Hey guys!! Hope everyone is enjoying Across the Way so far! I'll try to update you with new chapters as much as possible. Feel free to contact me at drivstories@gmail.com with any comments, questions or suggestions! I'm always open to suggestion on where to take the story, so don't be shy! I put a lot of thought into this chapter and hope y'all enjoy it. Happy reading!


Across the Way

Chapter 3


                I lazily opened my eyes and allowed them to adjust to the morning light that filled the small room. I rubbed my eyes and rolled over on my back, finding myself alone on the couch, covered up in a blanket, as if someone had tucked me in. I could smell bacon in the air and the clitter clatter of cooking utensils.  I arose from the sofa and looked over at the kitchen, my hair was most likely a mess but whatever. Brock had his shirtless muscled back towards me, I liked my lips right as he turned around and smiled at me.

"Good morning. How do you like your eggs?" Brock asked.

"Scrambled please. Thanks for cooking something up. My stomach needs something."

"Nuthin' like bacon n' eggs to cure a hangover." Brock said as he placed some bacon onto a paper plate.

"You need any help ?"

"Nah, I'm all good buddy."

I was smiling on the outside but frowning on the inside when he called me "buddy".  Well if we're buddies , that's fine with me. I could use a new friend since most of my best friends moved away for college or relocated. I wondered what he must have thought when he woke up. I looked down on the floor to see his shirt laying there next to my phone and the remote.

I went to check my phone but it was dead. I blew it off, like anyone was going to get ahold of me, nor was there anywhere else I wanted to be. Perhaps I was living in my own little fantasy.  Yeah I wanted more than to drunkenly cuddle with him, but if we were to be buddies, then I had to draw some boundaries and do my best not to cross them.

Brock had finished cooking and brought over my plate of food along with some freshly brewed coffee.  I noticed he didn't have a plate in his hand, just a glass of milk.

"Brock, aren't you going to eat too?"

"Well I planned on it, but I only had enough for one. Since ya are my guest, it was only right to fix you a plate."

"Are you sure ? I don't want to impose..."

"I'm sure Jackson. Eat up. Let me know how it taste."

With that I grabbed myself a strip of bacon and munched on it. It was fucking delicious. He smiled the biggest smile as he watched me eat. This might sound cheesy, but the light coming from outside hit Brock in all the right places and he looked beautiful. I continued to eat my food as I watched Brock play some Battlefield. I would look over every now and then, his arms flexed with each motion he made. I didn't realize I had dropped my jaw in amazement cause Brock looked at me very seriously.

"It's impolite to stare. Don't chew with your mouth open."  He said in an extremely serious tone.

"I-I um...I'm sorry."

Brock then busted out laughing, hitting his knee with his hand.

"Oh my god. I'm kiddin' Jackson.  Holy shit you shoulda seen the look on your face!!"

"Dick." I said with a smile.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it." He said as he patted my back before he got up to grab himself another glass of milk.

Brock came back to his video game as I finished eating up the food he cooked for me. After talking for a bit, we figured out it was both of our days off, and since we were both free, we decided to hang out all day long. Brock went and took a quick shower as I changed back into my clothes. A few minutes later he came out of the bathroom, still wet with a small towel wrapped around my waist. Damn this man was gorgeous. I slipped on my shirt, tied the laces on my shoes and tried to fix my hair as much as possible. It didn't really matter since were heading back to my house. When he was done, he came back into the living room wearing a white plain t-shirt, faded navy Wranglers, brown cowboy boots and he topped it off with a camouflage jacket. Damn I was dealing with an all American country boy. Again, I pushed those thoughts out of my head because Brock was now considered a friend and nothing more.

"Bad Jackson, very bad. Friends don't eye fuck their friends." I thought to myself.

Once he was ready we jumped into my BMW and drove off, heading to my house. He was mostly quiet on the drive up the hill, commenting on the snow and the scenery. After driving for about 20 minutes we pulled off the main road and up to a gate which opened up as my car approached. My driveway continued up the large hill and was lined with trees, not allowing those on the other side to see what was over the wall. As always, the gardeners and maintenance workers were busy on the property, and Brock noticed this as we drove by. I honked my horn and gave them a wave and smile as we reached the top of the hill where my house sat.

"Holy...fucking..shit.." Brock said  with his eyes wide open.

As I mentioned before, my parents were fairly well off. Naturally our home would reflect the success my parents had both achieved through their hard work. Our home was built in 2005 and sat on 15 acres atop a hill that overlooked the countryside, city and outlaying suburbs. My parents had designed a neo classical colonial home that had modern touches inside and out. It was 3 stories, 6 bedrooms, 8 bathrooms, a library, 2 studies, a solarium, a home theatre room, game room, a chef's kitchen, 5 fire places, a small gym and a 10 car garage. In all, the house totaled 10,500 sq ft. The outside consisted of a small pool house that had a bedroom and bathroom, an outdoor kitchen, fire pit, tennis court, and we had an Olympic size pool complete with a spa. From the top of the hill, every bedroom had a panoramic view of the valley and the sunsets were always beautiful.  Back then when my brothers still lived at home, it didn't seem so big, but nowadays it was sorta empty. Despite its large size, it was rather homey and had character. On my nights alone, I'd always sit on the hammock that was tucked away in the corner. I'd grab a blanket, tea and sit out there for some time, just looking up at the night sky. Out here there was no light pollution and the stars shone as bright as they could.

I pulled up to my garage bay and waited for it to open. I looked over and Brock was still in awe, speechless really. As I pulled into the garage he got really excited looking at all the other cars we had.

"No fucking way this is your house. Who's Bentley is that!?" He asked pointing at the silver GTC.

"It's my mothers. And yes this is my home. My parents designed it inside and out.

"Damn dude. Good for them. Looks like they're hard workers."

"Yeah they are, they really are."

"Where they at?" Brock asked as he got out of my car.

"They're in Italy." I said as I noticed Brock walk from car to car. He passed the Bentleys, Benzs, Porsche, Aston, BMW, Range Rover, the Rolls and stopped in front of the Lambo. He looked at it, then back to me, back at it the back to me once more.

"You fucker. You fucking fuck."

"If you want, you could drive one later when we grab some food..."



"Jackson, you shouldn't play such games with me. You're breakin' my heart!!"

We opened up the doors and hoods to most of the cars, Brock bouncing from driver seat to driver seat. He was like a boy in a toy store. His face lit up like a million watt light bulb. It was really cute. I could see why he was so excited. Not to sound like a prick, but this was all normal to me, what I had. Sure they were nice things, but they were things nonetheless. My mother always told me to not place such high value on material items because they can slip through your fingers like that. She taught me to cherish what I have and that over everything else, family was the most important thing. That and love of course. We messed around in the garage for a bit longer before I gave Brock the grand tour of my house.

On my way to my room we passed several older photos of my brothers and I throughout the years. There were pictures from when I was a baby to now, ranging from different vacations, holidays, birthdays, prom and so on.

"Well you were one cute kid. Really cute." Brock said with that damn Colgate smile.

"Thanks..." I said as I opened the door to my bedroom. I had a really nice room, it was painted navy blue, had a queen sized modern four post bed, a nice flat screen on the wall, a desk my father's friend built for me out of an old airplane wing. The walls were adorned with pictures of family and friends and there was painting hanging above my nightstand by my favorite artist. I had a nice walk in closet with wall to wall racks and shelves of clothes, shoes, baseball caps and accessories.

"You can chill here. I'm going to hop in the shower. Be right back."

I walked into my bathroom, brushed my teeth quickly as I could and turned the water on. I stripped out of my clothes, tossing them in the hamper and stepped into my shower. It was rather large, big enough for 2 maybe 3 people. There was not only a rainforest style showerhead, but shower nozzles that hit you on all side of your body. It was rather relaxing. I ran my head under the water, grabbed some body wash and soaked myself up. I decided to take my time since it was still early and we had all day. I lathered up my chest, soaping them really good before trailing my hand down my hardened stomach. I noticed that I had a hard on and tried to ignore it. There was no way I was going to jack it right now, so I gave it a few quick tugs and then continued on washing myself.

After a few minutes I stepped out and toweled myself off. I opened the door to my bedroom and found Brock spread out on my bed, he was looking through a photo album I kept on my desk.  He had kicked off his boots and placed his jacket on the floor. His arms were bulging through his shirt and again I pushed "those" thoughts out of my head.

"Oh sorry. Hope ya don't mind me lookin' through this. I shoulda asked." Brock said with these puppy eyes.

"Don't worry about it, it's fine." I said as I went into my closet. I slipped on some black boxer briefs, A&F jeans and a grey sleeve henley. I walked past Brock and back into my bathroom to apply a bit of hair gel and some cologne. When I came back out, he had the album open up to a page and he looked up at me for a moment. I looked down at the page and saw it was a picture booth photo of my ex and I. We made some goofy face I the first few frames, but in the last we were kissing. At first Brock didn't say a thing and I didn't know what to say to him. I couldn't gauge his reaction.

"So, this is the fucker who broke your heart huh? I knew when you sang that song there was someone behind it."

"Ummm yeah. He did. Uh, sorry Brock."

"Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for not letting you know I was gay."

"Jackon, you ain't got nuthin' to be sorry about. I could give two shits. Beside I'm sure you're better off without the prick. His loss." He said warmly.   

"Thank you Brock. Really. It means a lot."

"I mean it too. You're a good guy. Quite the catch. Whatever he did to lose you, he's a dumbfuck who didn't know what he had. Just sayin'." Brock said as he went back to looking through the album.

I sat at my desk for a bit while Brock played video games on my TV. I had a few e-mails to send out but to be honest I couldn't get what he said out my mind. He asked me a few questions about my relationship, what had happened and I told him everything. Maybe more than what he wanted to hear but he sat there and listened to me. I really never talked about what had happened to anybody. I was so hurt I shut everyone out, but not Brock. He was interested in every detail and was genuinely sorry for what happened, mad even.

"...and so that's that. I loved the guy. Loved. But after what he did,  I couldn't allow him to be a part of my life."

"Like I've said many times, his loss. Anywho all this talk is making me depressed. Can we grab some grub?"

"Sure." I simply said before slipping into boat shoes and throwing on a hoodie. I looked over at Brock who was putting on his boots.

"You know, it's impolite to stare. But I really don't mind." Brock said the last part softly but loud enough for me to hear.

We walked into the garage and I opened the lockbox on the wall by punching in the code my dad had selected. I browsed over the keys for a moment, now I could freely drive any of the cars. My oldest brother who was a Sheriff's Deputy taught me how to drive like the cops do, took me on an EVAC course too, so I knew how to drive a car. After mulling it over, I picked the keys to the matte silver Aston Martin Vanquish. When the engines roared to life it sent a chill up Brock's spine who just smiled at me. We backed out of the garage and drove down the driveway but as soon as we hit the main road, we sped off. We barreled down the straightaways, and I might have taken the turns a bit too fast but I could tell Brock was having a shit load of fun. I decided to take one of the back roads to a nearby town where I frequented their In-N-Out.

When Brock and I pulled up in the British supercar all eyes were on us. We nabbed a parking front near the front and walked in, naturally there was a line. There was always a line. When we finally reached the front Brock ordered a double double with fries, and I ordered 2 plain cheeseburgers. We both ended up ordering strawberry milkshakes as well. Brock pulled out his wallet thinking he was going to pay but I beat him to it when I handed the cashier my card.

"Hey now..." He said sternly.

"Nope. It's my turn to return the hospitality."

"Well you're sure doin' on helluva job."

While the cashier was running my card I noticed how close Brock was behind me, I could feel his breath on my neck and of course could smell Old Spice. It was almost intoxicating; I couldn't get enough of it. The cashier handed me out milkshakes and order number and we found a seat by a window in no time.  When we sat down, Brock sipped on his milkshake, looking up at me every now and then, smiling around his straw.

"The other day you told me I reminded you of someone."

"Huh?" Brock replied with this stumped look on his face.

"At the store. You told me I reminded you of someone. Couldn't tell if it was good or not."

"Well..."Brock started before taking a deep breath. "It's good."

"That's it ? That's all you're going to tell me?"

"Yup." Brock said before he got up to grab out food.

He came back and while we ate our food he told me about his family. His father was a Drill Sargent in the Army, his mother owned a hair salon that was quite popular with all the woman in the county and the county next over. He talked about football, his jersey number 76 all throughout high school, same as his fathers. We then got on the subject of politics and instead of arguing, found ourselves pretty much on the same page. We were both very patriotic, loved our country and we were both pro-gun, pro-choice and shared many of the same ideologies. Somehow we got on the subject of his best friend. They were friends since 5th grade and did everything together. Sadly his friend was the victim of a drunk driving accident, Of course the drunken bastard lived and the young bright life that could have been was destroyed. There was an unspeakable sadness behind Brock's eyes and I was so surprised he opened up to me like this. I placed my hand on his arm, which he grasped in return and nodded a thank you. We finished up our meal and the way to the car I looked at Brock and tossed him the keys. He fumbled with them for a bit and looked at me with such excitement in his eyes.

"You sure about this?"

"Yeah. Beside, that's why we have insurance."

Brock hopped into Aston, adjusted the seat and mirrors before starting the engine. Once again he got that chill up his spine like he did before. He took his time backing the car out, he was a bit nervous at first but when he drove out of the parking lot he loosened up a bit. He told me he didn't have much experience with a manual shifter but I assured him it was easy and that I would help it out. He wasn't a bad driver by any means but was afraid to go over 50 mph. I reached over and pushed his foot down a bit, accelerating the car easily to 95 mph. He had his hand on the shifter but didn't shit in time, so I placed my hand over his and helped him with each shift as we made our way back to my house. His hands were soft, but coarse at the same time, I loved the feel of them. Eventually it felt like he got the hang of it, but I left my hand there for a moment longer before placing it in my lap.

We made it back to my house in one piece and he jumped out of the car hooting and hollering like he just won the lottery.

"THAT WAS SO FUCKING AWESOME. THANK YOU!!" He said running up to me and hugging me. I didn't hug him back but merely patted him on the back. We got into the house and like the night before had a few drinks, played some video games and Brock suggested we go have ourselves a fire outside. I led him back into the kitchen to grab a lighter, kindling, a few snacks and a case of beer. He sat himself on the counter, kicking his feet back and forth like a child. He looked over in the corner and pointed.

"Who's guitar is that?"

"Oh that? My brothers. He's letting me borrow it until I get my own."

"You play guitar?"

"Yes indeed. Started teaching myself about a year ago."

"Jackson, you're a man of many talents. Bring it with us. You should play for me."

Once we got outside, we built the fire in no time and we're sitting right across from each other. The weather had let up, but it was still cold out, however the fire kept us warm and the beer numbed my senses. We talked a bit more about our lives. Our hopes and dreams for the future. He was set on becoming a Sherriff and when he asked me what I wanted to be, I really didn't have an answer.

"What do you mean you don't know?" He asked.

"I just don't know. I wanted to be an architect like my father, but I woke up one day and realized it wasn't my dream anymore."

"Then what is?"

"Don't know."

"What about singing ? You could do that."

"It's not realistic. Waste of time. It's so hard to get into, and there's a ton of people better than me. It's pointless."

"Jackson, what's fucking pointless is you wasting that god given talent you got there. Yeah it's a tough industry, but you got something special in you. When you sang for me that one time, it wasn't just for show. It was, it was nice. Really nice. There was depth to it, emotion. Your young and to have that sorta experience in your voice, it blows my mind. So don't you dare sell yourself short and play yourself and your dreams down. You gotta take a shot at it. You don't want to go on livin' life thinking what could have been like me..."

I was once again speechless. I was touched by Brock's care and sincerity that it got me all misty eyed.

"Now, how about you play the guitar and sing me a song..." Brock said as he took a sip of his beer. He looked right into my eyes while I grabbed the guitar and adjusted the chords. I really loved country music and it's what I did best. I don't care what people say, but country music, to me, is the best there is. There's a song for each and every situation and emotion I have gone through and felt. After thinking about, I put myself out there by singing a certain song. I needed to be sure of whatever "this" was. I took a deep breath as I plucked the guitar strings and then looked up at Brock.

"I got a little drunk last night, there's something 'bout a midnight rain. Staring at the ceiling fan, I couldn't get you off my brain. I guess I wasn't thinking straight. I couldn't tell wrong from right. I went ahead and called you up, I got a little drunk last night. I brought it all up, got it all out. What is it worth, to both of us now. It's off my chest, but never off my mind. Two drinks in, keep that hurt, you feel bad, and I feel worse, I swear it's the last the last time every time. Don't know why. Might've been a song on the radio. Might've been nothing, baby I don't know. Might've been a little too tired to fight. Might've been I got a little drunk last night. I got a little too far gone. I was talking way too loud. I don't remember what I said. I just remember breaking down. I brought it all up, got it all out. What is it worth, to both of us now. It's off my chest, but never off my mind. Two drinks in, keep that hurt, you feel bad, and I feel worse, I swear it's the last the last time every time. Don't know why. Might've been a song on the radio. Might've been nothing, baby I don't know. Might've been a little too tired to fight. Might've been I got a little drunk la-"

I wasn't able to finish my song because before I realized what was happening, I felt something warm and soft against my lips. Brock's lips. His rugged yet soft hands cupped my face then his fingers ran wildly through my hair as he softly kissed me. My eyes were wide open but soon I closed them as I found myself pulling him closer into me. He was warm, oh so warm as he pulled me tighter, pushing his mouth into mine.  I parted my lips, allowing him entry into my mouth. He kissed me with such force and passion that it hurt at first, but it was the best damn kiss I ever had. It was like that spark people talked about but times a million. I ran my fingers through his soft buzzed hair, pulling his face into mine even more. We stayed like this for a few minutes, never separating our lips from one another. I felt him smile through our kiss and we slowly stopped kissing. Brock didn't say a word after our lips parted but he looked at me with that damn smile of his. I looked up into the night sky at the stars and smiled as well. He followed suit and looked up too.

"The stars sure are nice out here..." He said with that southern drawl of his.

"They sure are, they sure are." I replied as I laid my arms around his neck with his arms behind my waist.

We looked at each once more, not saying a thing, but just smiling.


All right everybody!! Looks they finally figured out what they are. What should happen next? Shoot me a message!! Hoped you enjoyed this chapter of Across the Way.