After I say goodbye to Christina, I walk back to my apartment to grab some food and get ready to head to Carters. I also need to confirm Carter’s address with him. That might be something smart to do before I go.
After I text Carter for his address, he immediately replies with the address, followed by a heart-eye emoji. With that, I head directly to Rutherford Station, which will help me get to Christopher Street Path Station. Even though I now have Carter’s address, he requested he scoop me up and walk with me to his house. I am definitely into that idea.
Carter
Iam so excited to hang out with Nate alone and finally kiss him again. Having his tongue deep in my mouth was so fucking hot last week, I need it again. His tongue isn’t the only thing that I want deep in me. It’s hard to know which sexual position I want or even if I will even like anal. I am also so nervous to try and have sex. Like, what if I have issues getting hard with Nate, like the issues I’ve had with the other people I attempted to have sex with?
I have so many thoughts on my mind as I wrap the corner near Christopher Street Train Station. Thankfully, he wasn’t watching this afternoon’s preseason game when I had a mental breakdown on the field. I had a solid few possessions during the Penguins game until the defender tackled me. Being tackled was not the issue; it was him calling me a “faggot” afterward.
While I was getting up after the tackle, he mouthed the word in a clear derogatory way. I doubt he knows that I am gay, but it still made me extremely anxious. This incident led me to spiral out of control for the rest of the game, which ultimately resultedin my lovely first-quarter fumble. I am fine now, but I clearly need to learn how to control my emotions.
Seeing Nate stand there in his striped t-shirt makes me so happy. Nate walks towards me with a glowing smile, which sends tingles down my spine. I can’t help but want to rip his clothes off and see what’s underneath.
Nate runs into me with a long hug and says, “Hi.” Such a simple “Hi” makes me smile.
I say back, “Hi.”
As we walk back towards my apartment, I show him a few of my favorite spots on Christopher Street and along the way. I point to a cute 1,800-square-foot rental space, which I hope will become a cafe or hangout spot sometime soon. There are no really good coffee shops near me, so a new cafe is necessary.
We get to my apartment complex and I hear Nate mutter, “This place is so bougie, holy shit.”
I grin and say, “I heard that, thanks. You’re not wrong, though. Playing football really has its perks.” We pass Henry, my apartment complex's friendly front desk receptionist, and get on the elevator. We get off the elevator on the third floor and make our way towards my home. I watch Nate’s face as he walks first into my place. The look of amazement and surprise on his face is hilarious. I have no sentimental attachment to this place, but it is still truly beautiful.
The apartment is absolutely stunning. The moment you walk in, you’re hit with a feeling of intense luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows flood the space with natural light, giving the sleek, modern furniture a soft glow. The best part, though, is the enormous two-person bathtub in the main bathroom.
“Your living room and kitchen are legit bigger than my entire place, and I still have a two-bedroom!” Nate yells.
I flirtatiously say, “More room for us to play.”
While Nate continues looking around, I jokingly say, “Did you finish the last Harry Potter yet?”
Nate smiles and lets out, “You’re an ass!”
It’s around 7 p.m., and I’m planning to make Nate a simple yet amazing chicken parm with penne vodka pasta. I think it’ll be fun to cook together while getting to know each other more. I tend to order out way more frequently than cooking at home, even after I go to the supermarket. Cooking is just such a move, and ordering out gives me the ability to sit and do absolutely nothing.
Nate sits down, looking into my eyes, and says, “Now what? Want to watch the first Harry Potter now?”
I reply, “I thought we could make some dinner together first, which shouldn’t take too long. I picked an easy recipe.
I take out all the ingredients, and we both look at each other with a mixture of delight and delirium. Neither of us could remember how to get the breadcrumbs to stick to the chicken correctly. We mix the eggs and breadcrumbs, but both laugh at how thick the blend looks. We both clearly have no idea what we did wrong.
I picked this recipe because I thought an infant could do it, but clearly, I was wrong. It took us about 10 minutes till Nate blurted out, “We are idiots, flour and water. We forgot flour and water.”
I dump out the mess of a concoction and start over with water and flour. “Voila, it worked, “I say.
When I put the chicken in the oven and pasta in the pot, I caught Nate mid-motion, opening the vodka and marinara sauce glass bottles. He opens the marinara sauce bottle with such force that it drops to the floor, shattering it. I start laughing as the sauce gets all over his clothes and face, while I remain spotless.
Nate says, “I am a mess; I cannot believe I just did that. Nothing comes easy with me.”
He seems so stressed, but I lighten the mood and say, “This is hilarious! Take off your clothes. I will get you one of mine.”
It’s like I snap out of some trance when I look towards Nate to tell him he can change in another room. Before I get any words out, he is already taking his shirt and pants off without a care in the world. I can’t help but sneak glances at his body.
He’s pretty pale, but damn, he’s fit. His legs, though, that’s what gets me going. The muscles are so defined that every movement makes them flex and stand out. His low-cut briefs give me a full view of those incredible legs. But what really catches my attention is the way the cotton fabric clings to his bulge, outlining everything. Even soft, he lookshuge,and just like that, I start to feel my pants tighten.
I snap out of it when Nate finishes changing into my spare T-shirt and basketball shorts. We end up dumping all the vodka sauce over the chicken and pasta, mainly because the marinara sauce is now split between the trash and the inside of my washing machine. We sit down to eat around 7:45 and demolish everything in under ten minutes. I can’t tell if we were actually starving or just ready to relax.
While I clean up, I hear Nate looking towards my Nintendo and beams out, “You did not tell me you have the original Super Smash Brothers! I love this game. We are playing this now.”
