Push & Pull (The Midwest Series Book 2) Page 3

  “Fine. But you can do the work figuring out where to stay because I drove myself nuts trying to find this place.”

  Lowell patted his forearm before pulling away. “Don’t you worry about that, honey. I’ll take care of it. What were you planning to do in Chicago while we’re here?”

  “Boystown.”

  “You’re going to wear yourself out if you do all of Boystown.” His wink and innuendo made Brent look away. He knew Lowell was flirty, but he’d never had it directed at him for an extended period of time before. It was a little overwhelming.

  “Nathan and I were just going to check out the neighborhood. Go to the clubs and stuff.”

  “So mostly nightlife, right?” Brent nodded. “What did you want to do during the day?”

  “Well, I’ve always wanted to go to Shedd Aquarium, and we have two tickets already paid for.”

  “I’ve been there a million times, and it’s amaaaaazing,” Lowell gushed. “You’re gonna love it. Oh, I love the Art Institute and the Field Museum too.”

  “Uhh, I’m not really that big a fan of museums,” Brent admitted. “Although the Museum of Science and Industry sounded pretty cool, so Nathan and I planned to go there.”

  “Sure, no problem,” Lowell said with a smile. “I’ve been there a few times, and it’s awesome. How long are we staying?”

  “Three full days, so we’d leave Saturday morning. I figured stuff would be cheaper and less crowded during the week.”

  “Good thinking. Is there anything else you had planned?”

  Brent shrugged. “I’d hoped to do a Cubs game, but it’ll have to be nosebleed seats.”

  “Oh, I can hook you up with better tickets.”

  Glancing over, Brent frowned at him. “You know someone?”

  Lowell smirked. “You could say that. I’ll tell you more later, okay? Just trust me; tickets will be completely taken care of, and neither of us will have to pay a dime.”

  “Okay.” Brent was skeptical, but he couldn’t deny his excitement at the thought of checking out a Cubs game from a seat close enough to actually see the players. “Cool.”

  “So, I’m thinking we’ll stay at a place called The Park Hotel. It’s on Clark Street and about halfway between the Boystown/Wrigley Stadium area and the Loop. It has great views of Lincoln Park and the lake, and I know for a fact we won’t get bedbugs there.” Despite himself, Brent chuckled.

  Lowell continued, “It’s not an LGBTQ certified hotel, but I’ve never had a problem there.”

  “What the hell is an LGBTQ certified hotel?” Brent asked, bewildered.

  “Well, basically, they have an official policy stating they’re queer friendly. If someone hassles a gay or lesbian couple or whatever, they’ll back them. That way, people know where it’s safe to stay.” Lowell’s smile was tight. “Trust me; it matters. My high school friends and I got hassled a lot. That’s what happens when you’re a bunch of skinny little twinks.”

  “Shit, that sucks.”

  “It does, but we won’t have to worry about anything at The Park.” Lowell’s expression smoothed out, and he patted Brent’s arm, his fingertips cold against Brent’s skin.

  Jesus, Lowell’s hands feel like ice. It’s almost seventy degrees and sunny out, Brent thought, feeling vaguely guilty. He said he was okay earlier, but maybe I was blasting the AC too much.

  “Now, switch seats with me. I’m driving,” Lowell said.

  Bossy little thing, Brent thought, but he couldn’t really complain since it was Lowell’s car, and he clearly knew exactly where they were going. After they switched places, Brent checked the temperature controls to be sure the cold air wasn’t blowing straight at the driver’s side.

  Lowell deftly backed out of the spot and pulled onto the street. Brent tried not to let his jaw drop at the way he handled the car. Brent watched the relaxed, confident way he drove and chastised himself for being surprised. It was Lowell’s car after all; why wouldn’t he know how to drive it well? Ugh, maybe he had been kind of a dick for making assumptions about Lowell.

  As Lowell navigated the streets without using the GPS, Brent studied him, curious to know more about the guy he was spending the next two months with. “So how do you know Chicago this well?”

  Lowell chuckled and smoothly downshifted as they approached the light. “I grew up here, sweets. Well, not Chicago, but Winnetka.”

  Brent was familiar enough with the area to know that Winnetka was a stupidly expensive suburb. “That’s north of the city, right?”

  “Yep. Gorgeous but not nearly as much fun as the city. My friends and I came downtown all the time. Better than the country clubs, you know? We practically lived in Boystown on the weekends.”

  “Really?”

  Lowell smiled. “The bouncers knew me by name, and they knew better than to card me even though I was underage.”

  Brent snorted. “You probably blew them.”

  “Fuck you, Brent.” Lowell’s tone was biting. “This trip is going to get really old really fast if you spend all your time slut shaming me.”

  Feeling a wash of guilt, Brent nodded. He’d only been kidding, but he had been a dick to Lowell so far, and he couldn’t blame him for assuming he was serious. “I’m sorry. That was shitty of me. I’m just on edge from the way this whole trip got fucked up. I’m pissed at Nathan and Caleb and annoyed with you being here instead and ...” He sighed.

  Lowell’s face softened, and when they pulled up to a light, he glanced over at Brent. “I get that we all went about this really badly, but can we please make a truce? I’ll try to be less bossy if you’ll stop giving me shit about my sex life.”

  “It’s a deal.” Brent was silent for a few minutes. “So, uh, what do you want to do after we check into the hotel?”

  “Well, I was thinking we could grab dinner somewhere and spend the evening wandering Boystown, but I don’t want to be too pushy. Is that okay with you?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Brent rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms on his cargo shorts, imagining what it would be like to actually be out and acting on it for the first time in his life.

  Man, this is going to be weird, he thought as he watched the buildings of Chicago fly by. Good, but weird.

  He glanced over at Lowell, who quickly maneuvered the powerful car through the crowded streets. He felt a little thrill run through him.

  Huh. Maybe this trip wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  Chapter Three

  May 26, 2013 – Chicago, Illinois

  Lowell

  “Park view or lake view?” Lowell asked over his shoulder, but Brent seemed lost in his own world. He was looking around the lobby like he’d never been in a hotel before. It was a stylish place with a preppy and eclectic contemporary vibe, but it wasn’t that extraordinary. Lowell snapped his fingers to get Brent’s attention.

  “Huh?” Brent turned to him with a startled expression.

  “Focus, sweets. Do we want our room to overlook the lake or the park?”

  Brent shrugged. “Uh, I don’t care. You said you’d been here before, right?”

  Lowell nodded. He’d stayed here quite a few times with friends when they spent the entire weekend in the city and didn’t feel like driving back to Winnetka.

  “Then you can pick.”

  Lowell turned back to the hotel clerk with a smile. “Park view, please. If our room is high enough we’ll be able to see the lake anyway.” The latter part was meant for Brent, but he had wandered away again.

  The clerk smiled at Lowell. “We may have something available, sir. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Once the room reservation was set, Lowell slipped his credit card back into his wallet and handed Brent one of the key cards. “We’re in seven-oh-four. We got a park view.”

  “Cool.”

  “I’m going to suggest we take the elevator.”

  “Good call. Although coach would love it if I took the stairs.” Brent gestured toward the staircase near the check-in de
sk, with red painted walls filled with random, eclectic paintings. “Man, that’s weird. I’m so used to training for hockey. I’m not sure what to do with myself now that it’s over.”

  “How about we haul our bags up to the room on the elevator? We can take the stairs when we don’t have our hands full,” Lowell said. “I’m all for a workout, but I can think of better ones.”

  Brent rolled his eyes.

  “Why, Lowell Prescott, is that you?”

  Lowell turned to see Ricky Chavez smiling at him. Lowell squealed and grinned at him, delighted to see his old friend. “Hey, honey, how are you?”

  “I’m good!” Ricky grinned, his smile gleaming against his rich brown skin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you around here. What are you doing in Chicago, girl?”

  When Lowell had first met Ricky, he’d worn the standard uniform of a hotel bellhop, but he now wore a nice suit and his nametag said manager. “Wow, quite the upgrade,” Lowell teased, flicking the tag with his fingertip.

  Ricky shrugged and gave him another dazzling, lopsided grin. “I worked the desk for years, but when I finished my degree, I got hired as manager.”

  “Awesome. I’m happy for you.” Lowell leaned in for a hug. Ricky had looked out for Lowell and his friends when they’d stayed at The Park, and Lowell had a soft spot for him.

  Ricky squeezed his upper arm as he drew back. “Seriously, though, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Michigan.”

  “I graduated a few weeks ago, and now I’m taking a road trip with a friend.” Lowell gestured to Brent, who had been intently watching them. “Brent, this is Ricky Chavez. Ricky, this is Brent Cameron.”

  They shook hands while Lowell gave Ricky a once-over. He really did look great. He wasn’t exactly Lowell’s type and was maybe ten years older than him and Brent, but he was gorgeous.

  “So, how long are you boys going to be in town?” Ricky asked.

  “Just for a few days,” Lowell said. “Do you have any drag shows scheduled?”

  “No, I don’t have anything until next week. I’m sorry. I would have been happy to give you comp tickets.”

  Lowell pouted. “What a shame we’ll miss it. You’re always the prettiest queen in Boystown.”

  Ricky struck a pose. “You know it.” His voice turned breathless and sultry.

  Raised voices at the desk made them both look over, and Ricky frowned. “Looks like I’m needed. Make sure you say hi again while you’re here, and maybe we can catch up for a bit?”

  “I’d love that.”

  Ricky leaned in and gave Lowell another quick hug. “Glad to see you, Lowell. Let me know if there’s anything you or Brent need while you’re here. Just call the desk and ask for me. I’ll make it happen.”

  “Thanks! Take care.” Lowell waggled his fingers in goodbye as Ricky stepped away.

  “Sorry about the trip down memory lane,” Lowell said with a laugh as he turned back to face Brent.

  “Whatever.” Brent frowned and hefted his duffle bag and laptop bag on his shoulder. “Let’s just find the room.”

  What the fuck is that about? Lowell wondered as he lifted his Burberry weekender bag and wheeled his matching suitcase toward the elevator. It had seemed like Brent had relaxed, and now he was being all short-tempered and grouchy again.

  Brent was silent on the ride in the elevator, and Lowell resisted the urge to shake him and ask what was going on in his head. The hot and cold mood swings since the trip started were getting old fast.

  “You know, I’m surprised you didn’t ask for a room with one bed,” Brent said when he pushed open the door of 704 to reveal two queen-size beds.

  Lowell wheeled his suitcase inside and set them on the floor before crossing his arms to glare at Brent. “I don’t know what’s put you in such a shitty mood again, but I’m not a predator, and I’m not going to try to take advantage of you in your sleep.”

  “You don’t have to get prissy with me, Lowell.” Brent dumped his bags on the bed closest to the door and flopped onto the open space left.

  “Prissy?” Lowell bristled. “I’m not being prissy, thank you. I am insulted by the fact you think I’m that manipulative.”

  “I was just kidding, but I’m sorry I offended your delicate sensibilities.” Brent snorted and threw his arms up over his head, propping his head on his hands, which made his shirt lift and exposed the smooth skin between his navel and low-slung cargo shorts. The hair on his legs was golden brown, but Lowell couldn’t see a single hair below his navel. He could, however, see the well-defined V of his Adonis belt.

  Hello, abs.

  Lowell turned away before he made the stupid mistake of fantasizing about licking his way down the crest of his hip until he reached Brent’s cock.

  Brent might be hot, but apparently, he was also an asshole. How disappointing.

  Lowell found the suitcase stand in the closet and set it up along the wall by the window. He wheeled his suitcase over and reached for the handle.

  “Need some help with that?”

  “What?” He turned to face Brent, who was sitting up now, staring at him.

  “That looks pretty heavy. Do you need help?”

  Lowell turned away, lifted his suitcase effortlessly onto the rack, and unzipped the suitcase with decisive motions, annoyed that Brent—like everyone else—underestimated his strength. “No, I do not,” he said tartly.

  Brent huffed and flopped back onto the bed again. “Fine. I was just offering.”

  May 26, 2013 – Chicago, Illinois

  Brent

  Brent had just begun to drift off when Lowell spoke. “I’m going to hop in the shower. I figure we’ll leave for dinner in an hour and a half or so?”

  “Sure, sounds good.” Brent reached for the remote and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels until he found a Cubs game. They were playing the Nationals, and they led 1-0 in the fifth inning.

  Brent dicked around on his phone while he watched the game, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Lowell in the shower. To distract himself, he checked Facebook, but every notification he saw from Nathan had Caleb tagged in it, which reminded him that Nathan was supposed to be here, not Lowell. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration.

  Of course, he and Nathan would have been staying in the roach motel instead of this place, he admitted to himself. And this place was damn nice. It was every bit as old as the first hotel, but it was recently updated and, most importantly, clean. The lobby downstairs was modern and funky, and the rooms were great. The sheets were bright white, and the navy blue cover looked brand-new. Definitely no bed bugs here. He shifted on the plush, comfy mattress and thought about the comment he’d made about the single bed. He felt like an ass about that. He brushed a hand across the soft sheets, feeling guilty. He really had been kidding when he made the crack about the bed, but what was it people said about jokes? There was always at least some truth to them, right? Was it that he wanted to share a bed with Lowell?

  Brent sighed noisily and stared up at the ceiling, frustration and confusion swirling in his head as he tried to figure out what had made him feel so damn uncomfortable that he’d lashed out at Lowell.

  He hadn’t minded Lowell calling him pet names and asking what kind of view he wanted. Brent figured the hotel clerk assumed they were together, but that didn’t really bother him. Lowell was hot, smart, and, apparently, rich. There were way worse guys to have people think he was screwing.

  It was Lowell’s conversation with Ricky that set Brent’s teeth on edge. Ricky reminded him of Micah, the baseball player he’d been screwing for the past year—they both had coppery brown skin, thick black hair, and dark eyes—but their looks were all they had in common. Micah was all macho jock, and Ricky was definitely ... not. The guy seemed nice, and he had a pretty enough face that he probably made a really great looking drag queen, but he brought out a side of Lowell that made Brent feel weird as hell.

  Their interaction had made Brent want to te
ll Lowell to tone it down, but he’d managed to bite his tongue, knowing that wasn’t fair. Brent had been fine with people thinking he and Lowell were together until he started acting like ... that. And he wasn’t quite sure why.

  Brent wasn’t like Micah, hating the idea of any guy being out. In fact, Brent had liked Lowell’s attitude before this trip. He’d even defended Lowell to Micah after he called Lowell a cock-hungry twink. Micah’s dislike of Lowell had never made sense to Brent. So why was he suddenly acting just as bad? Why had he used those words to make Lowell feel shitty? Putting aside the way Lowell had weaseled his way into the trip, why was he suddenly uncomfortable around Lowell?

  There was no hiding Lowell’s exuberance, and why should he have to act different just because it made Brent uncomfortable?

  Yeah, Lowell had been pushy, but without him, Brent’s trip would have been dead in the water. And all things considered, Lowell had been pretty nice to him. He’d even asked for a room with a view so Brent could enjoy it.

  Brent sat up and walked to the window, pulling back the blue shade. He peered out the window and saw a huge expanse of grass and trees from the park below and the blue of Lake Michigan just past it.

  “Wow,” Brent whispered, feeling like a complete asshole.

  Yeah, he was a colossal jerk for being so ungrateful. Brent and Nathan had spent the last couple of years bitching about how society—not to mention sports—shoved guys into little boxes and told them they couldn’t succeed unless they were acting macho as hell. Why was he treating Lowell like crap for not fitting into that box?

  And why was everything so fucking confusing all of a sudden?

  Maybe if he managed to keep his mouth shut and stopped acting like a jerk, they could have fun on this trip. It probably wouldn’t kill him to tell Lowell “thank you” either. His mom had raised him better than the way he’d been acting.

  Brent heard the bathroom door open, and despite his better judgment, he turned to look. Lowell walked out in a cloud of steam, wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist. Brent’s mouth went dry at the sight. Far from being skinny, Lowell had a lean, tight build with the kind of body fat percentage Brent envied. Clearly, Lowell worked out.