Page 78 of Point of Contact

It all made for one very attractive package, and Trevor certainly wasn’t immune.

“What’re you thinking about? You’re staring.”

Trevor fervently hoped his face didn’t look as red as it felt. “Oh. I, uh—nothing. Just wondering what we were gonna do tomorrow, that’s all.”

“Well, let’s see.” Jesse linked his hands behind his neck and gazed thoughtfully up at the sky. The pose made his biceps bulge and exposed the tufts of blond hair in his armpits, along with a glimpse of a firm brown nipple when his tank top shifted to the side. “Riley and I spent several days here in Waikiki before we branched out to other parts of the island. What did you have in mind? Do you want to follow along with what we did exactly, or play it by ear?”

Draining his beer, Trevor set the bottle down with a clink. “That depends,” he said drily, “on what you did in Waikiki. Did you go out clubbing every night, hook up?”

“We had our fun,” Jesse allowed, a bashful look crossing his face. “Riley, uh, actually went to a gay bar with me. Said it was only fair since I’d gone to so many straight clubs with him.”

“Yeah? How did that go? And I don’t need all the dirty details,” Trevor said hastily when Jesse winced. “I mean—”

“It was great,” Jesse cut in. “He danced with me. When guys hit on him—and guys hit on him a lot—he didn’t make a big deal of it by yelling how straight he was. He just said he was off the market. It was an awesome night.”

Trevor looked at him, picturing him sweaty from dancing, relaxed and having a good time with his best friend. I bet you were simply stunning that night, Jess. Those lucky men.

Pushing his own beer bottle away, Jesse stood. “How about we go for a sunset swim? Then we can shower and get ready for dinner, if you want.”

They left the bar and grabbed some towels from their resort’s towel cart before scuffing through the sand to an empty patch of beach. Trevor stripped his tank top off and followed Jesse to wade into the gentle surf. A wave surged up against Trevor’s thighs, and he yelped at the slight chill, earning himself a splash of water to the chest from a grinning Jesse.

“Wimp.”

With a gasp of outrage Trevor splashed him back, and laughing, they struck out away from shore, swimming for a few dozen yards before stopping to tread water and watch the setting sun. Despite the sky’s dazzling display, he couldn’t take his eyes off Jesse—skin sleek and golden in the dying light, his lips slightly parted with the exertion of swimming.

A sudden swell lifted him and pushed him up against Jesse, who wrapped his arm around him with a murmured “Whoops.” For a few moments they drifted together, bodies brushing, until Jesse let his arm drop away. The brief contact left Trevor tingling and hard again.

God, you really are a mess, Trev.

They swam leisurely until the light was gone, and at last made their way back to the beach to snatch up their towels. Quick showers, followed by a delicious dinner at a Japanese restaurant Jesse said was one of Riley’s favorite discoveries, and then Jesse suggested they wander the streets of Waikiki for a while.

“There’s an old outdoor marketplace a few blocks over that we got a kick out of.”

As they ambled down the sidewalks, Trevor gaped at the crowds, at the glitzy high-end stores, at the street performers. The night was warm and balmy, the breeze filled with the sound of people’s laughter, and music. Sunburned tourists streamed in and out of one high-rise hotel after the other, and nestled in the bustling middle of it all was what appeared to be a large open-air bazaar with a wooden sign stretching across the entrance proclaiming the International Market Place.

Trevor didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was charmed by the collection of kiosks with funny roofs, the live parrots and koi pond, the enormous old banyan tree. A tarot reader’s tiny bamboo booth nestled up against the tree’s trunk, which was covered in the graffiti of what must’ve been decades of visitors.

He and Jesse wandered through an endless maze of jewelry displays and kitschy souvenirs, and at one point Trevor’s eye fell on a small store selling what looked to be sauces and spice rubs.

“Kilauea Fire Barbecue Sauce?” he exclaimed, making a beeline for the entrance of the store. “I just have to try that!” He browsed the samples, dipping tiny cubes of bread into the different sauces. “Jesus. Fire, indeed,” he wheezed, fanning his face with his hand. “I’ll take it.”

As the smiling clerk rang up his purchase, Trevor noticed Jesse standing off to the side with his hands crammed in the pockets of his khaki shorts, his face pale.

“Mahalo,” the clerk called after them, and Trevor touched Jesse’s arm.

“You okay?”

Jesse’s lips were pressed tightly together. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said at last. “Just a little tired.”

“Well, let’s call it a night, then. Come on.”

There was a T-shirt shop at the entrance to the marketplace, and when they passed it, Jesse glanced inside. A visible tremor went through him.

Trevor stopped. “Talk to me,” he ordered softly, and Jesse shook his head.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just that store—”

Trevor followed his gaze. There was nothing special about the store. In fact, the T-shirts on display were ones Trevor had seen at least a dozen times already, mass-produced, some with stupid sayings on them. There were racks of them arrayed on the sidewalk, tourists browsing through them.