8. Mik

CHAPTER 8

MIK

Janel leans into me, and I wipe the tears from my eyes as Jase finishes his speech by talking about how grateful he is to have had good role models in his life. He mentions his grandparents, who worked themselves out of poverty. His grandfather, who was a first-generation immigrant to this country. His uncle, who is not afraid to be his authentic self in the public eye. And his parents, who worked hard and made sacrifices to give him every opportunity to get to where he is now.

There isn't a dry eye in the auditorium, and I'm the first on my feet for a standing ovation as he steps away from the podium.

I'm so fucking proud of him.

It feels like yesterday I was standing in this same auditorium, waiting for them to call my name. Jason was right next to me. He was supposed to be three seats down from me, since we were seated alphabetically, but we bribed the guy who was supposed to sit there and promised they'd switch back when it was time to walk. We'd whispered and giggled through the boring ceremony and then waited for each other before we went out to greet our families. I had my whole life ahead of me, but I had no direction. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life aside from staying close to Jason. Jesus, I was pathetic. A year later, we watched Janel walk across that same stage, and then less than a year after that, she found out she was pregnant.

My father told me I'd ruined my life. And at the time, I agreed. I was catatonic that first day, too stunned to do more than pull on a pair of sweatpants before pulling Janel into a hug. My mind worked overtime, trying to figure out how I was going to balance my relationship with her brother while being the father of her child, but Jason made that decision for me. He walked in and saw me, sitting on the edge of the bed with his crying sister in my arms. We'd locked eyes, and it was the first time I spoke. My words were spoken into the top of Janel's head. Words meant to soothe her, but mostly, I was talking to him. I told them we'd figure it out. That it would all be okay.

But it wasn't okay, and it never would be again. Because the next day, he was gone. He didn't answer my calls or respond to my texts. We found out through Janel's parents that Jason had accepted a position on a foreign rugby team, right before Janel's father sat me down for a long speech about doing the right thing.

To this day, I don't know if it was the right thing, marrying her and moving on like nothing had happened. But I do know that Jase didn't ruin my life. If anything, he gave it direction and purpose. And maybe the love of my life is sitting in the row behind me instead of standing next to me, beaming and wiping away tears as we cheer on the unexpected miracle we made. But even my broken heart was worth it to bring such an incredible young man into the world. There's nothing about my son that I could ever regret.

After the ceremony, we do the young and cool parents' thing and let Jase throw a party in our basement. The door to my office is locked, and my box of shame is safely hidden away. I'm sure the kids will sneak in some booze, and it won't be the first time I've smelled pot in the backyard, but as long as no one drives or gets knocked up, why not let them enjoy their night? They'll be making their own choices, unsupervised, within a few weeks.

If anything, Jase has been over-educated about safe sex, so I'm not too worried about him in that respect. He's heard all about the intricacies of how birth control can fail. His mother had been taking antibiotics for a sinus infection around the time that he was conceived, and we're pretty sure that's why the pill failed us. Normally we used condoms, too. In fact, the night she snuck into my room after I'd tried to breakup with her was the only time we'd ever gone without.

Jase has gotten the ‘it only takes once' lecture so many times he's started interrupting us to quote the next line. He's so tired of hearing it, he might never have children just to prove he's heard it enough. Even Janel's parents harp on him about it. I'll never forget the day Jase announced to us that he wishes he were gay, so he wouldn't have to listen to ‘the talk' anymore. Just for the fun of it, Janel got Jason on the phone so he could chime in about the merits of safe sex in all situations, because an unplanned pregnancy isn't the only outcome of unsafe sex.

I remember that call implicitly because all I could think about was the only other time I'd ever had unprotected sex. With him.

Janel takes a glass of wine and a pair of headphones upstairs, wishing us luck with supervising the madness. We're really only here for emergencies and to mitigate any damage, so there's not much for us to do other than hang around. Jason and I awkwardly sit on opposite ends of the couch, watching sports highlights while the heavy bass reverberates through the floor below us.

Nothing on the screen is penetrating my brain. My awareness is firmly on him. Whenever I cut my eyes towards him, his eyes are on the television screen. There's zero indication that being a mere four feet from me affects him at all.

But he's affecting me. My skin tingles, and my cock is painfully hard. I'm sitting with my legs crossed and holding an empty mug in my lap to hide it.

"I think the Panthers might take it all the way this season," Jason says suddenly. His deep voice takes me by surprise, and I find myself staring at him. Once my eyes are on him, I can't tear them away. I try to make conversation to cover up my awkwardness, but I know it isn't working.

"I think they just might," I agree. "The team's been looking good since they recruited Perry."

"I'm glad he's still doing well for us," he remarks, still not looking at me. "Jase said him coming out caused quite a stir around here."

"We are in the South," I say with a tiresome huff. The whole media circus surrounding the NFL's most promising rookie coming out was the only thing people talked about for months. Thank goodness all the bullshit he went through didn't slow him down. He's been proving bigots wrong left and right, putting up record winning stats and helping the Panthers rise to success. The last two seasons have been our best yet, and for the first time ever we are looking at a potential Superbowl on the horizon.

"Changing minds and changing lives, one touchdown at a time," he says, lifting his beer in the air to salute the picture of Jack Perry on the screen.

"You ever wish you'd stuck with football?" I ask, grasping at straws to keep the conversation going. I want to keep him talking. It's less awkward, but I also always loved the sound of his voice. I sometimes eavesdropped when Jase had him on speakerphone just to hear that sultry rumble.

Redirect, Mik. The idea is to get rid of the boner, not make it worse .

"Nah. It's not rough and dirty enough for me," he quips with a laugh. My cock twitches. He coughs, perhaps realizing the awkwardness of his statement. "Do you like coaching?" he asks, quickly changing the subject.

I shrug and nod. "Yeah, sure. Maybe not as fun as playing, but that shit's getting rough."

He blows out a breath and chuckles. "Tell me about it. They treat me like I'm a fucking grandpa."

"It doesn't show on the field. You still dominate."

My cheeks flush when I realize I've just exposed myself.

"The whole family gets together to watch every match," I say quickly, trying to cover up how closely I've followed his career since he left.

"I'm not as fast as I used to be," he says awkwardly.

"Who is?" I laugh. "We're almost forty years old, not that you look it." It's not something that I meant to say out loud, but now it's floating in the air between us and he's giving me a confused look. "Not all of us have been keeping ourselves in prime condition," I say, gesturing to myself. I'd grown a bit of a paunch in the past few years that I didn't really care to address until I heard he was coming back. But no amount of sit-ups or running can seem to tighten up my midsection.

"You look good," he says quietly, his eyes raking up and down my body.

He seems to realize what he's said, because he turns away entirely. But the words are out there now. They linger, filling me with a ridiculous, painful kind of hope. I can't have him, I know that. But a sick part of me wants him to want me as much as I want him. How fucked up is that ?

The silence is heavy and awkward. I need to work some of this tension out before I break. I need to get out of here, to escape the thick emotions and memories that are filling the room and making it hard to breathe. I stand abruptly, and Jason turns to look up at me. Too afraid to open my mouth again, lest I say something stupid, I give him a tight smile and head to the garage.

The kids' music isn't as loud in here, so I turn on my own playlist, then unbutton my shirt. The humidity in the air is oppressive, and while I lost the tie as soon as we arrived home, I'm still wearing the slacks and button-down shirt I'd worn to the graduation ceremony earlier. I pull off the shirt and my belt, leaving me in my dress pants and a tank top. Janel prefers I keep my ink covered in public. I sometimes get annoyed with how much she cares about anyone seeing my tattoos, but it keeps her off my back about them. It's a small sacrifice to keep this part of myself and help her be more comfortable with this side of me.

I move over to the weight bench, grunting as I lift the bar. The more my muscles burn, the more I get out of my head. It's not helping my erection go down, though. After a couple of sets, I try readjusting myself, but even the slight touch makes me groan. Fuck. I'm hard enough that I think I could almost pull off having sex with my wife, but I don't want to do that with Jason in the house. Even after eighteen years and photographic proof that he's been seeing multiple other people, I still feel guilty every time I give in. It's stupid, I know.

My mind flashes to the way he looked me up and down in the living room, and I cup my erection over my pants. Goddamn, but he does it for me. It's not fair. After all this time, all it takes is one look from him, or even just his nearness, to scramble my brain. My body can't help but respond to him.

I'm lying back on the weight bench, squeezing myself through my pants, when I feel my skin prickle. I turn my head towards a flicker of movement and sit up. In the reflective surface of a toolbox, there's the barely distinguishable shape of a man that could only be Jason.

Is he watching me?

Fire shoots through my veins. The thought of his eyes on me is enough to make me forget everything and everyone. My cock is now painfully hard, throbbing against the confines of my pants as I slowly unbutton and lower my zipper. Biting my lip, my hips involuntarily thrust into my hand the moment I wrap my fingers around myself. The figure shuffles. I can't see him anymore. Hell, maybe it was my imagination. Still, I keep the fantasy alive, pretending I can feel his heated gaze on me.

"Oh, fuck," I whisper, and close my eyes.

Widening my legs and leaning back on the bench, I stroke myself firmly but languidly until my balls are tingling and I can hear Jason's breathing on the other side of the room. He's still here. Fuck.

Spitting into my palm, I use my wet hand to guide my movements until pre-cum is leaking down my shaft. I pump myself harder, spurred by the prickle of awareness that he's watching me.

My abs and forearms flex as I fuck into my fist, thinking of nothing but his eyes burning into me. As I get closer to release, I forget the game, forget I was pretending not to notice he was there. My eyes open and lock on his intense, heavy lidded blue gaze, and within seconds I'm coming all over my hand, lap, and the bench.

Jason bites his lips and his bicep flexes, and it's only then that I notice his hand around his own cock. The massive thing is heavy and glistening, and the slight curve makes my mouth fill with saliva. His fist rolls over the head on every other stroke, until he's catching his release in his palm. I stroke myself harder through the aftershocks of my orgasm as I watch him come undone.