Push & Pull (The Midwest Series Book 2)

by Brigham Vaughn

  It got a little tricky when it came to mascara, but when Lowell was done, he held Brent’s jaw in his hand and tilted his head back and forth examining his work. “Looking good.”

  “Can I see?”

  “Let me do your hair first. I have that styling wax from the salon here.”

  “You’ll have to teach me how to do that.”

  “Sure.”

  Lowell worked the styling wax into Brent’s hair, gently pulling and tugging. Brent’s eyes closed and he let out a little hum of contentment. “That’s feels nice.”

  “Too bad I didn’t know you liked having your hair pulled before you cut it all off,” Lowell teased.

  Brent looked up at him then, and Lowell froze, his heart beating much too fast in his chest. Brent reached out and grabbed Lowell’s upper thighs. He was still wearing the trousers he’d had on earlier, but even through the fabric, he could feel the heat of Brent’s skin.

  There was something so open and trusting in Brent’s expression that it made Lowell want to drop his head and press their lips together. Never mind the sticky gloss he’d just applied.

  Brent tightened his grip and pulled Lowell a little closer. They stayed in that position for the longest time, looking at each other, their shallow breathing the only sound in the room except for the ESPN commentator.

  Lowell wanted to kiss Brent so bad he could taste it.

  But he knew if he gave in to the urge he wouldn’t want to stop. And he ran the risk of ending up right back where they were before, sniping at each other. No, better to do the responsible, adult thing and stay friends.

  Reluctantly, Lowell let go of Brent’s head and gave him a fake smile. “All set. You can look in the mirror now.”

  He pulled back and for a moment, Brent didn’t seem to want to let go, but after a split second, he dropped his hands, and Lowell was able to flee to the bathroom to wash his hands.

  June 6, 2013 – Milwaukee, Wisconsin

  Brent

  Brent sat on the bed, staring after Lowell. They’d come very close to ... something. What, exactly, Brent wasn’t sure, but he knew he hadn’t imagined the way Lowell had looked at him. It had been soft and needy, a glimpse behind the charming but slightly aloof persona he showed most of the time.

  Brent had wanted to drag Lowell down onto his lap and kiss the shit out of him. He’d been about to, but something in Lowell’s gaze had warned him not to, and when Lowell broke the mood, he knew it was for the best.

  It is for the best, isn’t it? It had to be. They had hundreds of miles and almost six weeks to go. They couldn’t fuck up their friendship now.

  The sound of water running in the bathroom reminded him that Lowell had just done his hair and makeup, and he wanted to see what it looked like. Whatever the result, a big part of him had enjoyed Lowell touching him. Brent stood and examined himself critically in the mirror. His skin seemed to sort of glow, and the darker eyelashes made his eyes look bigger than usual. His lips looked soft, and he wondered if it was what had made Lowell want to kiss him. Because he was sure the feeling had been mutual.

  The clothes felt snug compared to what he normally wore, but he had to admit the light-colored tank made his tan look deeper and showed off his biceps and shoulders. He turned to look at himself from the back and admired his ass for a moment. Damn. Okay, maybe Lowell was onto something with the more narrowly cut shorts.

  He liked the way he looked at the moment. Although, he couldn’t imagine wearing it back home in Zeeland. He’d get so much shit for it from the people he’d grown up with. And the guys on the hockey team would have a fucking field day. Except Nathan, of course. Should he post this on social media? The new, gayer Brent Cameron unveiled.

  Lowell walked out of the bathroom, staring at him with bright, expectant eyes. “What’s the verdict?”

  “I still look like me. Just ... gayer.”

  Lowell rolled his eyes. “And here I thought we were making progress.”

  Brent grinned. “Hold up now. I never said anything was wrong with looking gay. I look damn good like this.”

  Lowell snorted. “I am starting to rub off on you.”

  “So what time does this thing start?” Brent asked.

  “Well, the parade doesn’t start until two,” Lowell said. “So we’ve got a few hours. But as soon as I finish getting ready, we can go check out the vendors and entertainment.”

  ***

  In the middle of the crowds at PrideFest, Brent hardly knew where to look. There were people everywhere. Milling around, talking, laughing. Hugging. Most of them were dressed—or barely dressed—in every shade of the rainbow at once. There were Pride flags in color combinations Brent had never seen, much less knew what they represented. It blew his mind how open everyone was. And Lowell was right. It was the biggest cross section of types of people he’d ever seen in his life.

  Lowell had been in a great mood since they’d arrived, bubbling over with excitement as he showed Brent around. He was amazed about how at home Lowell seemed, laughing and flirting with strangers—men and women alike—so Brent assumed he was just being playful. Thanks to Lowell, Brent didn’t think he looked out of place, but he still felt slightly alien.

  The other problem was that he could hardly keep his eyes off Lowell’s ass. The shorts he wore were hardly bigger than the Andrew Christian swimsuit he’d worn. They were tiny and striped, and they made Brent pay way too much attention to the exact curve they covered. It was going to be a very, very long day. It was also scorching hot, and Brent was sweaty as hell. He couldn’t imagine how the rainbow eyeshadow Lowell had done hadn’t run all over his face, but somehow, he looked as cool and fresh as when he’d put it on.

  “Sorry, am I going too fast?” Lowell asked over his shoulder.

  “I’m just trying to take it all in,” Brent admitted. “There’s so much to see.”

  “Isn’t there?” Lowell glanced toward a booth where several hot guys wearing glitter and not a whole lot else were dancing. Lowell tugged at Brent’s arm. “Ooooh. We should go check that out.”

  Laughing, Brent followed Lowell, who smiled at the guys advertising their wares. There were a couple in front of the booth and a few more behind the table. “Looking good, boys,” Lowell said as he sidled up to it. “Your marketing tactics are definitely working.”

  “Glad to hear it,” the redheaded one said as he gave Lowell an up and down glance.

  “I hope you’re wearing sunscreen though,” Lowell said. He patted the guy’s bare shoulder. “You’ll burn in a hot minute.”

  “We are,” the blond, beefy guy said. “Promise.”

  Brent smiled at Lowell’s concern for complete strangers. Underneath all of Lowell’s bossiness ran a thread of genuine concern for everyone around him. Unlike most people, who didn’t give a shit about anyone outside of their immediate circle of friends and family, Lowell seemed to worry about everyone. He was also convinced he knew best, but Brent wasn’t entirely sure he was wrong. Maybe the world would be a better place if Lowell could boss everyone around and get them to behave.

  Lowell’s excited little wiggle as he examined the underwear displayed for sale distracted Brent from his thoughts. “Ooh, look at these! I love them.”

  He held up a pair of blue and white striped briefs in a V-pattern designed to show off a guy’s package. Brent pictured Lowell wearing them and gulped. He’d never really understood the appeal of skimpy underwear in the past, but he was beginning to. “They’d look good on you,” he said a little hoarsely.

  Lowell shot him a sidelong glance. “You should get pair too, Brent. See anything you like?”

  “Um, why don’t you pick out something,” Brent suggested as he glanced at everything on display, a little overwhelmed by the selection. “You’re better at that.”

  “I think you’d look amazing in these,” the Asian guy behind the table said as he held up a pair of white briefs.

  Lowell reached for them. “Oooh, he’s right. It would be perfect agai
nst your skin.”

  “What size?” the vendor asked.

  “Medium, I think. Brent has those nice narrow hips but his glutes are pretty full from hockey,” Lowell said with a wink.

  “Let me go grab a medium. Our selection on the table is getting a little thin.”

  “Hockey, huh?” the other guy, who was shaved bald with a hairy chest, looked him over. “Damn. That’s hot.”

  “You should have seen him on the ice,” Lowell retorted. “Smokin’.”

  “How many of my games did you see?” Brent asked, amused. His face felt hot though, and it wasn’t from the sun beating down.

  “All of the home games, I think. Well, maybe I missed one during junior year when I had the flu. But definitely the rest. And the away games when I could manage them.”

  “I didn’t realize you were one of our biggest fans,” Brent said.

  “I probably hold the record for most sporting events attended in a four year period at Western,” Lowell said with a little shrug. “Now hand over the underwear so I can buy.”

  “You have spent a stupid amount of money on me today,” Brent argued. “Let me get them for both of us. Please.”

  “Uh oh, domestic squabble ahead,” the blond guy muttered under his breath. Brent didn’t bother to argue this time. If people wanted to think he and Lowell were a couple ... what did it matter?

  “Oh, fine.” Lowell handed him the striped pair. “If it makes you happy.”

  Brent paid for their purchases and accepted the bag with a smile.

  Lowell kissed his cheek when he was done. “Thanks. That was sweet of you.”

  Brent gestured to his clothes and haircut. “You paid for all of this.”

  Lowell just waved it off and turned to the guys modeling the underwear out front. “You guys look amazing. Can I get a picture before we go?”

  “Of course. You can get right in the middle of this sandwich any time you like,” the redhead said with a grin.

  “Ooh, Brent, will you take a pic?” Lowell asked as he inserted himself between the two guys.

  “Sure.”

  Lowell struck a dramatic pose, and Brent grabbed his phone to take a photo of all three of them. “Got it.”

  “Thanks, boys!” Lowell said with a grin.

  The redhead placed a loud, smacking kiss on Lowell’s cheek, leaving glitter in his wake. “Any time, cutie.”

  “Now you,” Lowell instructed Brent. “Give me your bag, and I’ll take it with my phone.”

  “Um, okay.” Brent felt slightly awkward as he posed between the two guys, but they didn’t hesitate to put their arms around him. Not that he was complaining about being sandwiched between two hot, muscular guys.

  “Looking good!” Lowell said after he glanced at his phone screen. “Thanks.”

  Brent walked over to Lowell, who waggled his fingers at the models. “Bye, boys. Have fun today!”

  “I think the parade is starting soon,” Brent said as they walked away. “Where are we supposed to go?”

  “Over there,” Lowell pointed to the far end of the street. “We can come back and check out the rest of the vendors after.”

  Brent enjoyed the parade. In some ways, the cheering crowds reminded him of the home games he’d played when the spectators were really fired up, and he could feel their energy and excitement. That was one of the biggest things he was going to miss now that he’d retired from playing.

  By the end of the parade, Brent had half a dozen colorful beaded necklaces and a handful of candy that had been thrown by people on the floats.

  They wandered the booths for another hour or so, not buying much but enjoying what was offered and talking with the vendors. Brent got a bratwurst from a food cart and shared some cheese curds with Lowell. Mostly, he spent a lot of time people watching.

  There were drag queens and furries and people in leather gear and all sorts of things Brent had never imagined would all come together in one place. People old enough to be his grandparents. And lots of families. Gay couples and lesbian couples with kids were everywhere. It surprised him.

  “Have you ever thought about having kids?” he asked, pausing between booths.

  Lowell looked startled. “Oh, someday, I suppose. The idea gives me the heebie-jeebies at the moment, but in ten or fifteen years, probably. There’s no way I’d only have one though. Being an only child was miserable. I’d want two.”

  “Huh.”

  “What? Did you figure I’d say no kids, ever?”

  “Kind of,” Brent admitted. “I mean, you’re anti-relationship and—”

  “I’m not anti-relationship. I can see how happy it makes Caleb to be with Nathan.”

  “Right, but for yourself.”

  Lowell sighed. “Honestly, I’m scared shitless of relationships. My parents are pretty cold with one another, so that doesn’t exactly inspire me. And after I got dicked over by Micah ... I don’t know. I just can’t see myself trusting someone enough to let down my guard, you know?”

  The thought made Brent a little sad. “I really had no idea Micah was such a dick to you. I swear.”

  Lowell gave him a soft little smile and patted his arm. “It’s okay, sweets. You fucked him; you didn’t raise him. I don’t blame you for his bad behavior.”

  “Yeah, but I almost feel bad being his friend now. Except, I’m not sure he has anyone else.”

  “That’s what happens when you treat people like shit and hide who you are from them,” Lowell said, his tone philosophical. “But it is sad. And I can’t help but think that someday he’s going to wind up very, very lonely.”

  “I think he already is,” Brent pointed out. “He is in a tough spot when it comes to his career though,” Brent said. “I mean, he’s playing for the Cougars, and there’s a real chance he’ll get called up to the majors.”

  “Oh, I get that,” Lowell said. “I feel sorry for him, honestly. But there are a lot of people who have been in that position, and I can’t believe they’ve all been as hateful as him.”

  “No, probably not.”

  Lowell shook his head as if to clear it. “I, for one, am tired of talking about him. How about we actually enjoy the rest of the day. We’re out. We’re hot. And there is plenty of fun to be had.” Lowell did a little twirl, making Brent smile. “You up for hitting a bar before we check out some of the live entertainment?”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  ***

  It was late evening by the time they returned to the hotel. Brent was exhausted and sweaty but happy. It had been a great day, and Brent was really glad he’d gone.

  “I’m dead,” Lowell said with a noisy sigh as he flopped on his back on the mattress. “But that was fabulous. Milwaukee knows how to put on a great Pride.”

  “I’d like to check out Chicago’s sometime,” Brent admitted. He took a seat next to Lowell, perpendicular to him.

  Lowell lifted his head to look at him. “Well, if you decide to stay in Chicago, that would be easy enough.”

  “I’m seriously considering it,” Brent admitted. “I really liked the vibe of the city.”

  “IIT is a great school,” Lowell said. “And I love Chicago. But I’m definitely biased.”

  “It’s definitely the top of my list. And your dad’s offer sweetened the pot.” He frowned. “Would that bother you if I talked to him more about it?”

  “The internship? Of course not. You’d be crazy not to. That’s an incredible opportunity.”

  “Yeah.” Brent shrugged. “But I don’t want to be a dick either. Your dad is kind of an asshole, and I don’t want to do it if it will make things worse for you.”

  An expression of surprise flickered across Lowell’s face. “That’s sweet of you, but if you want the internship, you should go for it. I don’t want you to miss out.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I guess I’ll give it another day or two to think it over, but I think I’ll probably email him and tell
him I’m interested.”

  “Good.” Lowell lay back again, looking relaxed and content. Brent poked his side and made him yelp. “What was that for?”

  “You should go shower before you fall asleep.”

  “Ughh, you’re right,” Lowell said with a sigh. “You sure you don’t want to go first?”

  “Nope. I’m going to order some food. You want anything?”

  Lowell shrugged. “I’m not starving. If you get something I can eat, maybe I’ll just have a few bites of that, if you’re okay with it.”

  “Sure, works for me.”

  Brent quickly found a local place that delivered chicken wings, and he ordered some boneless barbeque ones along with a salad. While he waited for the delivery, he posted a few pictures on social media from the day at Pride. Lowell had posted a few of his already too, and Brent went through and liked them, along with a bunch of comments.

  A few minutes later, a text notification popped up. One message from Micah Warner.

  What the fuck happened to you, man? Spending all this time with a guy like Lowell is making you so faggy.

  Brent scowled at the screen. Dude, that was totally uncalled for. Don’t be an asshole.

  I’m just saying I don’t know what you’re doing with him. Posing with underwear models and drag queens and crap? You used to be a cool guy. You didn’t feel like you had to flaunt shit.

  What I used to be was completely terrified of getting outed, Brent typed. And what is your fucking problem with Lowell?

  Brent was pretty sure he knew exactly what Micah’s problem was. From what Lowell said—and he had no reason not to trust Lowell on this—Micah had developed feelings for Lowell. When things had ended, he’d gotten bitter and resentful and lashed out. But Lowell didn’t deserve that.

  I’m just saying I’m not risking my career. I unfriended you everywhere. I can’t be associated with shit like that.

  You do what you need to do, Brent replied. But it made him sad. Mostly because he couldn’t imagine living a life that was as sad and lonely as the one Micah had. In five or ten years, when Micah was retired, would there be anyone at all he hadn’t pushed away?