Push & Pull (The Midwest Series Book 2)

by Brigham Vaughn

  Brent stifled a groan. He could pretend he was staring at Lowell and thinking about Lowell’s workouts, but the way his body responded to Lowell’s proved him a liar. He turned back to face the window, painfully aware that his boxers and cargo shorts wouldn’t do enough to conceal the kind of boners he got around Lowell at the slightest provocation.

  The dude was hot.

  He wished he’d meant it earlier when he’d said that he didn’t want anything to happen between them on this trip, but he’d been lying. He couldn’t get the image of Lowell’s pale, bare chest and the narrow dark line of hair below his navel that disappeared under the towel out of his head.

  He jerked in surprise when Lowell brushed past him. “Just need to get some stuff out of my suitcase,” Lowell murmured, resting a hand on his upper arm as he slid between Brent and the bed. “I’m not making a move on you, I swear. I just forgot underwear and my toiletry kit.”

  “Can I hop in the shower?” Brent asked, his voice coming out a lot gruffer than he intended. He decided to ignore Lowell’s comment about making a move on him. No matter how he answered, it wouldn’t end well. He’d already put his foot in his mouth too many times today.

  “Sure,” Lowell said. “I can use the mirror in here. Just let me grab my clothes out of the bathroom first. I hung them to release the wrinkles, but I can use the steamer I brought if that wasn’t enough. Feel free to borrow it if you need to, by the way. While we’re on this trip, what’s mine is yours.”

  Brent raised an eyebrow at the idea of being that concerned about how his clothes looked. But Lowell’s offer had been generous, so he kept his mouth shut. He’d learn from his mistakes if it killed him.

  Brent walked over to the bed and unzipped his duffle, pulling out the first clothes he could find. They were wrinkled as hell, but who cared? Lowell apparently, but Brent had never given a shit in the past, and he wasn’t about to start now. This was a vacation. The point was to be lazy as fuck about stuff like that.

  Brent reached the bathroom door just as Lowell stepped out, and he stopped abruptly. They were only a few inches apart, and Brent gripped the clothes in his hand tighter to keep from reaching out to rip the towel from around Lowell’s lean hips and doing something he’d really regret.

  Lowell smiled at him as if he knew exactly what Brent was thinking. “You let me know if you need someone to scrub your back in the shower, okay, sweets?”

  Brent brushed past him without responding. He quickly closed the door behind him, but not before catching a glimpse of a perfectly toned ass as Lowell’s towel dropped to the floor.

  Brent leaned his forehead against the closed bathroom door.

  “I am so fucked,” he muttered under his breath.

  ***

  Lowell was fully dressed by the time Brent left the bathroom. In fact, he was wearing a pair of skinny jeans that molded around his ass and a mint green button down shirt with the sleeves folded up. His shiny brown hair was styled off his forehead, and he always reminded Brent of a male model, perfectly dressed and pouty, with cheekbones that didn’t quit.

  “You ready to go?” Brent asked, dumping his dirty clothes in his duffle bag. He was going to have to do laundry while they were on the road, but he’d worry about sorting it all out later.

  “Not quite. Can you give me a few minutes?”

  “Sure.” Brent sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. He’d left the TV on when he went in the bathroom and the game was still playing. “You could have changed the channel,” he pointed out, and Lowell gave him a perplexed look in the mirror as he smoothed something on his face.

  “Why the hell would I?”

  “Well, if you didn’t want to watch the game or whatever.”

  “Sweetie, I probably have a bigger ESPN package than you could begin to dream of,” Lowell said, putting the cap on a large white tube and pulling something else out of the bag on the table in front of him. He unscrewed something from a narrow silver tube that looked suspiciously like the mascara Brent’s sisters were forever leaving on the bathroom counter at his parents’ house. “I eat, sleep, and breathe baseball this time of year.”

  He lifted something to his right eye, and Brent blinked. It was mascara. He tried not to stare as Lowell applied it, his lips lightly parted as he brushed it through his lashes. “What’s the score? I missed the last announcement, and I can’t see the screen from here.”

  Brent cleared his throat. “Oh, uh, tied at two.”

  “Damn, this is going to be close.”

  A few minutes later, Brent glanced over to see Lowell touch something to his lips, then gently smear it across them. It left them shiny and soft looking with a pink tint.

  When he finished, he caught Brent’s gaze in the mirror. “You’re staring, honey. Never seen a boy apply makeup?”

  “Well, no,” Brent admitted. “I haven’t. And I figured you just looked like that all the time. All ... soft and pretty.” The tips of his ears turned red and hot when he realized what he’d said. “I mean, I didn’t know you wore makeup.”

  “Just enhancing my natural beauty.” Lowell ran a fingertip under his bottom lip and wiped it on a tissue. He tossed the wadded up tissue into the trash with a graceful swish. “Now, do you mind if we stick around to watch the rest of the game? It’s nearly over, and I want to see the end. Unless you’re too hungry to wait?”

  Brent’s stomach was rumbling, but he was too flabbergasted to argue. Lowell switching gears from talking about makeup to sports was fucking with his head. “Uhh, no, that’s fine. We can watch the game.”

  Lowell’s earlier comment about him being recently out of the closet hit home all of a sudden. The guys he’d been involved with had spent most of their lives playing sports and hiding who they were. Brent really never had gotten to know anyone like Lowell and Ricky on anything but a surface level before. Guys who weren’t afraid to be themselves.

  Brent watched Lowell settle on the other bed and neatly cross his legs, staring intently at the screen. Lowell seemed completely immersed in the game, and he cheered loudly when the Cubs scored another run. Brent shook his head.

  It was going to be one hell of a summer that was for sure.

  Chapter Four

  May 26, 2013 – Chicago, Illinois

  Lowell

  “How do you feel about an Irish pub?” Lowell asked as they left the hotel. Brent had been quiet while they watched the game and on the ride downstairs in the elevator.

  “Sure.”

  “There’s a good one that’s not too far from here—we can walk—then we can go to Boystown after.”

  “Okay.”

  Ugh. Enough with the one word replies. What the hell had he done to make Brent get all weird again? “You sure I’m not being too pushy?” he asked.

  Brent just shook his head.

  Lowell stifled a sigh and headed south on Clark Street. Brent’s mood swings were driving him up the fucking wall. He was starting to regret that he’d invited himself on this trip. Brent was being nice to him now—more or less—but he seemed really lost in thought, and Lowell couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing. Brent was a lot harder to read than Lowell had expected.

  He’d seemed slightly spooked by anything remotely flamboyant—meeting a drag queen and watching Lowell put on makeup had clearly been out of his comfort zone—so Lowell was hopeful that a nice masculine pub would relax him before they ended up in the middle of Boystown.

  When they were seated at a table on the outdoor patio behind the restaurant, Brent looked around and gave it an approving nod.

  “This is nice.”

  “Glad you like it,” Lowell said with a relieved little sigh.

  Brent looked over the menu for a moment. “Want to split some loaded pub chips?”

  “Sure.” Lowell doubted he’d eat many, but he’d nibble on a few. Anything to keep the peace right now.

  Along with the pub chips, Brent ordered a Guinness. Lowell tried not to wrinkle his nose and orde
red a Magner’s cider for himself.

  “Not a fan of stout, huh?” Brent asked when the waiter left.

  Surprised Brent had noticed his reaction, Lowell shook his head. “No. Too heavy. I can’t finish a whole one without feeling full. I’d never manage dinner.”

  “Got it.” Brent raked a hand through his hair, and Lowell tried to pretend he wasn’t ogling his biceps.

  “Besides, I’m saving room for dessert.” Lowell winked at him.

  “Oh, do they have good desserts here?” Brent turned the menu over.

  Chuckling, Lowell set down the list of specials. “They do, but I meant when we go to Boystown tonight. I plan to find a hunky jock and have some fun. Just because you and I are showing up together doesn’t mean we have to leave together, you know?”

  Brent’s mouth opened and closed again before he nodded.

  Their drinks and pub chips arrived a few minutes later, and they ordered their entrees before the waiter left. Brent dug into the chips, and at his prompting, Lowell put a few on his plate. When he brushed the pieces of bacon off, Brent shook his head.

  “You don’t like bacon?” He sounded appalled, and Lowell chuckled.

  “Not really. It’s too heavy and greasy for me.”

  “Freak,” Brent teased, and Lowell flashed him a smile. For the first time, Brent’s jokes felt like good-natured teasing between friends rather than barbed insults. He could work with that.

  Lowell shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called that.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes before Brent spoke. “Um, can I apologize?”

  “Sure. I’m always willing to listen to a hot guy grovel.” Lowell with a smirk. “But what are you apologizing for?”

  “Being an asshole.” Brent sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’ve been hot and cold with you, and I said a lot of shit I didn’t really mean. I want to apologize for all of that. I’m ... feeling weird, to be honest.”

  Lowell leaned in too, his brow furrowing with concern, “What do you mean?”

  “I just ...” Brent glanced down at his plate before meeting Lowell’s gaze again. “Look, I know I took my frustration with Nathan out on you. That was shitty.”

  “Well, to be fair, I did manipulate the situation somewhat,” Lowell admitted. “I was the one who told Nathan to keep you in the dark about the change in plans. I thought it would go over easier if we presented you with a plan rather than have Nathan cancel and leave you with no idea what was going to happen.” He took a sip of his cider. “I just couldn’t stand the thought of spending the whole summer dealing with Caleb moping around, missing Nathan, and I thought this was the perfect solution.”

  “Come on, it’s a win-win situation,” he’d said one evening a few weeks ago as they lounged around Caleb and Lowell’s apartment, and Nathan worried about how to tell his roommate he was going to cancel. “Brent won’t have to miss out on his trip, and you and Caleb won’t have to be apart.”

  “What’s in it for you?” Nathan asked. He lay with his head in Caleb’s lap as Caleb played with his dark curls. They really were disgustingly in love. Adorably, disgustingly in love. Lowell would have vomited all over except he didn’t want to damage his Tom Ford shoes. Plus, he was trying to be happy for his best friend. He was happy, actually, but seeing it was getting tiresome already.

  “I don’t have to spend the summer watching you two give me cavities,” Lowell said drily.

  Caleb glared at him. “And there’s nothing in it for you, right?”

  Grinning, Lowell stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. “Oh, there better be something in it for me.” He winked. “And it better be something big. Nathan, how well-hung is your roommate?”

  Nathan and Brent had been fuck buddies a few years ago so he should know better than anyone.

  The glare Caleb gave Lowell threatened to set him on fire. “Nathan, don’t answer that.”

  “Wasn’t planning on it,” Nathan said with a grin. “But, Lowell, I’m not sure this is such a good idea. I mean, I have nothing against you offering to go with Brent on the road trip. I’m just not sure showing up and surprising him is the answer.”

  Lowell waved off their concerns. “It’ll be fine. I’m very persuasive. He’ll be annoyed for an hour or so, then we’ll have a blast for the next two months.”

  “I should have talked to you about this,” Lowell admitted. “It was shitty of me to spring it on you, but I guess I was afraid you’d say no.”

  Brent gave him a half-smile. “I couldn’t have said no though, could I? Sure, I would have been pissed at Nathan for bailing no matter what, but I would have come around eventually and been glad that I could still do the trip. Honestly, I’m more pissed off about being manipulated than anything else.”

  Lowell winced. “Yeah, well, that’s all on me then. Don’t hold a grudge against Nathan because of what I did. I don’t want to cause problem between you guys.”

  Brent shrugged. “Nathan and I have gotten in plenty of fights, but we never stay mad at each other for long. We’ll figure it out eventually. I am sorry I flew off the handle and said shitty things about you though. I was really hurt by my best friend ditching me and the sudden change of plans. I don’t like feeling like I’ve been backed into a corner, but I definitely didn’t react well.”

  “Thanks for the apology. I can see why you were pissed, and I’m willing to take my share of the blame making you feel manipulated, so no hard feelings, okay? Let’s just have fun on this trip and forget the way it started.”

  “Yeah, sounds good.” Brent pushed the food around on his plate for a minute. “There’s one other thing though. I got all uncomfortable when you and Ricky were talking, and I’m sorry I said some shitty things after.”

  Lowell gave him a puzzled look. “Yeah, what was the problem there?”

  “I’m kinda weirded out by how ... out you are. And by the way you act.” Brent looked like he’d swallowed a bug. “And I know that makes me an asshole.”

  “Hey.” Lowell leaned forward and gently touched Brent’s hand. “I get it. I make people uncomfortable. And, to be honest, sometimes I enjoy making people uncomfortable.”

  Brent chuckled, his shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  “But I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable then. I was just catching up with a friend.”

  “Yeah, I’m just not used to”—Brent’s voice dropped to a whisper—“drag queens. I mean, I’ve never met a guy who does that.”

  Lowell smiled. “I get that too. This is all new to you. But you can be uncomfortable and unsure without acting like an asshole to me, you know,” he chided gently.

  “Right.” Brent scratched the back of his head. “And that’s what I should have done. I really am sorry.”

  “No hard feelings.” Lowell sat back in his seat, crossing his ankles and clasping his hands together. The part of him that was endlessly fascinated about what made people tick rose to the surface. “I do have a question though. What exactly made you uncomfortable?”

  “Umm, I guess what people would think?” There was a hint of vulnerability in Brent’s voice. “I spent high school and college hiding the fact that I’m gay. So I’m still adjusting to the idea that there aren’t going to be consequences when people find out. But it’s more than that. ’Cause the thought of someone thinking I was with Nathan doesn’t weird me out the way it does when I think about the reaction to me being with someone like ... well, you or a guy like Ricky. At least, when you’re being all ... flamboyant and stuff.”

  Lowell took a moment to consider his words. Some internalized homophobia wasn’t that surprising, especially given Brent’s previously closeted existence and a lifetime of sports. “You get a lot of credit for being able to see the difference,” he pointed out. “I can’t say I like it, but I’m not going to get pissed at you for it.”

  “I don’t want to be that guy,” Brent blurted out. “I really, re
ally don’t.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Hmm. Well, how about this? You can ask me any question that pops in your head over the next two months. I promise not to get pissed about it and answer it the best I can. You just have to promise to think before you judge.”

  Brent smiled. “Deal.”

  Clearing his throat, Lowell changed the subject. “So what did you think about the Cubs game?”

  Brent gave him a wry smile and sat back. “It wasn’t bad. Nelson tying things up in the eighth really set Russell up for that run in the ninth, huh?”

  “Yeah, Nelson’s having a hell of a rookie season,” Lowell agreed. “And the Cubs are leading the league in one-run victories.”

  Brent opened his mouth to respond as the waiter arrived with their food.

  “I can’t believe you ordered shrimp curry at an Irish pub,” Brent said a few minutes later as he was about to take a bite of his burger.

  Lowell pointed to himself. “Freak, remember?”

  Brent just smiled and shook his head.

  ***

  Boystown was fairly quiet—after all, it was a Tuesday night—but Brent still looked around like a kid at a carnival as they walked up North Halsted past restaurants, bars, and the neighborhood’s iconic rainbow metal landmarks.

  “It’s so cool that it looks just like a regular neighborhood. But, you know, with gay stuff. It totally blows my mind.”

  “Did you know that Boystown was the first officially recognized gay village in the United States?” Lowell asked.

  Brent shook his head. “No, but that’s awesome. Sorta surprising that it was in the Midwest though.”

  “Yeah, everyone expects it to be San Francisco or New York, I suppose.”

  “Top to Bottom?” Brent snorted as they walked past an ordinary brick building with a suggestive logo inviting people into the club. “That’s ... subtle.”

  Lowell shrugged. “That’s the point of Boystown; we don’t have to be subtle here. It’s actually a pretty famous bar. It originally opened in the 80s but it closed in the early 90s. It just re-opened recently, I guess. I’m not involved in the leather scene, but it’s an important part of Boystown history. We should go to the Leather Archives and Museum up in Rogers Park if we get a chance too.”