Page 3 of Swim Crush

“Whatever! I’d be naked if you weren’t here all the time.”

“You’re naked all the time anyway.”

He gave up the argument to read the note. “Blah, blah, blah…my favorite was the unicorn one.” He paused. “Mikey! The coffee shop! Let’s go!”

He grabbed an elastic from his dresser, put his hair up, pulled a shirt on and yanked me out the door before I could even ask why he wanted coffee so late. He’d be up all night and then I’d have to hear him complain about being tired.

He was so excited he had us running to our bikes.

Mack University was a small college, but had a large campus. It took over fifteen minutes to ride from our dorms in the north to the athletic center in the south. But for now, Logan was heading to the cluster of businesses in the center of downtown Brentwood at a dangerous speed, and I was struggling to catch up with him. Coach would kill me if I injured myself doing something this reckless, but Logan was excited. It was hard not to feel the same when he got like this, which, to be honest, was a lot.

When we first met, we were like fire and ice. He was an excitable Golden Retriever and I was a reserved...whatever kind of dog is reserved. I was into sports; he was into the creative arts. I was in the closet; he had two dads. It’s not that we were total opposites, but rather complimentary. A fact that helped both of us in more ways than one, but especially academically. He was also the first person I came out to – last year – though when I told Danny next, he wasn’t surprised either.

“Come on!” He was jumping up and down at the bike rack. I did not look at the front of his loose shorts.

“Are you not wearing underwear?”

“Were you looking?” I was definitely looking. “Never mind. I already know the answer, and this is exactly why we’re here.”

What? I was so confused.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and led me inside, whispering, “Do you remember last week? It was Pride week and we came here and you ordered an egg-white English muffin with pepper jack cheese?”

“You remembered my order?”

Just like Danny, he ignored me. “The barista – the suave Latino, I think his name was Arturo.”

I knew the one he was talking about. He was…handsome. I saw him bend over once. His shirt rode up and the bright teal waistband of his Andrew Christian underwear peeked out, catching my eye. I was ninety-nine percent sure he was gay, and I was a hundred percent sure I wouldn’t mind dating him.

“When you went to pick up your order, he said, ‘I like your shirt.’ Do you remember what one you were wearing? Hmm?”

The uni-

“The unicorn shirt!” Logan triumphantly finished.

He was right. And he was shoving me to the counter to order.

“He’s here!” Logan whisper-hissed in my ear, his hand still on my back.

“Uh…”

“Iced white chocolate mocha?”

It seemed the cashier knew my order. “Yeah, that.”

“Name?”

“Mike.”

Logan ordered and while we waited, he kept pushing me in the back and I kept shushing him. There was no way I was going to say anything to Arturo. He was working.

A few minutes later, his melodic voice called out. “Magic Mike?”

I held in my excitement as he gave me a huge, bright smile. It felt electric when our fingertips touched as I grabbed my drink.

“Thanks.” I turned and dodged Logan, who was trying to block my way, picking a booth close to the service counter. I wasn’t planning on saying anything, but I could be close enough to stare longingly.

“Why didn’t you say anything? You should’ve slipped him your number!” Logan admonished, sitting across from me.