Dad said it was unhealthy for brothers to be attached at the hip when they were almost twenty-four years old. And maybe there was some truth to that statement, but it worked for us.
The only table with two open seats was in the far corner. That wasn’t a problem, but as we approached, the man with his back to the room turned, and it was hard to tell who was more nervous about being so close when we weren’t alone.
PJ’s face went from a broad smile to an anxious smirk so quickly I doubted anyone else noticed his reaction. He turned back to his breakfast and his hand trembled slightly as he lifted the coffee mug to his mouth.
“Hey Zach,” one of the other men greeted him. He looked vaguely familiar, but I’d been introduced to so many people last night I couldn’t remember their names. “And you’re Nate, right? Man, seeing the two of you today, I still can’t believe you’re twins.”
“Tell me about it,” PJ muttered, quietly enough I almost missed his annoyance.
“Yeah, we get that a lot,” I responded. With the beard and longer hair, everyone assumed I was the older brother trying to make sure Zach didn’t let fame go to his head. More than once, people had demanded to see our driver licenses to prove we shared the same birthday. “I hope it’s not rude if I admit I don’t remember your name.”
“He never does,” Zach teased. “It’s nothing personal.”
“Understandable,” the man assured me. “Last night was a bit crazy and everyone was dressed up and on their best behavior.” He flashed a quick smile to the man seated at his right before holding out his hand. “I’m Clint, and this is my husband, Kevin.”
“Oh wow, you guys are married?” Now that he’d said their names, I remembered hearing something about teammates turned lovers who’d run off to Vegas recently.
It was quite the uproar in the sports community, because some people said it shouldn’t be allowed for two gay men to get married and still play for the same team. Those people were idiots, but it wasn’t worth getting into a troll fest on social media to point that out.
Clint flashed his left hand. “Yeah, it’s still crazy to me, too. We just got back into town yesterday morning and now it’s time to pack for spring training. Please, sit. The waitress should be back around soon and then you can grab something from the buffet.”
Zach took the seat next to Clint, which meant I had two choices: sit between Zach and PJ or between PJ and Kevin. The single empty seats at other tables seemed like a great idea.
No way could I get through breakfast sitting this close to the man whom I’d jacked off thinking about last night. And again this morning in the shower, because even icy cold water wasn’t effective.
“If you want to go fill a plate, I can tell the waitress what you want to drink,” PJ offered before my ass even hit the seat. It was hard to tell whether he was trying to delay an awkward moment or if he was genuinely trying to be nice. I opened my mouth to tell him I wasn’t all that hungry, but my stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, betraying my lie. PJ laughed. “Go. Eat.”
“But you don’t know what I want,” I told him. The corner of his mouth turned up and the fine lines around his eyes deepened.
“Bet I can guess,” PJ responded, his voice deeper now. I swallowed around the lump in my throat and shifted my weight from one leg to the other in a feeble attempt to relieve the pressure in my jeans. He caught the movement and dragged his gaze from my waist up to my eyes. He tipped his head to the side, staring at me long enough to make me uncomfortable, and then grinned. “You strike me as the type to double fist it at breakfast.”
My eyes nearly bulged out of my head. Was he seriously flirting with me in front of his friends and my brother?
“Easy, killer,” he said, placing a hand on my arm. When he pulled back, the hair on my forearm stood on end and a chill passed through my body. All it took was a split second of his touch and my body craved another fix. “I’ll order you OJ and a coffee.”
“Oh,” I responded dumbly, wondering what the odds were I