Splash by J.R. Hart

Author:J.R. Hart [Hart, J.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBTQIA+, Contemporary, romance, new adult, gay, cisgender, swimming pool, lifeguard, summer job, enemies to lovers, father/son relationship, multiple partners
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2020-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“Holy crap, Connor. It’s so girthy. How do you even get your mouth around that?” He half whispered it, half laughed as he said it. “Gosh, you’re really kinky if you can take something that big. I think I’m gonna need a second dick or something.”

I was chewing so I couldn’t respond right away, but I considered kicking him under the table for being so ridiculous in public. Once I could shift my bite of my burrito to my cheek, I was able to respond. “Oh my God, Tris, we’re in public. You can’t just say shit like that.” I almost choked on the burrito from laughter, and it was better I didn’t because he probably would have had a comment for that too. He would joke about something so immature and nonsensical, and I realized I wasn’t as old and mature as I wanted to think I was, because I found that, and him, to be hilarious.

Interacting with him at the burrito place felt good. There wasn’t pressure for it to be about secrets, like it was at work, or about sex, like it was at my place. At the local joint, which was practically a shack given the ramshackle way it was assembled, it was different. In those ratty, threadbare booths, we could talk. It also felt like it didn’t have to be as deep or dark of a conversation as we’d had earlier in my bedroom. Everything felt lighter and freer.

And, of course, it also didn’t suck that he could crack dick jokes about burritos if we were going and getting those for dinner. For this to be the worst summer of my life, it was shaping up to not be entirely shitty, provided I could keep talking to him, so I did. For an hour, it was just that: dick jokes and burritos and me trying to lean across the table and steal kisses as quickly as he stole chips from my basket. It was almost cute. I wasn’t used to bringing that much attention to myself, having some sort of weird PDA going on, but I didn’t entirely mind.

“So you thought I was mad at you?” he asked, and I wondered why we were doing this here, in the middle of a burrito place, instead of someplace we could properly talk about it, where I didn’t feel so self-conscious. A public display of affection felt far easier than an actual discussion about my feelings. So, I did what I thought I should do: gave a non-committal shrug and hoped my lack of actual answer answered his question enough to move on. “I wasn’t mad at you, Connor. Just so you know.”

“I told you to go fuck with James or whatever instead of me, then I came out of the bathrooms and you were gone,” I said. “Then you stayed gone. For like a week, even. So yeah, I mean, maybe you weren’t mad at me, but like I said earlier, the timing seemed a little…I don’t know, specific?” I half mumbled the words and failed to fully meet his eyes.

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