You Get What You Paid For Ch 05

When Adam realizes I've stopped following him, he turns and laughs at my stunned expression. "Ted?"

I just stare. "*This* is where you wanted to take me?" I ask, happy I let him convince me to at least wear a button-up and the nicest jeans I own. I was perfectly content slumming it in sweatpants and a t-shirt, but with Adam dressed in some crisp, belted, form-fitting slacks and the most luxurious-looking black crewneck I have ever seen, it was clear this date was going to be special.

"Yes," he says, walking back over to me. With a smile, he slides his hand down to mine and locks our fingers together. "C'mon."

I let him pull me further down the dock towards the plank that leads up to the deck of a yacht - a fucking *yacht*. He said he wanted to take me somewhere simple, but either he has some wild notions about simplicity or he was just teasing me. It's beautiful, though. Since it's nighttime, crossed strings of hanging lights illuminate the deck with a soft, romantic glow. Cushioned benches line most of the perimeter of the back, all decorated with throw pillows and more ropes of lights wrapped around the railings. There's a small table with a cooler of what looks to be champagne placed in the center, surrounded by skinny white candles. And is that music? Jazz? It's soft, and I can't tell exactly where it's coming from - but it's the perfect volume for me to feel relaxed.

"Is this... yours?" I ask, bewildered. I wasn't aware he owned a damn yacht.

"Well... No," Adam says with a laugh, letting go of my hand so I can look around. "It belongs to one of my friends from work, so be nice to the yacht or I'll have hell to pay."

Jesus, who knew being an escort would be this lucrative. "It's... impressive," I say, eyeing how immaculate everything looks.

"Yeah?" Adam asks. "Not too much?"

Surprisingly, no. When I look past the fact that it's a yacht, it has a quaint sort of feel to it. It doesn't look like it'd be the type of yacht to feature a frat party. Something intimate and classy seems more fitting. "It's great," I say, looking back at him with a smile.

"Good." He smiles back at me for a soft moment before a thought pops into his head. "Oh! Champagne!" he says, heading right over to the table. I chuckle at him before I head to the very back of the boat, standing in front of the railing and looking off into Lower Bay, watching the way the moon and the lights on the yacht reflect off the water. Adam dragged me all the way to Staten Island for our "first real date", and I'm glad he did. A quiet night on the water, with no one else in sight? It's quite romantic of him.

He comes up behind me stealthily enough to sneak a kiss on my neck, and I chuckle a bit, turning towards him as he stands next to me and offers me a glass. I take it, mouth watering at the sight of the bubbly champagne as I start to bring the drink to my lips. But Adam stops me. "You're supposed to do cheers, first," he says.

I cock and eyebrow. "Is that escort tradition or something?" I joke.

"That's an everywhere tradition. Get with it," he says, grinning at me before clearing his throat and standing up straighter. "I'll keep it short 'n sweet: cheers to... further exploring what we already have."

It may be a short toast, but it hits me in the best way. I feel my chest almost humming to me, vibrating softly, contentedly. I smile gently. "That was kinda beautiful," I admit, reaching over to gently tug on his shirt.

"You're supposed to say 'Cheers'," he mutters playfully.

I roll my eyes, clinking my glass against his. "Cheers, you idiot," I say.

He laughs as he brings the rim of his glass to his lips and gulps down some of the champagne. I do the same, the fizz tickling as it goes down my throat. "So," Adam says, "the plan is to relax and enjoy the evening. Hope you're okay with that."

"I'm very okay with that," I tell him, smiling brightly.

"I figured," he says with a grin. "I'm having dinner delivered, so it should be here in..." - he checks his phone quickly - "well, any minute now."

"Delivered, huh?"

"Yup. We're having Fijian albacore sashimi and a pea tendril salad topped with glazed hazelnuts and drizzled with an agrie-doux melon cilantro vinaigrette."

I stare at him blankly, completely pausing. "Seriously?" I ask, wondering if my face gives away the fact that I understood basically nothing that he just said.

But turns out he was joking. He breaks his deadpan presentation of that joke with a laugh. "No," he says chuckling to himself. "I got pizza."

"Oh, thank God," I say with a sigh of intense relief, laughing before I push his chest. "You really fucking had me." He knows pretentious-, expensive-sounding meals scare me, and I was afraid that he took this whole "official first date" thing too far.

"I know you don't like all that fancy nonsense," he says, "so I figured we'd keep it simple."

I smile gently, appreciating that he understands me - though I do want to tease him a bit. "Having a moonlit dinner on a yacht is simple?"

"A 'Thank you' would suffice," he says with a grin.

I bite my lip, tugging on his gold chain playfully. "Thank you, Adam."

"You're welcome, Teddy," he says softly, looking me up and down with a grin. "You look handsome tonight."

"You said that already," I say with a little smile.

"And I'm saying it again. You look damn handsome."

I bite my lip a bit, trying not to grin too widely. "But do I look kissable?" I ask coyly.

Adam laughs gently, staring at me for a soft moment before his eyes flicker to my hand. Then, he reaches forward to take my champagne from me. He sets both of our glasses calmly on the table before coming back to me with a sultry expression on his face. I swallow thickly as he gets close enough to reach forward, hold my sides, and press me against the railing as he pushes his lips against mine.

Like with every kiss between me and Adam, I melt. I feel that warmth spread over me like thick honey, from my lips to my damn toes. I hold my hands on his arms, sighing softly through my nose as we kiss back and forth like a waltz, keeping measured time, responding to every move in perfect synchrony, slow and sexy. His head leans into me more, just lightly bending me back against the railing as he feeds me a soft nudge of his tongue. My lips instinctively part, inviting him in, and me hums softly when he enters my mouth. I let my hands work on auto-pilot, feeling them slide up his arms and across his shoulders, one of which gets into his impossibly-soft hair. I stroke, and comb, and tug, and he grunts softly, only giving me more tongue - enough for me to catch between my lips and softly suck.

Then, we hear a voice coming from the dock. "Hello?"

Adam groans against my lips before pulling back slowly, smiling and keeping close. "That's probably the pizza," I say, laughing gently as I run my palms over his chest.

"We'll pick this up later," he murmurs before pecking my lips again and then turning towards the dock. "Up here!" Adam shouts, giving my ass a firm squeeze. I slap his hand away just as our delivery guy waltzes up the plank, looking around with intrigue before his eyes settle on us. "Looking for me?" Adam asks with a charming tone.

"Are you, uh..." The kid glances at the receipt. "Adam?"

"That I am," he says, sliding away from me. He walks up to our delivery guy to take the box from him. After tipping him handsomely, he sends the boy on his way and places the pizza on the table, lifting the lid with a grin. "Well, here we are," he says. "One simple cheese pizza, since you're boring and don't like toppings."

"Don't be mean," I say defensively, coming over to him, slightly aroused by that alluring aroma. I stand next to him, up against his side, and kiss his cheek as he looks down at the pizza with a playfully disdainful look. "At least I like tops," I tease.

That makes him laugh heartily, reaching around me to paw at my ass again. "Thank God you do," he says with a grin before he steals another kiss from me, simply turning his face towards mine and leaning his head forward to make our lips meet. He hums softly into the kiss, and when I pull back, he smiles to himself. "Damn, Teddy," he murmurs. "You very well might be my second favorite kisser."

I snort. "Second?"

"Maybe third," he says with a teasing grin. "You're at least tied for second."

I roll my eyes but wrap my arms around him, my chin on his shoulder. "Who do I have to kill to get first place, then?"

He chuckles. "Lacey," he says dreamily. "Older woman. Was widowed twice, the poor thing. But she loved to go out to these classy, pompous art events, and she always needed some arm candy."

"That's where you came in, huh?"

"You're damn right," he says cheekily. "She might be old, but that girl knows how to use her lips."

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, envisioning Adam swapping spit with some woman who just put her dentures in.

Adam just laughs, putting his arm around my waist. "Second place is good, Teddy," he teases.

I shrug. "Considering the amount of people you've kissed?" I tease. "You're right."

He raises his eyebrows, clearly amused. "You calling me a slut?"

"I am," I say with a tender grin, leaning in a little more. "But you're my slut now."

"Mmm," he hums, giving me a little roll of his tongue and causing us both to laugh. "I like the sound of that."

We both sit down, knees touching under the table as we dive into the pizza. Apparently I'm starving because I practically inhale three slices right off the bat before I even consider taking my time, going through an ungodly number of napkins to wipe the grease off my hands. After my third slice, I feel that satisfied weight in my stomach, licking my lips and smiling at Adam.

"Hey, thanks for taking me out tonight," I say to him.

He smiles mid-bite before chewing slowly. "Of course," he says after swallowing. "You needed it."

Damn right, I did. I desperately needed some Adam-time after the emotional strife I put myself through breaking things off with Jackson two days ago. God, what a difficult conversation that was - mostly because I couldn't stop crying. Once Jackson hit me with a terribly confused look after I told him we shouldn't see each other anymore, I broke down. He didn't deserve that. Jackson was nothing but good to me to the very end. Even as I was attempting to break up with him, he was consoling *me*. How fucked up is that? Jackson didn't seem that heartbroken - he was upset, because he liked me a lot, but our time together was at least short enough for his heart not to be ripped to pieces by my inconsiderate fingers. So that's at least some solace. But still, I found it oddly difficult to stand by my decision. After Jackson left my apartment, I spent the rest of the day cuddling Maxi and wondering if I did the right thing, if I made the right choice, if I was being sane in thinking that I deserve a happy life with the fucking straight boy.

I talked it over a lot with Adam beforehand (after a much-needed round of sex). He tried to make it clear that, if Jackson was what I wanted, he would back off. But I could tell he would hate that. He already was upset with himself for waiting too long considering I had found someone else in the meantime. But Jackson was an obstacle. That's how he described him, once: as an obstacle. In a way, it helped hearing him refer to my now ex-boyfriend as such, because it put things into perspective for me. It somewhat confirmed that he really *does* want me.

"How you feeling now?" he asks me.

I shrug. "I still feel bad," I admit, glancing at Adam. I slide my hand over to his, nudging his fingers with my knuckles. "But I'm happy to be here. Honest."

He smiles gently and then leans over to kiss me. "I know it was a lot."

I scoff. "Kinda."

"But I want to prove to you that you made the right choice," he says, squeezing my hand.

Part of me wants to say that he already has, because, with each passing minute, I feel more and more validated by him, sure of him. But I'm excited to see what the future holds for us. I've made the choice. I'm invested in this. I'm invested in us, and I let him know by smiling at him, giving his hand a tender squeeze back in appreciation.

"So," he says, taking another quick sip of his champagne. "Maybe it's kinda early, but... this technically isn't our first date, right?"

I raise my eyebrows, intrigued. "Sure?"

"So... I've got a question for you."

I laugh. "And I've got an answer."

He smiles slightly. "Would you like to come home with me?"

I snort. Come home with him? We just came from his apartment. We just *fucked* at his apartment before coming here. Hell, I still have a load of his cum in me. "That's your question?"

He looks confused by my reaction before he laughs. "No, not like, my apartment," he says. "My home. In Connecticut."

I blink. "Really?"

"Yeah," he says, giving my knee a squeeze. "I want you to meet my family."

I smile softly. I guess it is sort of a big deal. "Your grandparents?"

"And my brother, yes," he says with a nod.

The Sullivans. Even if his grandparents are old-fashioned and have a lot of iffy, antiquated ideologies, he speaks very highly of them. After all, they raised him and his brother without complaint. "I'd love to meet them," I say with a nervous smile. The notion that he wants to bring me deeper into his circle is exciting, but the concept of a family always rattles me. I wish I had a family to introduce him to as well. I guess I technically do - but none of my biological family matters to me. There's only one man I consider family now. "I'd like you to meet Clark, too," I tell him.

"Ah, the man himself," Adam says with a cheeky grin. "I gotta thank him in person."

I laugh. "For what?"

"Taking care of you." I blush slightly before I look away, smiling to myself, finding that to be an incredibly sweet sentiment. "What?" Adam asks.

"Nothing," I say, resting my hand over his under the table. Then I laugh slightly. "You know, I'm just still surprised you want a guy like me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I just bite my lip in response.

"Nuh uh," he says, grinning and leaning in. "No doing that self-deprecating thing."

"It's not like that," I say, and when he gives me a skeptical look, I touch his arm. "I promise."

"What is it then?"

"I'm just..." I look him up and down. "You're just so out of my league."

He lets out a laugh that's a mix between a scoff and an amused chuckle. "Are you kidding?"

"I'm not saying I'm ugly," I tell him before he starts berating me on my low self-esteem. "But I'm not like... well... *hot*."

He rolls his eyes before staring at me. "I'm gonna tell you something, Teddy. You ready?"

I try not to look so amused. "No," I tease.

But he presses on. "Me being attractive is none of my business."

I stare at him for a few moments, attempting to let that sink in. "I don't get it."

"Meaning, *you* shouldn't worry about what you look like. *You* don't have to fuck you. I do." He hits me with a devilish sort of grin. "And I like fucking you, in case you haven't noticed." He reaches over and strokes my chin. "*I* like what I see, Teddy. So trust *me*. K?"

I sigh through my nose. I didn't really expect him to understand how someone would feel inferior next to him, but he sure does do a damn good job of making me feel like I am enough. "Okay."

"Plus," he adds, dazzling me with a toothy grin, "despite you being handsome, I like *you*." He emphasizes that point by poking me in the chest, right above my heart. "A guy like you is exactly the kind of person I want to be with. Funny, intelligent, warm-hearted, damaged goods-"

"Fuck you," I say, laughing because I know that latter one is a joke. He grins as I grab his shirt and tugging him to me. Our lips meet tenderly, and we kiss gently back and forth for a few moments. "I like you, too."

"Obviously," he says, and when I give him a faux-offended look, he bursts out laughing before pushing the pizza box closer to me. "Alright. Enough talking. Eat."

We spend the entire night out on the yacht. Once we finish the pizza, we take the bottle of champagne and set up a little picnic on the deck so that we can lie down and pretend like we can see the stars. Even if we cut all the lights, the atmosphere is still a bit hazy, but we can vaguely see those little lights peppering the night sky. For the most part, Adam is true to his word: we lie down, relax, talk, and cuddle (aside from when I give him head, but only because I was "craving dessert"). As we relax together, we don't even have to speak for me to get a sense of calm. Everything is fine. Everything will be okay.

~ ~ ~

As the tires run over the gravel, I start to feel nervous. What was I thinking, meeting Adam's grandparents? They're probably just like my parents: pleasant until they find out about my sexuality, something they consider a betrayal of what they so deeply believe in. They'll turn on me. I can feel it. It's making my breathing become labored.

But Adam seems as cheery as ever, not yet attuned to my shifting anxiety. "Here we are," he says brightly, slowly winding through the snake-like driveway. Gradually, his childhood home comes into view. It's a quaint little place that can only be described as grandmotherly, from the cutesy structural elements to the diverse and colorful gardens lining the foundation. It's that classic, small, old-American home that automatically brings the smell of apple pie to my senses. I can picture it so clearly, sitting on the open windowsill to cool off, the scent luring boys like myself in.

"Beautiful home," I say, eyeing the gardens in particular.

"Yeah, my grandmother is practically a beautician on all fronts," he says with a little chuckle before parking his car behind a tattered Jeep. Then, he cuts the engine before looking at me. "Okay, so... Quick thing."

I cock my eyebrow but nod.

"Maybe don't mention *how* we know each other," he says.

"Oh." I gulp a bit, but I find that perfectly understandable - and frankly, that relieves me to hear. Of all the things that could ruin their image of me, the fact that I once was his client could be the most damning. I try to come up with a work-around. "What if you just say we met online?"

But he shakes his head. "No, they're old-school. I'll never hear the end of it." He sighs slightly. "Maybe we can come up with something more romantic," he says, "like... we live in the same apartment building... or we met at that place you like. The High Line."

"So you want me to lie already?" I say, slightly amused but getting me increasingly nervous.

He opens his mouth to speak before shutting it and laughing. "I don't know. I guess if we just say 'online', it's not a lie. The escort part is off the table, though."

I reach my hand over and touch his thigh. "Are you sure they'd be okay with you dating a guy?" I ask again. Every time I've brought it up, he always only says one word: "Sure". He never says it with much conviction, either. It's always loosely tossed my way as to temporarily nullify my worries.

"I mean... Okay, probably not," he admits, "but who cares?"

I blush. So there it is, exactly what I fucking feared. "Adam..."

"What?"

"I can't do this."

Adam frowns, leaning into me a bit. "We talked about this, babe. You'll be fine."

"I'm not worried about me," I say, even though that's a lie. I expressed to him my ingrained fear of coming out to anybody's parents, let alone those of people I've dated. It took months of convincing me to meet Miguel's folks, and he'd been completely accepted by his family *before* he even officially came out. "I just can't be the reason your grandparents... disown you or something."

He looks at me like I'm being silly. "That's not going to happen, Teddy."

"It could," I tell him. "It happened to me."