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A Blind CurveRelationships shouldn’t have a deadline, but Jake and Dan have agreed to try out what they have together for 3 months.If things don’t go well, Jake is ready to move on. But Dan has changed too much to let this relationship go without a fight.
Jake’s been broken by straight men before. Now that he’s dating Dan Perry, the “unattainable” man of his dreams, his fear of abandonment creeps into insecurities that make him push Dan away. Jake fights his self-doubt quietly, yet Dan suspects something is wrong. Dan, grappling with his newfound sexuality, must conquer his fear and prejudice before he loses the first man he’s ever loved. The truth will come out one way or another, and if Dan doesn’t fully commit to their relationship, Jake would rather cut their time short than dangle along until the love of his life decides to leave him in the end. |
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Excerpt from A Blind Curve
© S.N. McKibben
THREE MONTHS IS both enough time and not enough time to fall in love. Or maybe it’s not enough time to say the words “I love you.” On one hand, I wanted to shout my feelings from the rooftop of Jake’s rig, Tabasco. But I didn’t dare. On the other hand, things would be so much easier if I was straight. Or he was straight.
My driving partner, my boyfriend, and the man I loved sat in the passenger side of his ’89 Peterbilt. The rig had the look and character of a famous eighty’s cartoon.
“You still doing okay?” Jake looked over at me.
“It’s only been six hours.” I smiled back at him. We were almost to our destination. “I’m fine.”
The click, click, click of dog claws echoed on the metal floor, and a white muzzle popped up in between us.
Mimi was a pure-white Korean Jindo. Seven days was all it took for her to paw her way into my heart. I couldn’t bring myself to trust dogs other than her, though. She was special. Just like her owner.
“Woo-woo-woo,” Mimi sang.
Jake turned to her and ruffled Mimi’s fuzzy head. “We’re almost there, sweetheart. I promise we’ll go for a run soon.”
Then Jake smiled, and it took every bit of training to not stare at him, to not take my eyes off the road.
Jake was a blond blue-eyed Aryan masterpiece. I was just… Dan Perry the average run-of-the-mill sorta Hispanic, sorta Irish, mistaken for White, vaquero.
I could have gone on never knowing about the demisexual part of myself if we had never met. But the trucking industry is not that large, and those that didn’t know my partner knew of him. He didn’t exactly keep it secret about his sexuality.
In fact, before we ever formally met, I had observed him holding on to the back bars of a parked trailer while getting plowed by some bear of a man. As the other guy had rocked back and forth into him, Jake had met my eyes, and I hadn’t been able to look anywhere else. From that day forward, I’d been doomed.
“Don’t worry, Mimi.” I gave her a quick pat. Otherwise, she might just nose my wrist for acknowledgment. I wouldn’t want my cute-as-a-button puppy to think I was ignoring her.
So much had happened in just the past few months that I didn’t recognize the person I’d been. I’d gone from a hater, spitting racial slurs at Jake, to screwing his brains out. From dog wary to loving Jake’s purebred pure-white mutt, Mimi. The past quarter, we’d been driving together as a team across the country, and I’d loved every moment.
Well, except for times like this while driving a twelve-ton semi-tractor during fall weather in rush hour traffic. The wipers streaked water and bugs on the windshield. Fresh rain slicked the I-95 as we approached New York. Every job had its share of stress, I suppose.
The only consolation was the view. Elm trees lined both sides of the four-lane route like a procession ushering drivers into the state. Clouds radiated the sunset in red tones fading to blue hues. Combined with good music filling the cab, it made a man happy to be alive.
Tabasco ran smoothly over the pavement, but the freshly fallen rain made the two-lane highway have as much traction as eel skin. Traffic didn’t do her brakes any favors either. Seesawing the clutch had fatigued my legs, but we were close to the drop-off. I uttered some unbecoming words at a four-wheel trying to change lanes in front of me and shifted down a gear.
“If curse words blushed, they’d be bright red at the filth coming out of your mouth.” Jake sat in the passenger seat fiddling with the only controls he could command─the radio.
Not daring to take my eyes off the road, I asked, “What time is it?”
“Five sixteen.” Jake’s grim voice belayed my next question.
We had fourteen minutes to get to the drop-off before they closed. It might mean overtime for the employees to unload the trailer, but our contract had a firm deadline of 5:30 p.m.
“We’ll get there on time.” No sooner had I jinxed us than a rice burner raced in front of Tabasco like he was Dale Earnhardt, crossing over from the left lane and slamming on his brakes.
“Fuuu…” I dropped gears and tried to brake, but it was in vain. We weren’t going fast but the momentum of a semi was more than speed. Tabasco hopped at my rude treatment, metal on metal screeched, and we came to a jarring stop. One that was not brake assisted.
A puppy yelp from behind me cracked my heart straight down the middle.
“Shit!” I stomped on the emergency brake, put Tabasco in park, unlatched my seat belt, and dropped on a knee to the center aisle.
The cute, fuzzy face of Jake’s pure-white Korean Jindo, Mimi, looked more like an albino Siberian husky complete with crystal-blue eyes. “You okay, little girl?”
Mimi pranced over and licked my face while I smoothed over her fur with my rough hands. I inspected her for any injury. Over three months, she single-pawedly swept away all my tainted perceptions of canines and replaced my dread of dogs with the joys of puppy responsibility. Now she was as much mine as she was his.
While Mimi licked at my face like it was the most fantastic job with a quota, Jake leaned over and smirked.
I lifted my chin, avoiding getting frenched by a pooch. “She’s okay. Must have scared her.”
Jake made his sexy, infuriating, know-it-all bedroom eyes at me and smiled. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Mimi jumped up trying to meet that lick quota of hers. I had to turn my face side to side just to talk. “You didn’t even jump.” I eyed him. “Were you expecting me to crash?”
“No.” He scanned the view out of the windshield.
Jake hardly ever got angry. I had enough aggro for the both of us. Now that I knew Mimi and Jake were all right, my anger for Tabasco rose. If the smuck I ran into had dented Jake’s truck…
“Okay, okay, little one.” I stood. “I’m going to go talk to this idiot.”
My hands were shaking, and my gut twisted in all kinds of ways. Clear signs the adrenaline dump rode me hard. Tabasco was the one reason I’d ever seen Jake mad. If he was pissed, then I had double reason to rip into this Dale wannabe.
I opened the side door to exit the spacious tractor’s extension and met Jake climbing out of the passenger-side seat. His combat boots hit the ground at the same time my tennis shoes reached the pavement.
“Dan…” Jake blocked my way and set his hands on my shoulders. “Let me handle this.”
“No.” Anger floated above my anxiety. No way. “That son of a bitch pulled into my lane and stopped dead in front of me.” The public didn’t think about the natural laws of greater mass. More weight meant more energy it took to stop. The public didn’t think about things like self-preservation. I could have crushed that car without much effort.
“We need to be professional about this. I can see you winding up.” Jake lifted his golden eyebrows. “Please let me handle this.” He gave me that sultry look that disarmed my heart. One that would have me lip-locked and pressed up against him. Damn gorgeous face got me every time.
When it came to PDA, we balanced it like a horsehair tightrope. I’d asked him not to be sweet in public. Touches here and there were okay, but holding hands still made me look around to see who was watching. My covert nature made Jake red-faced and ass-hurt. I’d been battling a lifetime of ingrained prejudices for six months. I wish I could say I’d dropped all the bad habits. But I was just getting comfortable with dating a guy. When we were alone it was great. But any reference in public to our love being outside the norm shut me down. Including being affectionate outside. Which was the only thing stopping me from kissing him.
“Hey, which one of you assholes plowed into my bumper?” The rice-burning driver looked like a beefcake that lived at the gym.
Jake swung a one-eighty and said, “Sir…”
But I was having none of that. Dale wannabe didn’t deserve decency. I plowed forward and jabbed a finger in Gym Rat’s face. “You were the jerk who swooped into my lane and put on the brakes. Nice job, genius.”
THREE MONTHS IS both enough time and not enough time to fall in love. Or maybe it’s not enough time to say the words “I love you.” On one hand, I wanted to shout my feelings from the rooftop of Jake’s rig, Tabasco. But I didn’t dare. On the other hand, things would be so much easier if I was straight. Or he was straight.
My driving partner, my boyfriend, and the man I loved sat in the passenger side of his ’89 Peterbilt. The rig had the look and character of a famous eighty’s cartoon.
“You still doing okay?” Jake looked over at me.
“It’s only been six hours.” I smiled back at him. We were almost to our destination. “I’m fine.”
The click, click, click of dog claws echoed on the metal floor, and a white muzzle popped up in between us.
Mimi was a pure-white Korean Jindo. Seven days was all it took for her to paw her way into my heart. I couldn’t bring myself to trust dogs other than her, though. She was special. Just like her owner.
“Woo-woo-woo,” Mimi sang.
Jake turned to her and ruffled Mimi’s fuzzy head. “We’re almost there, sweetheart. I promise we’ll go for a run soon.”
Then Jake smiled, and it took every bit of training to not stare at him, to not take my eyes off the road.
Jake was a blond blue-eyed Aryan masterpiece. I was just… Dan Perry the average run-of-the-mill sorta Hispanic, sorta Irish, mistaken for White, vaquero.
I could have gone on never knowing about the demisexual part of myself if we had never met. But the trucking industry is not that large, and those that didn’t know my partner knew of him. He didn’t exactly keep it secret about his sexuality.
In fact, before we ever formally met, I had observed him holding on to the back bars of a parked trailer while getting plowed by some bear of a man. As the other guy had rocked back and forth into him, Jake had met my eyes, and I hadn’t been able to look anywhere else. From that day forward, I’d been doomed.
“Don’t worry, Mimi.” I gave her a quick pat. Otherwise, she might just nose my wrist for acknowledgment. I wouldn’t want my cute-as-a-button puppy to think I was ignoring her.
So much had happened in just the past few months that I didn’t recognize the person I’d been. I’d gone from a hater, spitting racial slurs at Jake, to screwing his brains out. From dog wary to loving Jake’s purebred pure-white mutt, Mimi. The past quarter, we’d been driving together as a team across the country, and I’d loved every moment.
Well, except for times like this while driving a twelve-ton semi-tractor during fall weather in rush hour traffic. The wipers streaked water and bugs on the windshield. Fresh rain slicked the I-95 as we approached New York. Every job had its share of stress, I suppose.
The only consolation was the view. Elm trees lined both sides of the four-lane route like a procession ushering drivers into the state. Clouds radiated the sunset in red tones fading to blue hues. Combined with good music filling the cab, it made a man happy to be alive.
Tabasco ran smoothly over the pavement, but the freshly fallen rain made the two-lane highway have as much traction as eel skin. Traffic didn’t do her brakes any favors either. Seesawing the clutch had fatigued my legs, but we were close to the drop-off. I uttered some unbecoming words at a four-wheel trying to change lanes in front of me and shifted down a gear.
“If curse words blushed, they’d be bright red at the filth coming out of your mouth.” Jake sat in the passenger seat fiddling with the only controls he could command─the radio.
Not daring to take my eyes off the road, I asked, “What time is it?”
“Five sixteen.” Jake’s grim voice belayed my next question.
We had fourteen minutes to get to the drop-off before they closed. It might mean overtime for the employees to unload the trailer, but our contract had a firm deadline of 5:30 p.m.
“We’ll get there on time.” No sooner had I jinxed us than a rice burner raced in front of Tabasco like he was Dale Earnhardt, crossing over from the left lane and slamming on his brakes.
“Fuuu…” I dropped gears and tried to brake, but it was in vain. We weren’t going fast but the momentum of a semi was more than speed. Tabasco hopped at my rude treatment, metal on metal screeched, and we came to a jarring stop. One that was not brake assisted.
A puppy yelp from behind me cracked my heart straight down the middle.
“Shit!” I stomped on the emergency brake, put Tabasco in park, unlatched my seat belt, and dropped on a knee to the center aisle.
The cute, fuzzy face of Jake’s pure-white Korean Jindo, Mimi, looked more like an albino Siberian husky complete with crystal-blue eyes. “You okay, little girl?”
Mimi pranced over and licked my face while I smoothed over her fur with my rough hands. I inspected her for any injury. Over three months, she single-pawedly swept away all my tainted perceptions of canines and replaced my dread of dogs with the joys of puppy responsibility. Now she was as much mine as she was his.
While Mimi licked at my face like it was the most fantastic job with a quota, Jake leaned over and smirked.
I lifted my chin, avoiding getting frenched by a pooch. “She’s okay. Must have scared her.”
Jake made his sexy, infuriating, know-it-all bedroom eyes at me and smiled. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Mimi jumped up trying to meet that lick quota of hers. I had to turn my face side to side just to talk. “You didn’t even jump.” I eyed him. “Were you expecting me to crash?”
“No.” He scanned the view out of the windshield.
Jake hardly ever got angry. I had enough aggro for the both of us. Now that I knew Mimi and Jake were all right, my anger for Tabasco rose. If the smuck I ran into had dented Jake’s truck…
“Okay, okay, little one.” I stood. “I’m going to go talk to this idiot.”
My hands were shaking, and my gut twisted in all kinds of ways. Clear signs the adrenaline dump rode me hard. Tabasco was the one reason I’d ever seen Jake mad. If he was pissed, then I had double reason to rip into this Dale wannabe.
I opened the side door to exit the spacious tractor’s extension and met Jake climbing out of the passenger-side seat. His combat boots hit the ground at the same time my tennis shoes reached the pavement.
“Dan…” Jake blocked my way and set his hands on my shoulders. “Let me handle this.”
“No.” Anger floated above my anxiety. No way. “That son of a bitch pulled into my lane and stopped dead in front of me.” The public didn’t think about the natural laws of greater mass. More weight meant more energy it took to stop. The public didn’t think about things like self-preservation. I could have crushed that car without much effort.
“We need to be professional about this. I can see you winding up.” Jake lifted his golden eyebrows. “Please let me handle this.” He gave me that sultry look that disarmed my heart. One that would have me lip-locked and pressed up against him. Damn gorgeous face got me every time.
When it came to PDA, we balanced it like a horsehair tightrope. I’d asked him not to be sweet in public. Touches here and there were okay, but holding hands still made me look around to see who was watching. My covert nature made Jake red-faced and ass-hurt. I’d been battling a lifetime of ingrained prejudices for six months. I wish I could say I’d dropped all the bad habits. But I was just getting comfortable with dating a guy. When we were alone it was great. But any reference in public to our love being outside the norm shut me down. Including being affectionate outside. Which was the only thing stopping me from kissing him.
“Hey, which one of you assholes plowed into my bumper?” The rice-burning driver looked like a beefcake that lived at the gym.
Jake swung a one-eighty and said, “Sir…”
But I was having none of that. Dale wannabe didn’t deserve decency. I plowed forward and jabbed a finger in Gym Rat’s face. “You were the jerk who swooped into my lane and put on the brakes. Nice job, genius.”
Thank you for reading a sample of A Blind Curve.
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Commissioned Character Art
Illustrations by Cynthia Hlady
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