by Jack Harbon
When Jordan’s body finally, graciously gave way and allowed him inside, Rex’s toes curled, and a long, deep groan vibrated from his throat. He gave Jordan a moment to become adjusted to him before he drew his hips back. With a quick jerk, he was once again buried to the hilt, caressed by the tight heat of Jordan’s body.
His pace was steady, but it quickened with every stroke inside of Jordan. The man beneath him moaned, gripping the backs of his thighs as his back arched in desire. It was beautifully lewd watching Jordan spread himself open, inviting him to fill him over and over again.
Rex held nothing back, planting his hands on the bed on either side of Jordan’s head to give himself more leverage. His thrusts were harder, his strokes deeper, and Jordan’s entire body burned and vibrated and crackled like lightning.
He turned his head and squeezed his eyes, groaning as his body stretched to accompany every inch of Rex. The sting had only just subsided, substituted for the more powerful ecstasy of Rex’s dick. His breathing grew shallower, his lungs barely able to fill before the wind was nearly knocked out of him.
Again and again, Rex sent shockwaves through him and electricity racing down his spine. Jordan could just barely process the string of curses Rex let out. What he could perceive, however, was the man’s rough hand on his cheek, cupping his face. He stared up at Rex, saw the man’s eyebrows practically threaded together in concentration, and let out a moan that resonated from the deepest part of his chest.
That looked to be the magic word, the crack in Rex’s dam, because his hips jerked irregularly and his mouth fell agape, body shuddering as he reached his release. His hips moved violently, with all the finality of punctuation at the end of a sentence.
For a long while, the only sound that filled the room was that of ragged breathing. Rex’s heartbeat thudded in his ears, and it felt like a Herculean task just to roll off of Jordan and lie on his back. The peaceful absence of conversation felt like the perfect blanket lying over both of them, weighted with just enough pressure to satisfy them both.
The last time he’d felt this good was nothing more than a distant memory in Rex’s mind, slippery each time he tried to recall it. Needless to say, it hadn’t compared to sex with Jordan. Despite how chaste and wholesome he acted, Rex had always been certain there was another side to him that would be able to keep up with his own libido. This had just confirmed every last one of his suspicions.
“I was thinking,” he said, turning to face Jordan. “You should come help me with this garage sale I have going on next week.”
“Mm, that’s some sexy pillow talk you have there.”
Rex chuckled. “I’m serious.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m clearing out a lot of my nana’s stuff, and she had boxes full of books that you might like. Figured you might want first dibs before I send the rest to the library for donation.” Jordan’s eyes lit up, and Rex knew without a doubt that he’d made the right decision in pitching the idea to him.
“That’s awfully sweet of you,” Jordan said.
“I figured it’s only fair since I got rained on trying to help you out with your little club or whatever.”
Jordan shoved his shoulder, smiling and rolling his eyes. “Shut up. I’ll help you do the garage sale, mostly because I want those books. Maybe we could even pick one and see about reading it for the club.”
Rex grimaced hard. “Reading the same porn my grandma did sounds so fun.”
“Alright, fine, spoilsport. I’ll read them myself then.” He was silent, then suddenly added, “I think our grandmas would’ve gotten along.”
Rex turned to face him, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at him. “You think so? Why’s that?”
“They both loved the same books. Your nana sounds really headstrong and kind, just like mine. Plus, mine gets along with basically anyone as long as they don’t try to play her.”
Rex smiled fondly at the idea of Nana Bailey spending time with Jordan’s grandmother for weekly meetings at the book club Jordan told him she used to be in charge of. Nana would’ve insisted on going, and knowing her, he’d have probably been roped along as well.
Despite how sickly-sweet the idea was, Rex didn’t find himself turning away from it. He took in Jordan’s toothy smile and the way he seemed to fit perfectly up against his body, and his stomach clenched tight.
“I think they would’ve been great friends,” he said. And he meant it.
Nine
On Saturday morning, Rex was at Jordan’s front door before the sun had even risen over the hills. At first, Jordan was confused why the man was waking him up so early, then it hit him. The garage sale. Embarrassed to look so bummy, he invited Rex in and hurried upstairs to get dressed for the day. When he returned, there was more color in his brown skin and not an eye crusty in sight.
“I kind of liked your Walking Dead extra look,” Rex said as they walked out to the car.
“I’m about to Hershel your ass if you don’t shut up,” Jordan grunted, climbing into the driver’s side of his car.
“Someone’s grumpy when they don’t get their morning coffee.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Jordan hadn’t slept well at all the night before, but he wasn’t going to tell Rex that. By this point, he was well-versed in Rex-isms and knew that showing any kind of vulnerability opened him up to potential teasing. The last thing he was going to do was add fuel to the fire or paint a target on his head. That was why, rather than going into detail about his night spent tossing and turning, he headed directly to his favorite gas station.
“Fast Fill,” Rex said simply, looking up at the orange and cream-colored logo on the front of the building.
“You ever been here?”
“Nope. I’m a QuikTrip kinda man, myself.”
Jordan gave a conceding nod. “Fair enough, that’s better than Kum & Go, at least. Fast Fill is the convenience store.” He hopped out from the car once they were parked and pushed through the glass double doors.
“Jordan!”
He turned to the sound of the familiar voice and was greeted with a shock of pinky-peach hair on Valentin’s head. It made his skin look even more tan and was a stark contrast to the thick brown mustache above his lip. “Your hair!” he exclaimed.
“Lana convinced me to do it,” Valentin laughed, self-consciously running a hand through it.
“That girl will never not be a terror on all of Sweet Rose.”
Jordan had been friends with Valentin back in high school, before Jordan’s parents had passed away and he’d had to grow up within the span of a few months. Valentin had been the kind of guy that livened any room, never once shying away from the spotlight and all the pitfalls that came with it. He’d even been the reason Jordan decided to come out to his family—to mixed responses. Still, knowing that he wasn’t the only one in school had made him feel comfortable with himself.
Though they’d grown and gone their separate ways, Valentin was still a buddy and never hesitated to give him free coffee and snacks when he showed up. Jordan considered all the other gas stations passable, but none of them held a candle to Fast Fill for this reason alone.
Carrying their breakfast out to the car, Jordan waved at Turner, the other co-owner of Fast Fill as he headed into the building. As unassuming as Turner looked, with his perfectly styled mop of hair, clear golden skin, and well put-together polo and khakis, Jordan had heard of his reputation in school and knew all the trouble he’d gotten into. At the time, it was far too adventurous for him, but he’d always found his tenacity admirable.
“I always forget all the characters here,” Rex noted on the way to his home. He unwrapped his breakfast burrito and added, “Sometimes it makes me want to stay here.”
Jordan glanced his way. “Are you planning on leaving?”
“Once I get the house sold, yeah. Aside from seeing Amy, there’s no point in staying. Too many bad memories.”
The tone of Rex’s voice told him that the conversation
wasn’t going to go any deeper than this. Rather than pressing his luck, he smirked and said, “Can’t wait for you to sell the house, then.” Rex snorted, his mouth almost too full of food to smile back.
After finishing breakfast at Rex’s place, the two braced themselves for the long day of work ahead. Jordan’s incessant need to make everything perfect and presentable was an unintended perk that Rex quickly came to appreciate. Had he been left on his own, the garage and driveway would’ve looked like an F9 rolled through town and left Nana Bailey’s home a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
Not only that, but as meek as he might’ve appeared, Jordan had no problem helping him pick furniture up and set it outside as well. Before eight o’clock, they’d moved the dining room set to the garage, as well as her two guest bedroom sets and three racks of her clothes.
“I have to ask,” Jordan panted, doubling over after he’d placed down a heavy box of trinkets. “How much shit did Nana have?”
“A lot. She was a high-functioning hoarder. At least, that’s what she said. Having cleaned it all up, I’d say she was being generous with the ‘high-functioning’ part. You don’t even want to see half of the crap I threw away.”
“And you’re done packing everything up?”
Rex scoffed and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. Even worn out, Jordan couldn’t help but think about how good he looked, all sweaty and squinting from the bright sunlight. “I haven’t even touched the attic yet. That’s mostly family shit, though. Nothing anyone in town aside from nosy neighbors would want to buy.”
“You’d make plenty of money,” Jordan noted. In Sweet Rose, a guy couldn’t brush his teeth without someone down the street finding out and spreading it to five other people. That closeness was both a perk and a pitfall.
“Nana would come back from the dead to kill me,” he chuckled. Rex grabbed a box in the grass and carried it to the fold-out table in the garage. “These are the books, by the way. Finally found the right box.”
Jordan’s eyes grew to the size of saucers, and he nearly knocked over a rack of clothes to rifle through the box of dusty books. “Holy shit,” he gasped, pulling a novel out and inspecting it closely. “This is the only book Vivienne Hallaway ever published.”
“Who?”
Jordan made a face like Rex had just asked him the most offensive question ever. “Um…what do you mean, ‘who?’ You don’t know about our state representative’s foray into romance? Back in the ‘80s, Joan Holmes published a shifter romance that she tried to scrub from existence when she ran for office in the ‘90s. She basically had it pulled from print, and it was damn near impossible to find. Everyone clowned her for it, but she still won, and the romance community has kind of made a legend out of her.”
“So, they’re everywhere, then?”
Jordan looked up from the cover of the book he stroked with his finger. “They?”
“Romance writers. It’s not just women sitting at home writing while their kids take a nap, yeah?”
“Exactly,” Jordan said. “People think of this lonely cat lady substituting affection in real life for fake people kissing, but there are so many people of any gender writing this stuff.”
Rex took the book from him and flipped through it. “So many different people reading it, too. Is this thing worth any money?”
“Hell yeah. Goes for a few hundred online, especially one that looks this good.”
“Well, it’s yours. If you want it.”
“Are you serious?” Jordan couldn’t believe it. Three years ago, he’d considered splurging and buying a copy off eBay to add to his collection, but he just couldn’t justify it. It was still early on in his obsession with the genre, but he’d always dreamed of one day having a copy of Claws of Attraction for his shelf.
Rex shrugged. “Sure. I can’t think of anyone else Nana would rather give it to.”
Jordan covered his joy by opening the book and flipping through it. This was really his. He almost felt selfish for taking anything else from Nana Bailey’s collection, but Rex encouraged it, telling him that she’d want to share. With a little more encouragement, Jordan sifted through the box until he got his fill.
That alone made all the hard work of setting up—and the subsequent time that went into running the sale—worth every last bit of effort.
The garage sale had been far more profitable than Rex had ever imagined possible. They hadn’t gotten rid of all of Nana Bailey’s belongings like the racks of her clothes or all of her figurines, but what they did sell was quite substantial.
Two of her loveseats had been purchased by one of the managers at the Sunset Village motel, her dishes were now in the hands of a single mother with a huge fetish for posting old china on Instagram, and most surprisingly, nearly all the books Jordan left behind sold quite well.
To treat themselves for a day of hard work and as a sign of gratitude, Rex offered to buy dinner. Jordan put up no arguments, giving him free rein to choose what they ate.
Vietnamese it was.
Jordan clung to Rex as they drove back to Nana Bailey’s home, the bag of food resting in the crook of his arm as he hugged himself tight to Rex’s defined back.
With nothing to sit on in the living room, Jordan and Rex settled on the rug near the fireplace. Rex knew it wasn’t much, but it was preferable to sitting on wood. He smirked to himself, pleased with possible innuendos and wondering if Jordan might have a different opinion on that.
“Hey, I, uh... I know I probably don’t say it often, but thank you,” Jordan murmured.
“What are you thanking me for? You’re the one who helped me today.”
“You gave me all these new books. And you’re helping me with Meet Cute Club.”
“You ever hear of that saying about scratching each other’s backs?” Rex asked. He dug into their bags and handed Jordan his food.
“I know, but I mean it. Thank you. For helping me.”
Rex glanced Jordan’s way and shook his head. “You and these damn books, I swear. You’ll be the first man to ever marry someone’s entire bibliography, watch.”
“It’s just that…this club is all I have right now.” Jordan dropped his gaze to the tray of fried rice in front of him, picking at a piece of chicken absently.
“What do you mean?”
Jordan seemed to struggle with his words, but finally he got it out. “Do you remember the day Lana said she’d be leaving the club?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, right before the meeting started, I got into it with my boss. They kept asking me to do stuff that wasn’t in my job description, and I told them that I refused to do it without a raise.”
Rex nodded, covering his full mouth as he said, “Seems reasonable.”
“That’s what I thought,” Jordan snorted. “But apparently, that was just too much for them. They said they wouldn’t pay me, and I told them I wouldn’t do the work then. Then I basically quit my job. God, I’m so stupid…”
Jordan buried his head in his hands and let out a self-deprecating laugh that Rex felt was too close to a sob. He put down his spring roll and scooted closer to the man.
“You didn’t quit your job, Jordan. Those assholes made it impossible for you to work with all the stuff they were throwing at you. You made the right decision.”
Jordan shook his head. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“I learned a long time ago that these corporations don’t give a damn about any of us. Nana died, and my boss wouldn’t even give me time off to drive here for her funeral. I quit that very same day.”
Jordan looked up at Rex, horror on his face. “They wouldn’t let you have a few days off to bury her?”
“Nope. And I don’t feel bad about it for one minute. So don’t you feel bad about it, either. You’ll find a new job, even if you have to work at Barney’s or something.”
Jordan cracked a smile. “Barney is pretty cool. I bet he’d let me work there in a heartbeat.”
“You’d look cut
e in one of those little blue and white striped uniforms, too.”
“Whatever,” Jordan chuckled, turning his head to keep Rex from seeing his smile. “Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for helping me. I lost Lana and my job in the same day. I don’t want to lose the club, either.”
“I get it, JJ. But that’s not gonna happen, alright? You said you got a few people calling about possible membership, right?”
“Yeah, three or four. No definitive answers yet, though.”
“Those will come soon enough. Don’t worry.”
Jordan tilted his head at Rex and asked, “How are you so sure about everything? You talk about things like you already know the outcome.”
Rex waited until after he’d mixed chili sauce into his container of pho before he said a word. “I know my own limitations. I know what I’m good at, what I’m capable of, and what’s a realistic expectation of myself. I never commit to something I don’t think I can do. That way, when I say I can handle something, it always happens.”
Rex’s tone, though even, seemed jaded, like this knowledge was the silver lining of an entire sea of failures and swings and misses. He’d had to learn this lesson the hard way, witness to a man that knew his own limitations but refused to respect them. A man that left one failed family to try again with another, an act that bore identical results.
Rex drowned his bitterness in the slightly floral flavor of his pho broth.
Jordan picked at his plate of rice. “Sometimes I wish I had that skill. I worry about everything, all the time, forever.”
“I know you do,” Rex said. “That’s why you should listen to me more when I say that things will work out. Just like I can recognize my own abilities, I can see it in other people, too.”
Jordan turned to face him, sitting up and crossing his legs. “What do you see when you look at me?”
“I see a nerd with too much time on his hands,” he said in a noncommittal tone.