Love Is Always Write Volume 4

two beers out of the cooler and sat back down, careful not to touch Simon.
    "So what was up with you two interrupting our show?" John gestured between himself and Brett. "Not that it wasn't entertaining. I'm sure the two of you humping each other in the mud fueled a number of fantasies."
    "Worked for me." Simon smirked around the mouth of the beer bottle, and hooked a thumb at Jay. "Ask him. Wasn't my idea."
    "The rope gave way. Sorry," Jay muttered.
    "Not a problem. But if it happens again?" Brett shook his head. "Try to keep it PG, yeah?"
    "It wasn't that bad," Simon protested. He wanted to look at Jay and check his expression, but didn't.
    "Yeah." John pointed his bottle at Simon and Jay. "Trust me, from where we were standing? That was pretty much the Non-Rated version."
    Brett snorted. "Couple of women in the crowd were majorly disappointed, let me tell you. You really let down the Black Knight fan club."
    Simon took the opportunity to glance at Jay. "You have a fan club?" Jay's cheekbones had a faint flush and he glared daggers at Brett, ignoring Simon.
    When Jay didn't say anything, Simon looked at Brett. "He has a fan club?"
    "Sort of. You know, he's the bad boy, and women dig that." Brett raised his eyebrows and took a sip of beer. "Not that he cares."
    "Wait." Lenny frowned, giving Jay what amounted to an eye fuck in Simon's book. Annoyed, Simon leaned into Jay's shoulder. Mine, asswipe . "I thought you were straight."
    A beat, and then Jay said, "What difference does it make?" He went still, almost holding his breath. Simon took a chance and tucked his shoulder behind Jay's, watching Lenny. Maybe the eye fuck existed only in Simon's illogically jealous mind; Jay had him a little crazy at the moment. He thought he heard Jay sigh.
    Everybody stared at Lenny, who shook his head, hunching his shoulders. "It doesn't. You just coulda said, you know?"
    "Why?" Simon waved a hand at Lenny. "Not like I asked you what you like to fuck, did I?"
    "I'm asking him, not you," Lenny said.
    "It's a solidarity thing." Simon stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. "Maybe we just don't care to advertise our orientation."
    "Oooh, I do love a polysyllabic man," Brett cooed, batting his eyelashes. He reached across John to whack Lenny in the arm. "Don't be a dick. Hey, speaking of which, did anybody tape American Idol?"
    Two beers and four slices of pizza later, Simon realized he might have been onto something with his Jay-is-Shy theory. Other than three short sentences, all in response to a direct question, Jay sat there like a lump. And Simon had no idea if this was normal or not. He hadn't hung out with these guys at all this week; he and Jay spent evenings working out the kinks in their choreographed scenes and trying to get Simon up to speed on swordplay.
    Nobody seemed to think it was odd for Jay not to talk, though, which lent some weight to the normal side of the scale. By Simon's count, Jay had finished five beers, and other than slumping a little in his seat, he didn't seem affected by them. Simon watched when Jay headed off for the bathroom, and he seemed steady enough. When Jay got back, after snagging another beer, he settled next to Simon, closer than before.
    Tim tossed a balled-up napkin at Jay to get his attention. "Hey."
    "What?" Jay stretched out his legs. He made a noise, a sort of amiable grunt, and Simon revised his opinion of how sober Jay might or might not be. Jay laid his arm across the back of the loveseat, angling his legs into Simon. His hand brushed Simon's bare shoulder, sending a wave of goosebumps across Simon's entire body, and Simon's estimation of Jay's sobriety dropped way, way down.
    "You still doing the grudge match thing when we get to Pennsylvania?"
    "Not sure." Jay shrugged, and tipped his bottle up to take a sip. His callused thumb described a slow arc along Simon's trapezius, which was apparently wired to his dick. Who knew? Jay's voice lowered half an octave, the slight rasp raising another round of goosebumps. "If Harris shows up, then yeah, I guess so."
    Tom – who, it turned out, was Tim's cousin, which explained the spooky resemblance – leaned forward. "You should, dude. It's seriously cool. And the crowd goes apeshit."
    Jay made circles with his fingers on Simon's shoulder, feather light and deadly to Simon's brain function. Jay's breathing sped up a little, and he shifted in his seat, before tipping the bottle up to his lips. Simon didn't watch his throat