Something Like Spring (Something Like, #4)

by Jay Bell

Jason gently knocked on the door, wincing at how loud his soft raps seemed to echo through the silent house. He turned to make sure no bedroom lights had switched on, and ended up banging his guitar against the wall. He was still grimacing when Caesar opened the door. “Not exactly stealthy.” “Sorry,” Jason replied. Caesar jerked his head, signaling that he should enter. Jason did, noticing the room was tidier than usual, a candle lit on the side table. Casual, but still suggestive. He fought down a feeling of panic as he sat on the bed. “Here to play me a song?” Caesar asked. Jason nodded but left the guitar where it was—resting between his legs. He watched Caesar expectantly, taking in the muscle shirt hanging off the bare skin of his shoulders, and hoped for proof that this morning wasn’t a fluke or a delusion. Caesar picked up on this, chuckling before rewarding Jason with a kiss. His breath tasted minty fresh, implying that he had done the same as Jason and made sure his teeth were brushed. “So what was all that downstairs?” Caesar asked, sitting on the bed next to him. “Standard check-up or trouble?” Jason rolled his eyes. “You’re looking at Houston’s newest altar boy.” “My parents aren’t Catholic,” Caesar said after a pause, “but I think I catch your drift. Mom’s pressuring you to go to church.” “It’s that or pack my bags,” Jason said. If Caesar found this surprising, he didn’t say so. “So that’s it? Your smoking hot caseworker came here to make sure you go to church...