Page 47 of My Brother’s Best Friend

“Not without warning you. I didn’t mean to make you swallow it.”

“You did warn me,” he said, his smile growing. “And you didn’t make me do anything. I wanted to taste you.”

“But I—” I shook my head. I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. “You don’t think there’s something weird about this? Something wrong?”

“You mean, aside from the obvious illegality of sucking you off in a public restroom?”

“I mean about us.”

“If there is, then I’ve been wrong since I was a teenager.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you were my first crush. The person who helped me figure out I was gay.” Jordan looked me right in the eye. “I didn’t quite understand it when I was a kid, but by the time I was fourteen—well, let’s just say that this, right here?—is a scenario I’ve played out many times before in my head.” He grinned. “And it was even better than I hoped.”

I stared at him. So much for me wrapping my mind around this. Everything he said just made me more confused. How could he have liked me back then, when I didn’t even like myself?

His smile faltered after a moment. “Cam? Could you say something, maybe? I kind of just confessed that I’ve had a crush on you for upwards of a decade, and getting nothing but silence in response is a little terrifying.”

“Can I take you home?” I said, breathless.

Jordan grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

I couldn’t technically take Jordan anywhere, since I’d biked over, but I let him slip out of The Port Hole first and met him at The Roastery ten minutes later. He was sitting on a bike of his own when I got there.

“Borrowed it from Levi,” he said. “Figured it was slightly less conspicuous than borrowing his car.”

I frowned. “Shit. Do you think he’ll notice that we’re both not at the dance?”

“Maybe, but I don’t think he’ll put it together.” Jordan smiled. “And even if he does, I’ve waited way too long for this to let my brother stop it. Take me home and ravish me.”

The ride back took us along curving island roads, cresting high bluffs, then dipping low to skim the sand in isolated bays. My cabin was on a windy promontory on the south side of Tolliver, in the middle of a wildflower meadow. We biked up the winding dirt path and leaned the bikes under the eaves on the far side of the house.

I headed for the front door, but Jordan just stared, first at the meadow, then at the coastal forest nestled in the ravine on the far side of my property, and finally at the ocean itself.

“You live here?” he said.

“Yeah.” I made a face. “It’s kind of small. And rustic. I’m sorry, I don’t usually have lots of visitors.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. It’s amazing.”

He wanted a tour of the property, but it was dark enough that there wasn’t much to show him aside from the shadowy garden on the west side.

“Nice melons,” he said with a grin.

The tour of the cabin itself took even less time, since it was so small, but Jordan seemed taken with the retro kitchen, and the bathroom with its floor-to-ceiling reclaimed windows that looked out over the ocean.

When we got back to the main room, I cleared my throat. “Do you, uh, want to see the bedroom?”

“No,” Jordan said, laughing. “No, I biked all the way out here just to admire your vintage kitchen appliances.”

“I didn’t want to sound pushy.”

He stepped in close, then pulled his shirt off over his head. He dropped it to the floor and put a hand on my chest.

“I officially give you permission to sound pushy.” His voice tugged at me like the ocean. “To be pushy, really. Push away.”

I swallowed. “There’s something else I should tell you. When I said I didn’t really have any experience, I, uh—I didn’t just mean with guys.” I made myself meet his gaze. “I don’t have any experience, period.”