Page 98 of Play With Me

We’re already bros Iz

Not what he told me.

Best Bear

You don’t get a hot shave with a man unless the friendmistry is boiling

I sucked in a quick breath. Usurped, and I didn’t even know he was making a play. It was kind of hot though—I liked this version of Will.

Jaimie stepped in line behind me with an armful of colorful fruits and nuts, a live herb. Like a stock photo of Man Shopping for Healthy Food.

“I thought you were getting skincare stuff,” I said. Sometimes Has and I covered our hands and feet with Vaseline and wore gloves and socks to bed. That was the extent of our skincare routine.

Jaimie looked at me quizzically. “I did,” he said, holding his armful of food up as if I didn’t already see it. I felt like a philistine. Like Pinterest let me down and there was something I should know about rubbing food on your face.

“Right, of course,” I said lamely, turning back to the conveyor belt with my eggs for a shady palm reader. I added a few packs of gum. Bubble Tape. I needed to make a care package for Desi, anyway. Hair ties. Carmex that I’d pay for and never find again. Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. Jaimie put those back and pushed me forward.

The checkout guy’s eyes flitted up and down the gorgeous man beside me. He didn’t seem to notice the attention so I elbowed him, waggling my eyebrows when he looked at me.

“It’s vintage Marcus Wright,” he said to the man who nodded gratefully.

“He was checking you out, not your sweater,” I hissed as he grabbed his bags at the end of the belt.

“I know. I just let him know I wasn’t interested.”

Oh, wow. Jaimie was terrifyingly good at being gay. Has would have waited outside the grocery store clicking his pens until the guy got off work and immediately scared the shit out of him. He was totally fucked.

You’re totally fucked, Has.

Jaimie is insanely sexy. Underneath all of that knitwear, he’s kind of a top. I’m not gonna lie.

I’d let him top me if I was a gay man and didn’t have a bf

Jaimie and I made our way back toward The Open Palm. I popped into the deli when we passed and paid half-price for a dented cheeseball—my own private rebellion.