“Yeah, being with a guy.” I clench my fists. I want to touch him again. I want to bend down and trace that fucking tan line with my tongue and find out if it tastes as good as it looks. I bet it does. I bet every part of him is as fucking addictive as his lips and his dick.
He gasps, his eyes wide, as he clutches his chest. “Shit, you’re aguy?”
“Fuck you,” I laugh as I sit down at the other end of the couch, leaving some space between us. Wes sits up, too, the silence stretching between us. I wipe my hands against my thighs, and the tightening sensation in my chest is suddenly back. I have no fucking clue where we go from here.
He inches a little closer to me, still leaving some space between us. “Look at me.” His voice is stern but soft. “Hey, it’s okay.” He reaches for my hand, resting on my thigh, and covers it with his. How the hell can he read me like this? His hand is warm and comforting, and my heartbeat slows down from his touch. “Please look at me, Jared.”
Jared.
I reluctantly look at him, focusing on his golden scruff. I really like it, and I love how it felt against my thighs when he went down on me. He squeezes my hand again, and tears press behind my eyelids at the simple gesture. I feel so fucking raw because of him and how he strips one layer of my guardedness away at the time.
“Here’s the thing,” he says. “I’m not the type to freak out.”
“Guess not.”
“Besides, you know my best friend, Dennis, is gay. I told you about him, right?”
I nod.
“Well, his husband, Mike, is demisexual. He used to date only women before he and Dennis got together. I don’t know, Mike just went with it… Not that he treated it lightly or that it could’ve been just anyone. He really loves Dennis. It doesn’t matter to him that Dennis is a guy. Their relationship has made me realize that sexuality is fluid and not something static. Maybe it depends on the person you’re with, too… like you, Jett. Do I think about other guys? Not really. But I’m not weirded out by this.”
In typical Wes fashion, he shrugs and smirks. “I’m special like that, I guess.”
The way Wes talks about his best friend does something to me. I hear the fondness, the protectiveness. It just adds another layer to the Wes I’m starting to get to know.
“I’m not saying it was all roses and rainbows,” he continues. “They’ve had their fair share of bumps along the way, but at the end of the day, they both did what it took to make it work. Now they’re married. I think that’s pretty fucking cool.”
Bumps on the way.I know how that feels. Wes and I got off to a pretty rough start, too. Mostly because of me.
My gaze drifts to his face, and our eyes meet. There’s nothing but sincerity in him. I lick my lips, regret pulling at me.“I want you to know that I really am sorry I didn’t ask for your consent the first time I…” I dig my fingers into my thigh, Wes’ hand still blanketing mine. As if he knows I need it, he squeezes it again. “That was not okay, and I’m truly sorry for that.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. But don’t think about it anymore. We’re way past that.” He smiles crookedly again, waving between us. “I meanwayyyypast that.”
I chuckle, the tension in my chest easing bit by bit. “Okay.”
I look around my darkened living room. I have no idea what time it is. He probably wants to leave now. I brush my hand along my hair, then stand from the couch. Wes gets up too, and we both pull on our jeans. I miss Wes’ touch instantly, and I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I stuff them into my pockets. He watches me intently.
“Do you, uhm… do you want something to drink?” I ask, nodding toward the kitchen.
“Sure.” He stretches his arms above his head, groaning. His pants are still unbuttoned, revealing a thatch of dark blond hair underneath his stomach. I want to drop to my knees and bury my face in his groin and just breathe him in. It’s not sexual, but a need to be close to him. “Just some water is fine.”
In the kitchen, I throw open the fridge and grab two bottles of water. I hand one to Wes, and he leans back against the kitchen counter, gulping half of it in one go.
“Shit, that hit the spot,” he sighs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The simple gesture alone sends small sparks flying through my body. I loved his mouth on me, and how he just sucked me down with such unexpected hunger. It was the sloppiest fucking blow job I’ve ever had, but that’s what made it so damn hot. The way he just went for it made me feel wanted, desired. My mind blanked out, and I didn’t even have time to overthink it.
Wes tilts his head, scrutinizing me. Something’s brewing in there. I can feel it. “So when did you know? That you’re into dudes?”
I lift the bottle to my lips, then put it on the kitchen island. “Dudes?” I say as I hoist myself up onto the island.
He shakes his head, his soft bangs tumbling into his eyes. He brushes them away, tucking them behind his ears. “Guys, men, whatever. You know what I mean.”
I suck in a deep breath, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t remember exactly.” No, I rememberexactlywhen. “I think I was sixteen, maybe seventeen.” It was a month before my seventeenth birthday. “It wasn’t this instant revelation like in the movies. Just little things, here and there. Small indicators I was into guys instead of girls.” It was just like the movies. I was running on the beach, and I saw two boys, maybe a few years younger than me. They were rolling around in the sand, laughing, completely lost in their own little world of two. I remember stopping in my tracks, watching them shamelessly as they threw wet sand at each other, rubbing it in each other’s hair while laughing with abandon. I was jealous not only of their playfulness but also of their closeness. I imagined it was me, another boy’s hands on my body, his warm breath against my face, the smell of his sun-kissed skin surrounding me. I imagined how it would feel if he pressed his lips against mine, how soft they’d be, and how he’d taste. The boys on the beach didn’t kiss. Eventually, they got up, still laughing as they brushed the sand from their arms and legs. I stared after them long after they’d vanished into the afternoon mist, my life forever changed.
I swallow, pushing back the memory. “I didn’t act on it until college, though.”
“Ah, late bloomer,” Wes sing-songs.
“Something like that.”
