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“Ugh, fine. I’ll pretend I believe you. Where was I?” Remy paused to collect himself, providing a symphony of cover shuffling and mattress squeaking as background noise. “Oh right! So you word-vomited that you want to date the dude who kinda sorta hates you, and now you want to get him a gig at Spark to perform in front of hundreds of people in order to get him to fall in love with you? Am I missing anything? Please, tell me you didn’t try and make a move on the poor boy.”
“Hey, now I am offended! You know me better than that! I’d never try anything like that if he didn’t make it explicitly clear he wanted it.”
I withheld the fact we both got hard. Colton’s reaction to me was a private matter, and I was already pushing the boundaries by sharing his living situation. Intimate moments belonged exclusively between us.
“I also made it clear that I want a chance with him, but if he’s not into the idea and turns me down, it will have no impact whatsoever on his living situation. I may be clueless, but I’m not an asshole,” I admonished him.
“Sorry, that was uncalled for. I know you’re a good guy, it’s just a lot to take in.” Remy conceded, and in that moment, I realized it must also really be a lot for Colton to take in too. It offered a whole new understanding of why he needed that morning walk.
“Okay, well, what’s your verdict?” I asked hesitantly.
“Are you absolutely insane? Do you want him to take out a restraining order?” he exclaimed, clearly exasperated.
“Well, what’s your brilliant suggestion then?” I huffed, fully aware that I sounded like a petulant teenager. Remy was accustomed to my melodramatic tendencies by now.
“Believe it or not, I actually think you’ve got the right idea. You’re just missing a whole heap of steps. That sounds like a nice gesture when you’re actually dating and know that he wouldn’t totally hate a surprise like that. But first, you need to get him to like you back. So considering you guys have literally never had a proper conversation, maybe try that first? Maybe do some nice, small things that make his life easier.”
I glanced down at the tray, which was currently overflowing with breakfast goodies.
“And by small, I mean small. Get him his favorite coffee. Listen to what he says and show him you were listening by remembering little tidbits he gives you. Go slowly. Colton seems like a prickly kind of guy that will probably cut your balls off if you wrong him, so try to temper your impulses to go over the top.”
“Okay, I think I can do that.”
“Oh, and if you have those impulses? Text me first before you do it. I don’t want to have to visit you in jail or the hospital because you pissed him off. And good luck. You’re gonna need it.”
I hung up the phone, considering Remy’s advice. Small. I had to keep the gestures small. I took the flower off the tray and tossed it in the garbage. Now, I held a tray with just Colton’s preferred coffee, eggs the way he liked them, pancakes, fruit and juice. I smiled to myself.
I was nailing this small gestures shit.
7. “Alone Together”
Colton
You can do this.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to reassure myself.
It’s just sex. What’s the big deal? It’s not like you haven’t watched it in the flesh dozens of times. Surely sleeping with Gray wouldn’t be nearly as unpleasant as the junkies bumping uglies high off their faces in my mom’s lounge room made it sound.
Yeah, was it any wonder I was completely and utterly fucked in the head when I used to be treated to live porn shows before I turned seven?
It won’t be like that.
I tried to psyche myself up for it, but as my steps carried me closer and closer back to Grayson’s house, it became nearly impossible to ignore the nausea trying to fight its way up my esophagus.
You liked having his body pressed up against yours.
And that was the kicker right there. I had liked the feeling of Grayson rubbing those tightly muscled abs against me, so much that I’d gotten hard. Something that had literally never happened unless I was alone in my bedroom, even when I was thirteen and all the other boys around were complaining that a strong breeze could get them going.
In that moment, I might have even let Grayson fuck me. I certainly hadn’t been thinking clearly, my thoughts clouded by what could only be described as lust. Hell, maybe I should have let him fuck me so that my brain wouldn’t have had a chance to remind me how much I really wasn’t ready to take that step.
And there it was—call it naive or plain fucking stupid—but I harbored this messed up desire. Somewhere in the chaos of my tangled thoughts, there existed a hope that if I ever decided to give my body to another, it would transpire with someone who loved me. Loved me and wished to cradle me in their arms afterward, reluctant to ever let go.
Okay, so now you knew my secret. Buried beneath the layers of hostility I presented to the world, I wanted to be cherished like a fucking Disney Princess. How pathetic?
I’d also acknowledged that such a story wouldn’t be my destiny. I’m not that lucky. In the real world, sex is a transaction. Plain and simple.
Grayson had a spare room. Stranded without a dollar to my name, I was at a crossroads where necessity met desire. Grayson’s less than subtle admiration was palpable, the unspoken understanding weaving between us. Connecting the dots wasn’t rocket science.
