here as well. I don’t like to hide it when I can avoid it. I’ve lived with enough shame in my life about growing up poor, I don’t need to feel ashamed of my sexuality too.
“Sorry. He must be special,” Mark corrects, and the momentary tension eases from my chest. The elevator doors ping open and we both step on.
“He is,” I agree.
“How’s it going settling in? Have your apartment all unpacked and set up?”
“Haven’t actually found one yet,” I confess, rubbing the back of my neck and laughing awkwardly. I should probably get on that, but the idea holds absolutely zero appeal.
“You’re not living out of a hotel while you look, are you?” He seems horrified by the notion.
“No, staying with my best friend. It’s cramped, but I don’t mind at all.” I smile at the memory of Bishop waking me up this morning by dancing half-naked through the living room— aka my bedroom— with a cup of coffee in his hand and earbuds in.
“Ah, I get it.” Mark gives me a knowing wink, and I just grin.
The elevator doors open on the first floor, and we both step out, heading for the exit door.
“Have a good night,” I call as we part directions.
“And you have a good date.”
Something tells me this is going to be a fantastic date, hopefully the best I’ve ever had.
When I get home, I park my car next to Bishop’s in the parking garage and head up to the apartment. His bedroom door is closed, and I can hear movement inside. It sounds like he’s pacing, and every so often there’s the soft sound of fabric rustling. An exasperated sigh reaches my ears, and I bite my tongue against the laugh that threatens to escape. Putting my hand against the cheap, flimsy door, I close my eyes for a second and picture him inside, getting ready for our first date. Is he as nervous and excited as I am? Has he been waiting for this as long as I have?
“B?” I say his name softly and hear a muttered shit from inside his room.
“Hold on,” he calls out.
“Can I come in?” I put my hand on the knob but don’t turn it.
“I’m not ready yet, which I know sounds kind of dumb, but I wanted to look nice, and I have no clue where we’re going. Nothing looks right…”
“Can I come in?” I ask again, biting back a grin at the panic in his tone. I don’t like that he’s freaking out, but it makes me a little happy to know he cares this much about our date.
“Yeah,” he answers, sounding mildly defeated.
I open the door to find Bishop standing in front of his closet in nothing but a pair of tight jeans, his top half bare.
“If you want to go out like that, you won’t hear any complaints from me,” I tease, crossing the room and wrapping my arms around him from behind. His skin feels warm and soft against my hands, the lightest dusting of hair covering his abdomen. I press a kiss against his shoulder, taking a deep breath to fill my lungs with his scent, my cock hardening as I do.
“This is our first date. I want to look nice.” There’s a hint of a pout in his voice that probably shouldn’t be as cute on a grown man as it is. I smother my laugh against his skin. “Be nice; I’m having a meltdown.”
He turns in my grasp and loops his arms around my neck.
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to tease; you’re just being cute,” I apologize, kissing the tip of his nose. My heart swoops, so much of me still unable to believe that I’m allowed to touch Bishop in all the ways I’ve dreamed about over the years.
“You didn’t freak out this much when you were getting ready for your date with Riot. Unless you were just hiding it?”
“No, I didn’t,” he agrees, running his fingers gently through the hair on the back of my head, sending a little shiver of pleasure down my spine.
“So, what’s the problem? Why is our date so scary?”
Bishop’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink, and his fingers flex in my hair. “It’s embarrassing,” he says, barely above a whisper.
“We’re best friends. We’ve always shared everything; you can tell me.”
He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. When he looks into my eyes, I can see insecurity brimming from them.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve lo…” he clears his