10 Ways to Accidentally Fall in Love

by Emmy Sanders

“Look how excited he is,” Iggy says, sounding amused. “He’s like a puppy.” I glance out the window again. Brad has a huge grin on his face as he stretches his hamstrings, his head bobbing back and forth like he’s singing a tune to himself. He does look like a puppy, if said puppy had the most gorgeous green eyes I’ve ever seen and the sleekly muscled body of a grown-ass man.

Fuck. This man. I barely know him, and I’m already wondering what kind of fence he’d like around his backyard. White picket?

don’t worry, Cat-man. He’s not replacing you, either. I have plenty of room in my heart for more than one gym-bro. I’m polygymorous.”

“Good pick, Joey-roo. This place is awesome. Although you might have to tuck me into bed later. It’s the least you can do after stuffing me so thoroughly, if you know what I mean.” He winks, and I cough, nearly spitting out my water.

“Yeah, man. It’s been a while for me, you know? I miss, just, like…touching someone. Holding.” Fu-u-uck. How long would it take to custom-order a ring?

“If I were into guys, you’d be my first choice,”

“Don’t change, Brad. We can hug on it if you want.” “You sure?” “Positive.” Relieved, I pull Joey in. He’s not that much taller than my six feet, so it’s a good fit. Like last time, his arms swamp me, and I let out a breath at the welcome squeeze. I think Joey might be a better hugger than any of my past girlfriends. Which, nothing against them, but their arms were much smaller. And with the exception of Jane, who was wicked strong and, honestly, scared me a bit, they all liked being the ones who were swamped in my arms.

Joey deserves the best, and, like I told him, I’m going to make sure he gets it. Which means finding out everything there is to know about my new friend, including whether he’s a plunder or be plundered kinda guy.

I’ll be the best wingman Joey has ever had. Mark my words. By the time I’m through with him, he’ll be head over heels in love.

“It was easy. I just started a dating profile for you on three different sites, mined through about six dozen messages, and decided Lewis was the place to start. Do you know how many dick pics I got sent, dude? One was wearing a hat. The dick. Not the guy. Don’t worry—it wasn’t Lewis. Good luck!”

“I told you I liked boating,” I say, letting him go. He nods. “Yeah?” “Which, I assume, you put as enjoying ‘watersports’ in my profile?”

Sorry again about Lewis. The next one will be better, I promise. I’ll switch that whole watersports thing to motorboating. No way to confuse that.”

“On a scale from one to ten, how sexy is a ’stache? Seven? Eight?” Jason looks up from his lunch slowly, blinking at me. “No? Okay, is it more or less sexy than…” I check my notes. “A ‘dick guaranteed to rearrange your guts.’” I grimace. “Yikes. Do people like that?” “Are you reading porn bios?” my friend asks. “Please, please say yes.” After a second, he adds, “Although I’d have questions either way.”

He’s my Joey Kangaroo.”

“He’s like… If niceness were a man,” I say. “His eyes are warm like brownies. And he’s all muscly in a kinda soft way? Like a loaf of challah. Add some chocolate sprinkles on top for his hair, and there you have it.”

“Did you seriously make him a dating profile? Is that what this is?” “Yes?” I say slowly. “What else am I supposed to do? Walk around with a sign that says ‘Me and dude-friend looking for some guy love’?” “Don’t do that,” Jason says quickly.

he mentions an Italian restaurant he likes with meatballs that are small enough for him to fit two in his mouth at a time. Or, as he calls it, double balling.

The guy next to him eyes me up and down, as if he thinks I’m considering challenging him for the honorary best bud spot next to my Joe-bro. I mean, not that I didn’t consider it for all of a second. But I’m not that petty. I could take him, though.

“You do realize, as my wingman, you’re supposed to find me dates, right? Not scare them off?” My mouth drops open as it dawns on me what he’s saying. “That dude was flirting?” “He was flirting,” Joey confirms. “Oh my God,” I whisper, looking around. The guy is long gone. “I didn’t even realize! He wasn’t very good at it.” Joey huffs a laugh. “Well, how could he compete when your dick was waving an enthusiastic hello?” I snort. It was kinda like he was waving. “J-bae, my dude, any guy of yours is going to have to get used to my dick being around. So, clearly, he wasn’t the one.”

Hey, wanna head to that gay bar after this? They have nachos, so we can get some grub and scope out future Mr. Delgados. Just…maybe avoid the back rooms, dude. They are not clean.” Joey rubs his temple. “Have you actually been in the back rooms?” “Honest mistake,” I tell him. “I thought there was candy.”

“So are we slamming some nachos or what?” I ask, swinging my bag over my shoulder as Joey holds the door open for me. So polite. “And then we can find you some dick!” The guy passing on the sidewalk looks over in alarm. “Don’t make it weird,” I tell him. “No one likes homophobia.” He moves along swiftly.

“I mean, your everything, man. You give good hugs, and your eyes are warm and always nice. You’re strong, so you could probably carry someone out of danger if need be. And, as I’ve heard from many, many guys tonight, you have a great ass. Which, dude, you do. Even I can admit that.”

“Plus,” Brad goes on, utterly serious, “you make people happy, Joey. You’re calm and patient and genuinely kind. You’re flexible in your thinking, but not so much that you’d compromise your morals. And I’m not sure if you know this, but sometimes you smell like sawdust. Like those happy memories you mentioned from your childhood. I could see that becoming someone else’s happy memory, too, you know? You’re a catch. Inside and out. And someday, you’re going to make the right guy very happy.”

“Besides, I had a thought.” “Yeah? What’s that?” It’s a bad idea—the absolute worst, really. But knowing that doesn’t stop me. “You mentioned wanting someone to cuddle with.” Brad goes still. “Are you proposing what I think you’re proposing?” “Cuddle sesh?” I offer. His responding smile has me feeling things I have no right to. “Dude, you’re not going to regret this,” he says, slipping off my lap. “I’m such a good cuddler—you have no idea. You’re going down.” I banish that mental image immediately. “You realize it’s not a competition, right? We’re on the same side?” He pfts as we walk toward the door. “That’s what you think. But just wait until you feel what my hands are capable of. I’ll have you flat on your back in no time.”

Family isn’t always given, you know? Sometimes it’s earned. And I think that makes it all the more important. Choosing to love? I don’t think there’s anything greater than that.”

“Ready to eat my butt?” Joey’s eyes flare wide. “Shit, that wasn’t right,” I mutter. It only takes a second to click. “Ah. Ready to eat my dust?” “Did you just combine that with the phrase ‘kick my butt’?” Joey asks. “Sure did.”

“Joey,” I say seriously, “don’t settle, okay? We’ll find someone to walk down that aisle with you.” His smile is soft. “How can you be so sure?” I shrug before wiping the sweat off my forehead. “Because I’m determined. I promised I’d find you your guy, and there’s no way your guy won’t want to give you everything you deserve. He’s out there; I know he is. I’ll hook you up, J-dawg, even if it’s the last thing I do.” Joey’s lips twitch. “You’re starting to sound like my pimp.” “Your marriage pimp!” I say with a snort. “Can that be my official title?” “It’ll go right on the certificate,” he deadpans.

I grab a banana. “You’re still buying me donuts,” I remind him, peeling my fruit. “Yep.” “I deserve some sugary carbs.” “Bananas are sugary ca—” Joey cuts off into a round of choking, and I look at him in alarm, quickly finishing my bite. “Dude, you all right?” I ask, stepping forward to slap his back. “You just…you went for it, didn’t you?” he says, voice hoarse. It takes me a second to understand he’s talking about my banana, half of which is now gone. “If they’re really small, I can usually get them in one go,” I tell him proudly. “But this one’s a beast. Two-biter for sure.”

“Joey-broey,” he says in greeting, smiling like always. “I’m so ready to choke on your meat, it’s not even funny.” “What?” I cough out. “Your family’s barbecue,” he says as if it’s obvious. “I’m starved. You caught me before I had a chance to eat lunch.”

My voice is hoarse when I say, “Then be a good boy for me and get out of the truck.” Brad blinks, his mouth falling open. “Dude. Did you just use your sex voice on me?” “What?” I squeak. “That was…that was not your normal voice, man.”

But Joey is paddling us around, and I’m along for the ride like some sort of barnacle. A barnacle that’s essentially lying on top of him. “You’re my own personal Joey-float,” I say with a huff of laughter. “And I didn’t even have to blow you.” A second passes—the quietest second in existence—before I hastily add, “Up. I didn’t have to blow you up.” He chuckles, his eyes practically sparkling as he swims around the deep end of the pool. “Nope. I’m all prepped and ready to go.” I squint at him. “Was that an anal joke?”

“You…you don’t know how to swim? How didn’t I know that?” “I dunno,” I say with a shrug. “Guess it never really came up. Not like we ever went to the beach or anything.” “I…” He trails off with what sounds suspiciously like a growl. “The fuck. I feel like a terrible friend for not knowing that.” “Hey, man. It’s okay. Not your fault. I bet you didn’t know I like having my face sat on, either. Some things just don’t come up in conversation.” “Bee,” my friend says slowly. “The fact that you’re putting queening and not knowing how to swim in the same category is—you know what? No. It’s not weird at all. I don’t even know why I’m surprised.

It takes me longer than I’d like to admit to realize Brad is also wearing a fanny pack. A neon green one. And on the front… “Bub,” I say slowly. “Does that have my name on it?” Brad grins, stopping near the front of his vehicle. Joey shines in gaudy jewels on the front of his fanny pack. “Yeah, man! We match. Matching packs.” “Shouldn’t we be wearing our own names?” I ask, more than a little bewildered. He scoffs. “No way. Like this, everyone will know we’re besties. Bros gotta look out for each other’s fannies, dude.” I…have no words.

“You know that’s perfectly fine, right?” “But he’s my friend,” I hiss. “It’s pretty rude to imagine painting his stomach, don’t you think?” “Painting his stomach with… No, I got it,” he says. “You know a lot of relationships start as friendships, right?” “Sure,” I say slowly. “But… I’ve never wanted to come on a dude before. What if it’s just…I don’t know. Some kind of primal urge? Like, some sort of caveman this is my friend so I’ll mark him as mine thing?” Cas is quiet for a couple seconds. “I really don’t think that’s a thing.”

Have you talked to him about how you’re feeling?” “No,” I admit, voice quiet. “I just realized, so now I’m hiding between his garage and a shrubbery. I don’t know what to say.” He huffs a laugh. “Maybe start with something other than creaming his abs.” “Holy fuck,” I whisper. “Why does that sound so hot?”

I can do this. As I head back upstairs, I construct possible conversation starters in my head. Hey, Joey. Turns out I might be a dab queer. Joseph-broseph. Question. Do you like cum play? Asking for a friend. Joey Kangaroo. Can I hop on you? Jesus Christ, I’m screwed.

“Hey, Joey?” I say, trying not to let my nerves show. He waits patiently. Always patient. “So, uh, it turns out I really like your face. And, if you’re still amenable, I’d very much like to greet your tonsils with my tongue.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, my breath coming short. “Was that too much?” “No, no,” he answers quickly, his gaze slipping downward. “It’s just, uh… Ho-hooo-ly shit, is that a big hammer you’ve got pressed to my hip.” I step quickly back, cursing my carelessness. Brad’s gaze stays zeroed in on my crotch, his eyes wide. “He’s a gregarious fellow, isn’t he?” he says with a nervous laugh. “Just really wanted to pop up and say hello.”

“I don’t have a perfect answer,” he says. “All I know is I understand cum gutters now because of you, and I’m pretty sure I’d like to test yours out if you’d let me.”

His brow creases. “So, we’d be…what? Bros with bennies?” I huff a laugh, hands tightening on his legs. “We can call it that. And if you decide it’s not for you? That’s fine. Sometimes people are just curious.” The look he gives me is amusingly stern. “Joey Kangaroo, my dude, my guy, I think if the things I’m envisioning you doing while you’re down on your knees are the opposite of off-putting, then I’m not as straight as I thought I was.”

“I like this, you know,” he says. “You on top of me. Smothering me. Feels good.” Fuuuck. I rub my nose over his skin, breathe him in, nip gently. “Oh, shit,” Brad whispers. “There’s Greg again, huh?” I pause, my lips on his neck. “Did you name my dick Greg? As in…gregarious?” “Yeah?” “Of course you did,”

Before I can open my mouth to ask what’s wrong, he tackles me onto the couch cushions. “The fuck,” I squeak. “You dick,” he says, grabbing a pillow and shoving it on my face. “I can’t believe you told Cas about your big gay revelation before me!” “Are…are you trying to smother me with a pillow?” I mumble into the fabric. “We’re supposed to be friends.” “We are,” I groan. “Ugh. You’re not even struggling,” he complains, pressing the pillow against me harder before tossing it away. “It’s no fun if you don’t struggle.” “Whoa,” I breathe. “Birdie, that was grim.”

“So? Was it okay?” “Wait, what?” I ask, sitting upright. “Did he treat you with respect?” he practically huffs. “Was it good?” Slowly, it sinks in what he’s asking. “Oh my God,” I whisper. “You precious baby bird, you care.” Jason scowls at me. “You love me,” I say in glee. “Admit it. Tell me you love me and care about me and want to make sure my queer deflowering was everything I’d hoped and wished it would be.” “I regret everything,” he moans, dropping his head back against the couch. I pat his face. “You lovely little dumpling, Joey and I didn’t have sex.” He stills, and I pull my hand away before he can bite it.

“And dude, I really don’t know if I’m a drill or be drilled kinda guy, but I’m looking forward to finding out. So I need you to tell me everything you know about lube. And douching. Oh, and do you think Joey and I should jump straight into handcuffs or save them for a special occasion? Birdie? Where are you going?” “Need a drink,” he calls from the kitchen.

“But tell me more about this tongue thing. I can do that to his ass?” Jason drops his face into his hands. Yeah. I think this whole queer-awakening thing is going smashingly.

My eyes, incidentally, drop to his crotch, and I quickly avert my gaze. Joey looks amused as he turns his treadmill on. “Feeling okay?” “Me? Oh, just swell. Not that I’m swelling. Gosh, no. None of that. Because it’d be inappropriate. At a gym. Which…heh. Swole. It’s kinda the same but not at all, you know?” And oh my God, someone stop me. Joey chuckles, as if he actually followed that train of thought, and starts off at a jog. My eyes slip down again. So much thigh.

“Are you wearing a jock?” I breathe reverently. Joey smirks, and yep. It’s official. I’ve left the mortal plane. It’s the only explanation for why I feel suddenly weightless, the only sound in my ears the whoosh of air and clouds around me. “At least you’re in my Heaven,” I mumble. “What?” Joey asks around a laugh, starting his reps. “Just that I’m fairly certain you’re a literal angel, and I’ve never been between a guy’s thighs before, but I’m a little jealous of that empty space between yours.”

“Now eat up so we can screw.” His eyes widen, and then he coughs. “Fool—tool around. Christ, you know what I mean. So you can show me your tool. Your hammer. Oh my God, what is happening?”

He has a smile on his face the entire time we work, and when I point out the nails he’s removing are called brads, he gleefully starts making jokes. “Fuck, that brad was tight. Really had to wiggle my way in.” “Heh. Wanna watch me hammer myself?” “Hello, brad. I’m Brad. Prepare to meet your doom, as there can only be one.” I wonder if he’d prefer a spring or fall wedding.

“I’ve tapped a thousand brads, but not one of them measures up to you.”