Page 55 of The Key Holder

Of me.

When we got to the parking lot, I adjusted myself before we went inside. With a swipe of my hand, I tucked my dick into my waistband.

The grocery store was bustling, a stark contrast to the quiet seclusion of the lake. I pushed the cart as we navigated the aisles, tossing items into the cart. “Dunkaroos?” I questioned Dylan’s latest choice.

“What?” Dylan dropped the box in the cart. “I like my cookies frosted.”

“How do you manage to make that sound dirty?”

Dylan leaned in and whispered, “Everything sounds dirty coming out of this mouth because you probably can’t stop thinking about stuffing your cock in it.”

He had a point. “Are we done yet? I think we need to get back.”

Dylan smiled, then pranced ahead of me. “Looks like a few more aisles.”

I didn’t have to glance down to know it had slipped out of its makeshift sheath. Bending over to push helped a little, but hopefully the cart was enough of a shield.

When we reached the checkout, the cashier, a woman with a big smile and even bigger hair, started scanning our items. “You guys are a cute couple,” she said, checking on our eggs and putting them to the side.

Dylan and I exchanged a quick glance. “Thank you,” I said, noticing the grin on Dylan’s face getting wider.

As we walked out into the bright sunshine with the cart almost overflowing with groceries—after all these years, it was still difficult to tell Dylan no—I could almost feel the happiness radiating from him. Bending over to get the car—and the air conditioning—started, I almost hit my head on the roof when Dylan slapped my ass.

“Sorry, not sorry. When you just put it out there like that, I had to.”

“You had to?” I stood up, giving him a raised eyebrow.

“I have no self control.”

“I’m sensing that.” I gestured to the shopping cart.

Dylan shrugged. “You could’ve stopped me.”

“I think we both know that’s a lie.”

“‘Cute couple,’ huh?” Dylan said, as I pulled out of the parking lot and headed back out of town. His tone was light, but I could tell he was tense. His knee was bouncing and he only did that when he was nervous. The playfulness of a few minutes ago had dissipated.

“Yeah,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the road. “She seemed to think so.”

Even Shawn Mendes on the radio wasn’t breaking the tension. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the drone of the tires on the asphalt.

“So it’s probably too early for this conversation,” Dylan began, his fingers intertwined in his lap, “but what do you think about that?”

“About what? Her thinking we’re cute? I’d say that’s an understatement.”

“No.” He punched my leg, then left his hand on my thigh. “About us…being a couple.”

Dylan’s words hung in the air, loaded with implications. We both knew we were out here for a reset, but we also had both given in to temptation. Our one night together was a whirlwind of desire. Was this really the time to put a label on it?

One look at his face, and he answered my question for me.

“I…I’m not against that,” I admitted. “I do have feelings for you.”

“Feelings?” He squeezed my leg, then his fingers began tracing a small circle over and over in the same spot. I wasn’t even sure he knew he was doing it, but I noticed.

“I mean, yeah. Haven’t you felt the tension all summer?”

“The tension?”