Page 31 of Hurricane Love

But this wasn’t just about blow jobs and getting off, not for Diego, and he wanted to make that clear from the start. “What are you doing on Thursday?” It was their next day off. Diego knew because he’d memorized their schedules.

“Nothing.”

“Want to do something with me then?”

Wylie grinned, dimples flashing. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Yeah. We could go to the beach. Bring food?” It was something that didn’t cost too much money, since both of them were on a tight budget.

Wylie nodded, seeming to like the idea. “Yeah, I want to see you in your bathing suit. You got a thong?”

“What? No,” Diego said, laughing despite his nerves.

“A Speedo?”

“Definitely not.”

“Well, maybe we could find a nude beach then.”

There were no nude beaches in Pinellas County that Diego knew of, but maybe that had changed. More likely Wylie was just saying it to mess with him.

“So, it’s a date,” Diego said to confirm it.

“Yeah, it’s a date,” Wylie replied with a soft smile.

Warm and pleasantly aroused, Diego settled back into his seat, proud of himself for achieving yet another milestone–asking another man out on a date. In between shifting gears, Wylie rested his palm on Diego’s inner thigh. The hand slowly crept higher until Wylie’s knuckles were brushing against the side of his hard dick. Not by accident. When Diego glanced over, Wylie was grinning.

“What?” Wylie asked innocently.

Diego shook his head. The man was a menace.

CHAPTER 9

WYLIE

It promisedto be another hot, muggy day, but the monotony of summer was broken up by the fact that Wylie had a date–a real one–with his elusive crush. His body thrummed with excitement as he cruised down East Bay Drive to Diego’s place. This was their firstofficialdate, the one they’d tell their families and future kids about.Ifthey had kids, Wylie reminded himself. Diego seemed like a family man, but they should probably talk about that at some point.

Slow the fuck down.

That was his problem, his imagination. It was so vivid that Wylie could plan entire futures in his head based on very little information–him with his law degree, working as a public defender while Diego put in long hours at his own restaurant. Their first few years would be tough, and they’d have to make time for each other, but once things settled down in their careers, they could start thinking about adoption or surrogacy. Of course they’d be married by then–within a year or two. Wylie wouldn’t hesitate to lock that shit down.

And there he went, doing it again. It was an unhealthy habit of his because then when things didn’t work out as planned, he waseven more disappointed about the future that would never be. It was the shadow side of his ability to manifest. Better for him to focus only on today and what Diego might look like in his bathing suit.

The man in question was waiting on the second-story breezeway outside his apartment, looking fine as fuck in swim trunks that hugged his thick thighs and a t-shirt that was so distressed it was practically transparent. Diego spotted him idling in the parking lot and started walking toward the concrete stairwell. Wylie hadn’t been invited up to Diego’s apartment yet, and he was wildly curious, but he could be patient. The bucket hat on Diego’s head and knapsack over one shoulder made him look absolutely adorable, like a school kid going on a field trip, and instead of his trademark steel-toed boots, he wore flip-flops. This was Wylie’s first opportunity to see the man’s feet. How exciting.

“Sup?” Diego said as he climbed into the passenger side of the car.

“Sup, hottie,” Wylie replied. He wished they were at the stage of smooching upon greeting, but not yet. They’d get there though, he knew it.

“I’m thinking Pub subs for lunch?” Diego suggested.

“Solid.”

They swung by Publix to load up on food–sub sandwiches, chips, bakery cookies (half choco-chip, half sprinkles). Diego didn’t drink alcohol, so they grabbed some sports drinks instead. Wylie figured the no-drinking thing had something to do with his past addiction, but he didn’t want to bring it up unnecessarily. At the register, Diego insisted on paying. “To make up for all the gas,” he claimed, but Wylie suspected it was because thiswasa date and Diego, to his delight, had been the one to ask him.

On the way to the beach, they chatted about work and Diego’s recent visit to his mom’s house. He’d fixed some cabinets for her, and she’d made him dinner afterward. It had ended with his mother telling him she needed her gutters cleaned out too, and sothey’d made another date for next Tuesday. Wylie suspected Ms. Machado had an endless list of tasks awaiting Diego’s attention and thought it was a pretty clever way to keep her son coming back, but he didn’t mention it to Diego. He’d figure it out soon enough.

They parked at Clearwater Beach and hauled their shit to the shore, setting up camp on two towels underneath an over-sized beach umbrella. It shaded them both, mostly, and would hopefully keep the seagulls at bay. They were aggressive little monsters at this beach, thanks to all the tourists feeding them Cheetohs and whatnot. Wylie had spent so many good times at this beach with his mother as a kid. They’d usually stay for the bonfire and drum circle at sunset, Wylie running around chasing birds while his mother danced to the music. It used to make him sad, coming here, but now he just smiled at the memories.