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Declarations like that made me uncomfortable. Unsure what to say and only knowing I needed to change the subject as quickly as possible, I jumped out of the truck now that we’d come to a gradual stop as close to the water’s edge as possible.
Before I had a chance to ask about Gray’s plans for our outing, he rounded the truck and unlatched the tailgate, revealing more surprises in store for me. Somehow, Gray had transformed the bed of his truck into a scene straight out of a romance novel, laden with all manner of items perfect for a Notebook-esque date. I wanted to roll my eyes—really, I swear I did. Instead, I found myself fighting back a smile at Gray's thoughtfulness and I had to resort to biting down on the inner flesh of my cheek.
First, Gray hoisted up a picnic basket, its weight evident from the effort it took my friendly neighborhood giant to lift it. I couldn’t fathom what he had packed inside, given I hadn’t witnessed him cooking anything other than our dinner all week. Next, he grabbed a picnic blanket and some cushions, stuffing them under his free arm.
“Do you mind grabbing the rest?” he grunted under the strain of the excess weight, which I assumed was made up entirely of baked goods, if our history were anything to go by.
He stepped aside, granting me space to unload the remaining items. As I approached, my steps faltered. Now I had to wonder if one of Gray’s many skills included being a magician? There, in the back of the truck, stood my scuffed but unmistakable guitar case—the same case that tended to be glued to me like a third arm. Even more baffling? The twin case beside it, albeit seemingly in much newer condition than my older thrift shop find.
Which made me question my sanity because, as far as I knew, Gray didn’t have a musical bone in his body. Having endured hours of off-key singing along to the radio during our school commute, I’m pretty sure I’d developed tinnitus. The man couldn’t even hum in tune.
I spun around, ready to grill Gray, only to find he had already made his way down to the flat expanse of grass right by the water’s edge, bent at the waist and laying a picnic blanket on the grass with gentle precision. My mouth may have gone bone dry at the sight.
Jesus. I’d heard many a person wax poetic about the magical hockey booty, but I think they weren’t giving enough credit to the magnificence of the football slash baseball ass. Gray looked like a walking peach emoji, bent over in those skintight jeans.
At the twitch of my cock, I shook my head and returned to the task at hand. Guitars. Right. I could surely manage to carry some guitars without making a complete fool of myself, considering I did it on a daily basis.
Picking up the cases, I began making my way toward Gray. My steps through the tall grass were tentative, just in case some critter or rattlesnake decided to jump out and attack me. Did they have bears out here?
My upbringing in Kansas City may have been less than ideal, but at least I didn’t also have to worry about fighting off rabid animals.
As I approached Gray, my assumptions were confirmed. The picnic blanket now overflowed with what looked to be the entire contents of the display case at Sweet Cheeks. The spread of donuts, eclairs, tarts and pies laid out before me sent a clear message from Gray. “I listen to you, I see you, I care about you.”
Gray had already claimed his territory on two-thirds of the blanket, armed with a partially devoured chocolate cupcake. Grinning up at me with a look of sheer contentment, the sight of chocolate lodged between his teeth warmed my heart. Gray, always so unapologetically himself, epitomized authenticity, and I adored it. He knew he came off as a bit ridiculous, and he didn’t care one bit. That level of confidence and self-assurance came off as endearing and strangely sexy.
“So, are we diving into the water before or after stuffing our faces?” he inquired, maintaining that infectious grin. “Wait, are you one of those people that believe you need to wait half an hour after eating before you can go in the water? Or are you normal?”
I couldn’t resist fucking with him again. “I can’t swim,” I whimpered, making my eyes as wide as possible.
Gray’s face immediately fell. “Oh shit! I guess I really should have asked that before bringing you here, huh? I could always teach you, though. If you wanted? If not, that’s cool too. I’m happy to just hang out here, eating and getting to know you better…”
I hushed Gray by placing a finger on his plush lips. I adored how trusting Gray could be. He always took people's words at face value. But that wasn’t to say he came across as gullible or naive; I had witnessed moments when he stood up to others making thinly veiled digs, putting them in their place. No, Gray simply chose to see the best in people until they proved otherwise.
That genuineness proved to be a double-edged sword. While it made messing with him effortlessly entertaining, witnessing the way my words momentarily crushed him no longer brought the satisfaction it once did. Instead, I felt an overwhelming urge to restore that brilliant smile to his face.
“Hey, while the offer is incredibly sweet, I’m totally fucking with you. I’m actually an excellent swimmer. I once had a foster family that played water polo. Talk about a brutal sport. Football pales in comparison.”
The indignant expression etched across Gray’s face killed me. I couldn’t tell if it stemmed from the prank or my subtle implication that footballers might be a tad delicate. I burst into laughter, a torrent that transformed into breathless, seal-like noises, with tears streaming down my face. It might not have been that funny, objectively speaking, but the sheer joy of feeling safe, unburdened, and happy for once in my damn life felt so good, making it impossible to stop.
Gray coughed into his fist, and the sound suspiciously resembled the word “dick.” Before I even processed him moving, my back met the ground, and Gray loomed over me with a predatory grin stretching his lips. In the recesses of my consciousness, I registered how damn sexy I found him in this position, all muscled and growly. However, my immediate concern was restoring oxygen to my lungs, leaving little room to pay attention to such thoughts. Even when playfully messing around, Gray retained the brute strength characteristic of a top-class athlete. I didn’t envy any of his adversaries on the field.
After a beat, Gray caught on to my struggle to breathe and hastily scrambled off me, returning to his cross-legged position on the opposite corner of the blanket.
“Sorry Colt, sometimes I forget how tiny you are. Are you okay?” he asked, genuine concern marring his features.
“I’m fine, you dick,” I managed to wheeze, remaining flat on my back sprawled diagonally across the picnic rug. “And I’m not that small. We just can’t all be freakish giants like you.” I gestured vaguely up and down in his direction.
“Nah, pretty sure the kids in peewee football would be bigger than you. It’s not a bad thing, though. I like that you’re small enough to throw around. It… does things for me.” Gray’s voice dropped an octave, adopting a husky quality I’d only heard once before—the night in his guest room when we’d both gotten hard.
I recognized that my next decision would be life-defining. It would be easy to adhere to the status quo, suppressing my true desires in favor of avoiding the promise of intimacy. If I brushed off Gray’s comment, I could make it through this date unscathed, convincing him that we weren’t compatible as anything more than friends.
Alternately, it would be far too easy to swing the pendulum the complete opposite direction, easily succumbing to the temptation, offering him access to my body right now without a care for the consequences.
Yet, lying there, gazing up at this man I’d come to care for in ways I wouldn’t let myself understand, I recognized that I couldn’t choose either of those paths. The emotions that surged within me in Gray’s presence eclipsed anything I had ever thought possible. The electric charge between us had become a constant companion, impossibly distracting. I realized I couldn’t resist much longer, and surprisingly, I found myself wondering why I even still bothered to. Clearly we both wanted this. Gray had consistently proven himself to be the outlier in my life, the one I could trust wholeheartedly and, unexpectedly, allow myself to be vulnerable with. His actions spoke louder than his pretty words ever did.
I had a profound sense that he would accept every ugly and broken part of me, the parts I couldn’t bear to examine myself. More than that, he would love those parts—completely and unconditionally.
It may have seemed like I had the illusion of choice. However, since our first encounter, this moment had been inevitable. We were inevitable. I only needed to gather the courage to finally ask for what I truly wanted: to be loved exactly as I am.
