Page 51 of The Money Shot
“Alright,” I began with a dramatic sigh. “Picture it. Boston. I’m sixteen and washing dishes in my parents’ pub after school. Smelling like a mix of fried fish and regret.”
Jack chuckled softly, and I grinned against his chest.
“There was this bartender, Jaime. Tall, blond, wavy hair, blue eyes. Not conventionally hot, but… you know when someone’s got that thing?” I waved my hand vaguely. “Jaime had that thing. And one night, my dad had to leave early, which meant—drumroll, please—I was in charge of closing the pub for the first time ever. Big deal.”
Jack hummed, like he was imagining it.
“So, the last customer leaves, and Jaime and I are cleaning up. We’re talking, like actual talking, which is rare for me at sixteen because, you know, I was awkward and thought every conversation was a trap.”
“Shocking,” Jack teased.
“Hey, I’ve grown! Anyway, Jaime casually mentions his boyfriend and my brain short-circuits. Like, full-on Windows reboot sound in my head. Because, sure, I’d heard of gay people, but it wasn’t something we discussed in my house. Ever. And here’s Jaime, just tossing it out there like, ‘Oh yeah, it’s sunny out, and by the way, I’m gay.’”
Jack’s chest rumbled with quiet laughter, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“That’s when I knew. Like, instantly. Light bulb moment. I’m gay. Boom. The very next day, I came out to my parents.”
Jack tilted his head to look down at me. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.” I lifted my head and grinned at him. “Walked right into the kitchen while my mom was making breakfast, and I was like, ‘Hey, so I’m gay.’”
He raised an eyebrow. “How’d they take it?”
“Oh, they were great! My mom handed me a plate of pancakes and said, ‘Okay, honey, but no boys in your room with the door closed.’” I laughed. “My dad, on the other hand, just said, ‘Don’t tell your grandmother until after the will’s finalized.’”
Jack snorted, and I felt his arm tighten around me again.
“So, yeah. Not exactly tragic,” I finished, looking up at him. “Sorry to disappoint, Drake.”
He smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not disappointing at all, Lucien.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just laid my head back down on his chest. Jack turned onto his side, and before I could even brace myself, his lips brushed against mine. The kiss wassoft at first, tentative, like he was testing the waters. I moaned quietly; the sound slipping out before I could stop it, and his arm tightened around me.
Okay, this was more like it. I closed my eyes, already imagining where this was going. Maybe we’d finally shed the awkward energy and get back to the good stuff.
But just as I reached for him, Jack pulled back. “Who was your first lover?”
I blinked at him, completely thrown off. “What?”
“You know,” he said, propping his head up on his hand like he was asking about the weather. “Your first time. Who was it with?”
“Drake,” I deadpanned, keeping my voice low and gravelly like Lucien would. “You sure know how to kill a mood.”
Jack—Drake—just smirked. “Come on, Lucien. Spill. It’s part of your mysterious, tortured backstory.”
I sighed, mostly because as long as his arm stayed snug around me, I’d probably answer whatever ridiculous question he threw my way. “Fine. But you asked for it.”
I shifted a little, trying to get comfortable against him, then dove in. “College. Freshman year. I was still figuring myself out, but I decided I was ready. So, there’s this guy—tall, blonde, brilliant smile. Totally out of my league, but nice enough to notice me in our Psych 101 class. He used to lend me his notes when I skipped class.”
Jack’s brows furrowed slightly, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
“We had this one study session in the library, and he invited me back to his dorm afterward. I was, like, two minutes behind him on the walk over before I realized he’d just propositioned me. I mean, I was clueless.”
Jack chuckled softly, and I could feel his chest shake. “Sounds about right.”
“Anyway, we get to his room. He’s got posters of strange folk-singers on the walls, which should’ve been a red flag, but I was too busy trying not to hyperventilate.”
Jack’s face suddenly lit up with recognition, and he sat up a little straighter. “Wait a second. Tall, blonde, great smile… Psych 101… Are you talking about Trevor Jenkins?”