There's a twist in his chest. A fluttering in his heart. His lungs squeeze, but it doesn't feel like he’s suffocating. A buzz runs through his veins. He looks away, nodding just a fraction as he whispers, "I'll give him a chance."
The hand on his shoulder squeezes. "Thanks, Kyle. I don't think you'll regret it. Who knows? Maybe he'll be good for you, too." He looks up in time to catch her wink, and with a smile, she stands. "Well, I was on my way to the library for a study group, so I better get going. But it was nice meeting you!"
"Yeah," he says, smiling shyly. "You, too."
She waves and walks away, and he lifts his hand in a small semblance of the same gesture before it falls back down to his keyboard. She isn't what he expected from one of Jake's ex's, nor what he expected from Jake's best friend, but he finds that he likes her. There's just something about her that puts him at ease.
But enough about Jake. Enough about Liddy. He has work to do.
Unfortunately, that's easier said than done.
He has an increasing problem focusing. He keeps checking the time in the corner of his screen, frowning when he realizes barely any time has passed since the last time he checked. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize why he's so frustrated at the time.
Jake.
He wants it to be later so he can be with Jake again. Date or not, he just wants to hang out with him, and that's stealing focus away from his work. Cry Thunder has been his sole focus for so long that it's strange and new to find something else nagging at his mind.
His thoughts drift back to that morning. To Jake's lips on his. On his neck, teeth grazing against his collarbone. To the feeling of Jake's weight settling over him, between his legs, pushing down on him and pinning him to the bed. Of the tantalizing feeling of skin on skin, and the sparks that raced down his spine. The heat building low in his gut as Jake moved atop him, grinding against him. The feeling of his hardness pressed against Kyle's, a feeling he's always wondered about but been too embarrassed to dwell on for too long.
The sound of Jake's breath, fast and heavy and labored. The sight of him furrowing his brows, lips pinching as Kyle's name shuddered on his lips.
Them in the shower, bodies bare and skin slick as Jake picked him up. His legs locking around Jake's narrow hips as Jake pushed his back to the cold tile. Body hard and broad and firm, half chub pushing against his ass with interest as Jake's lips devoured his neck—
Kyle swallows hard, slamming his laptop closed. He has a problem. A very big problem. He looks around the quad, but no one is paying him any mind. Then he glances down, blanching at the obvious erection pushing against the seam of his jeans.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
He closes his eyes tight, trying to will it away, but his thoughts keep drifting back to Jake. To his large, calloused hands and how they felt on his—
Fuck.
He packs his bag quickly, standing and holding it awkwardly in front of him as he hurries to the student union. It's closer than his dorm, and this is an emergency. No one gives him more than a curious glance, and he hurries past them with his eyes firmly on the ground to hide his flush. The bathroom, thankfully, is blissfully empty.
He locks himself in one of the stalls, drops his bag to the ground, and leans back against the stall wall. His hand is at the front of his pants in seconds, shaking fingers fumbling with the button and zipper. His other hand covers his mouth, muffling his heavy breaths as he pulls himself out.
He strokes himself quickly and roughly, desperate to get it over with before anyone comes in. Panicking but unable to stop, he remembers the feeling of Jake's hand, of his lips, of his body—
And he comes embarrassingly quickly, a high-pitched whine slipping from between his fingers. He stands there, dazed and shaking as he comes down from his high, his breathing slowly starting to regulate.
Then he cleans himself up as best he can, grateful that his hand caught most of it and there's no obvious mess on his jeans to show his shame.
Oh god, his shame. It rushes through him, sour and sickening, settling like lead in his stomach. He just jerked himself off to Jake in a public bathroom. After Jake had gotten him off just that morning. How fucking pathetic can he be?
His downward spiral is interrupted by the sound of his phone going off. He jumps, scrambling for it and. nearly dropping it in the toilet. His heart hammers in his chest as he rushes out of the bathroom, automatically swiping to answer the call without really thinking about it.
"Hello?"
"Kyle!" His mom's voice comes from the receiver. His steps slow as he walks through the student union, aimless and restless. He doesn't want to go back out to the quad, not after what just happened, but he has no other destination in mind.
His mind wanders as his mom's voice drones on. He's stopped paying attention, but distantly recognizes that she's telling him about something that happened recently at home. His thoughts linger on Jake, confusion, guilt, shame, and hope swirling into a nauseating mix that makes him wish he had eaten a little slower.
Liddy said that he would be good for Jake, but is it even possible that whatever is happening between them can ever be anything more than just an experiment?
He thinks there's a small hope that something might come of it, but he dreads that there's a bigger chance that it'll blow up in their faces.
Chapter Fifteen
Getting dressed for dates is second nature by this point. He knows what clothes he has, and he knows what makes him look good. For this date though, he finds himself standing in front of his mirror longer than usual, a contemplative frown across his face as he mentally dissects his outfit. After an internal debate, he rolls up the sleeves of his button up to expose his forearms because he knows it makes them look good. He has nice, strong arms, so he might as well show them off.
He straps a watch to his wrist. He barely ever wears it, but it looks nice and it compliments the outfit. Plus, it has a way of making him look more sophisticated, which is never something he's really worried about with any of the girls he's dated, but with Kyle he doesn't want to look like a regular jock.
He sits on his bed while pulling on his shoes, a good step between formal and casual. Something to make him look good but without putting his outfit over the top. As he ties the laces, he mentally goes through a list. Deodorant? Check. Cologne? Check. Hair? Looking good. Clothes? Pristine and spot on. Phone, wallet, keys, check, check, check.
When he's done, he stands, taking a deep breath and shaking out his hands. Despite his nerves, he adopts a casual posture, smooth and confident, and hopes that he can manage to sneak out of his apartment without his roommates noticing.
He isn't that lucky.
As soon as he steps out into the living room, Marcus looks up from the couch. He does a double take, looking Jake over before letting out a long, low whistle. "Okay, so you are definitely going to see some girl."
Jake frowns. "How'd you know?"
Steve walks out of the bathroom at that moment, pauses when he sees Jake, then grins. "Dude, you're wearing your date clothes."
Jake sighs, moving quickly toward the door.
"Who's the lucky girl?" Steve calls after him.
Jake lifts a hand up, waving vaguely at him over his shoulder. "I'm too much of a gentleman to kiss and tell," he says vaguely, hoping it sounds confident and mysterious enough for them to stop pushing. It seems to do the trick, but then Marcus asks a completely different question.
"Dude, does Cindi know? She's gonna flip her shit when she finds out that you're dating already."
Jake snorts a short laugh, rolling his eyes as he reaches the door and wretches it open. "It's none of her business what I do. She dumped me."
"Ha! Amen to that. Good luck on your date!"
"Get some, Jake! Get some!" Steve calls after him as he closes the door.
Breathing out a sigh of relief, he hurries down the stairs and starts off toward campus to pick up Kyle. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, he wonders, not
for the first time and no doubt not for the last, if anything would change if he admitted he was seeing a guy. He knows it's not a decision he can make on his own, but that doesn't stop him from wondering, for better or for worse.
* * *
Kyle's door swings open mere seconds after he knocks, and Jake grins down at him, hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. Kyle's smile fades as he looks Jake up and down, smile morphing into a frown.
Jake feels his heart twist, nervousness trickling through his veins. "Is, uh... everything okay?"
Kyle looks him up and down once more, frown deepening. "I didn't realize we were... like this was a dressing up kind of date." Jake blinks, but before he can really process that statement, Kyle is stepping back and the door is starting to swing closed. "I need to change."
"Whoa!" Jake reaches out, stepping forward to catch the door before it closes. Kyle doesn't push it, already stepping away and deeper into his room. He doesn't try to stop Jake from entering after him, gently pushing the door shut behind him. "You don't have to change. It's fine. You're cute no matter what you wear."
Kyle barely seems to hear him. Even the compliment goes unnoticed as Jake watches Kyle's expression go into lock down, shutting off behind a torrent of thoughts and contemplation as he tugs open his drawers and rummages through them. "No," he mumbles, but Jake can't tell if it's to him or himself. "No, you put effort into dressing up, so I should, too. If this is a dress up date, then I should dress up. Plain and simple."
Jake finds himself smiling, amusement fluttering warm and fond in his chest. He's never heard anyone call it a dress up date before, and he thinks it's cute. It shows just how inexperienced and adorable Kyle is. Jake really doesn't mind if Kyle doesn't change, but if he insists, Jake isn't about to stop him. Not when Kyle is suddenly undressing, ripping off his shirt and tossing it to the floor and proceeding to stand shirtless with one hand on his hip and the other rubbing at his chin.
"I have to have something that's appropriate. Fuck, I never dress up. What's the dress code for a first date? What about this— no, not that shirt." He groans, and Jake knows that Kyle's awareness of him has faded as he gets wrapped up in his thoughts.
He leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and watches with increasing amusement as Kyle frets over his clothes. He pulls some out, holds them against himself, and then shakes his head before shoving them back. Jake has had the misfortune to watch some of his ex's get ready before, but they were never this adorable. He also has to admit he enjoys the show and the exposure of Kyle's bare skin.
It reminds him of this morning. Of what it felt like to touch him. To press him to the mattress, writhing beneath him. To have him pinned to the wall of the shower.
He has the increasing urge to touch, but he holds himself back. Now isn't the time. Date first. Woo him first. Show him he's actually interested in more than just his body. Jake's fingers curl into fists, and he simply resigns himself to waiting.
But he can only wait for so long before Kyle's frustration seems to be getting the better of him.
"Here," Jake steps forward, hand falling on Kyle's bare shoulder. He jumps, head whipping around to gape up at him, but he relaxes as Jake's hand slides soothingly down his back. "Let me help."
Kyle hunches, looking away. "Okay..."
Jake takes a moment to rummage through Kyle's clothes, moving through his dresser and his wardrobe. He has to admit, Kyle doesn't have a lot. It's mostly t-shirts and comfort clothes. He does, however, manage to find a button up and a bowtie. He's never been one for bowties himself, but as soon as he imagines one on Kyle, he can't let it go.
He helps Kyle get dressed. Nice jeans, nice shoes, a button up, and his bowtie. Kyle keeps his eyes averted the whole time, a pretty flush settled pink and rosy on his cheeks and on his chest. Jake lets his knuckles trail along Kyle's jaw as he steps back to admire his work. Kyle shifts awkwardly under Jake's gaze, but it only serves to make him even more adorable.
"Perfect," he says, smiling wide as he puts his hands on his hips.
Kyle tugs uncertainly at his collar. "Thanks," he mumbles. "I, um... I'm a little nervous."
"I know," Jake says stepping in close to wrap Kyle up in a hug, pulling him to his chest. His heart stutters when Kyle automatically wraps his arms around Jake's waist, nuzzling into his chest. "But you don't need to be."
They leave, and Jake has to shove his hands deep in his pockets to resist the urge to reach out and take Kyle's hand.
* * *
This is awkward.
Far more awkward than Jake was expecting, and far more awkward than things had been the night before. At least then they had alcohol to loosen their tongues and push them in the right direction. Now, seated at a nice Italian restaurant a little ways out of town, they sit in silence. Jake rests his chin in his palm, free hand idly tapping at the table and picking at grooves in the wood. Kyle sits across from him, fidgeting with his sleeves and picking at his napkin. Jake idly muses that it's a good thing the napkin is cloth because paper would be shredded by now.
Jake's eyes wander the room. The lighting is dim, a candle on each table. There are a few people here, but none he recognizes, and mostly older couples. Soothing music plays, and it creates an atmosphere that feels private and intimate.
"Sorry."
His eyes snap back to Kyle, brows furrowing as Kyle scowls down at the napkin in his lap. "For what?" Jake asks, bewildered.
One of his shoulders rises and falls in a weak shrug. A bitter, dry laugh escapes his lips. "For being so awkward. I'm not... very social. I don't know how to do—" He looks up, but carefully avoids eye contact as he waves a hand around in an annoyed gesture. "This."
Jake feels a prickle of doubt shiver down his spine, cold and sobering. Dates are common enough for him. First date jitters are also common. But he never considered dragging someone out who doesn't like the idea of dates. Especially since last night they were fine.
"So you want to make games," Jake says, abruptly changing the subject as the memory filters by. It seems like a safe enough topic, and one that Kyle actually enjoys, and he hopes it'll help clear some of the discomfort from the air.
Kyle stiffens, eyes widening as he finally looks at Jake. "I... did I tell you that?" There's a blush on his cheeks that Jake can see even in the dim lighting.
He chuckles. "You touched on it last night."
"Oh," he clears his throat, shifting in his seat as he sits up a little straighter, lifting his chin. There's a defensiveness in his eyes and a pride in his posture. "Yeah, I wanna design and code games."
Jake perks up, leaning more onto the table as he asks, "That's really cool. Are you working on anything now?"
Kyle's eyes light up, and the ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. "I am. It's called Cry Thunder, and I've been working on it for a couple years now."
He goes on, and on, and on, and on. A fantasy MMORPG unique in design and coding custom made by Kyle himself. He launches into a description of it, getting side tracked onto tangents where he rants and complains about other RPGs and the downsides to them, going on to explain how he plans on fixing those problems and annoyances in his own game.
He talks, and Jake listens. They pause long enough to order their food, and Kyle continues with minimal prompting from him. And after the description of the game is over, Kyle delves into the details of his plans, and...
It's then that it really starts to dawn on Jake just how smart Kyle really is. He's really, really fucking smart. Like, Jake knew he was smart. He knew he got straight A's and barely had to work for them. He knew Kyle was a little nerd, and that was part of his reasoning for asking for tutoring in the first place.
He just hadn't realized that Kyle was far more than book smart. He was creative, too. He took math and numbers and coding and made art with it. He designed things. He looked at problems and came up with creative solutions. He was creating something amazing all on his own, based on his own vision and his own drive.
>
It's more than a little impressive, as well as extremely intimidating.
It even becomes a little humiliating when Kyle really starts to get into it and Jake has to ask him to kind of dumb it down for him. Explain things in layman's terms because he wants to understand, he really does, he just can't. He doesn't know what an algorithm is, and he doesn't understand any of what Kyle's unique damage calculations mean for actual gameplay.
For the first time in his life, Jake starts to feel like the person he's interested in might be out of his league. Which is a strange and alienating feeling. He's always been with hot girls on the same level as him, but Kyle... Kyle is adorable, cute, funny, kind, and way, way too smart for him.
Kyle doesn't just like him because he's hot, right? Oh god, is Jake the hot accessory? No, there's no way Kyle is that shallow, right?
"Jake?"
He blinks, lifting his head from where he had been staring at the table. He doesn't realize he's been frowning until he feels it relax. "Yeah?" It's only then that he realizes he's been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he was tuning Kyle out.
Kyle shifts in his seat, fingers twisting in the cloth napkin on the table. "Sorry for rambling," he mutters, eyes downcast.
Guilt rolls hot and fresh in his gut, and Jake instinctively reaches out, putting a hand on Kyle's. "No, man, it's fine. Really. You're cute when you get excited about things." It's not a lie, and Jake feels like a jerk for not just appreciating it and instead going off on his own pity party.
Kyle's smile is small and shy. "Thanks." He pulls back his hand quickly when their food arrives, a blush on his cheeks as he refuses to make eye contact with their waiter. When they're alone again, Kyle asks, "So what about you? What kinda stuff do you do?"
Jake's smile is wry. "I play baseball."
Kyle rolls his eyes, smile still in place as he picks at his food. "I know that."
Jake chuckles, but there's no humor in it. An attempt to lighten the mood falls flat as it fills with self-deprecation. "No really, that's about all I do. Ever since I was a kid, my life revolved around sports. My grades in high school were okay, but I've always just kinda been, you know, the dumb joke." He tries to make it sound like a joke, but Kyle's smile falls. "No one really took me seriously, and I coasted by on average grades. Then I got into college on a baseball scholarship, and just kinda... coasted again." He laughs again, this time dry and far more bitter. He looks down, poking at his pasta with his fork. "Until now, anyway." He shrugs. "No one's ever really thought much of me, so they never challenged me. I've never been good for much other than throwing a ball."
Trading Teams Page 12