran said.

"I'm planning on it," Jon said. Promised . Trying to say he wanted to stick around and be the Condors' coach, but not just for the team, but for Kieran himself. He'd never connected so strongly and viscerally to someone before. Was it any wonder he was going halfway out of his mind with the thought that in a few minutes they'd be at Kieran's place, in the dark, in private, and nobody would know what happened there except the two of them?

"This is me," Kieran said, leading him up a set of stairs to one of those tall, narrow row houses. But then he stopped at the front door.

"I have to ask," he said, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, but his eyes never leaving Jon's, "if . . .well, when we first met you said you were straight and now . . ."

"And now I don't think I am?" Jon asked, and Kieran nodded.

It was the moment of truth. Kieran had brought up the subject, but Jon knew it was up to him to finish it.

"Well, if you're asking if meeting you changed things." Jon reached out and this time there was no waitress to make Kieran pull his hand away. He squeezed it, turning the handshake into something more intimate. Kieran's thumb brushed that sensitive curve of his hand again. Encouraging him, Jon realized. "Yeah. It did. I don't know if it changed me, or I was always like this, and I didn't know, but however you define it, I'm definitely cobalt for you."

"Purple even?" The corner of Kieran's mouth quirked up.

"Bright fucking purple," Jon said. He leaned in and before he lost his nerve, brushed his mouth over Kieran's.

It was different than every other kiss he'd ever had, but better , too. The rough rasp of Kieran's stubble, his bigger, broader body, and then there was that undeniable electricity between them that flared to life.

No, he'd never mistake kissing Kieran for anyone else, and yes, he loved it.

Kieran's gray eyes were luminous and filled with happiness when he pulled back. But his arm was still locked rightly around Jon's waist. "Like I said, it's absolutely my honor," he said.

Jon gestured to the door. "You gonna let us in and let me try that again? Cause I have a feeling the second attempt's gonna be even better than the first."

Kieran smiled. "Yeah."