“Look,” he said.“Do you see what’s happening here?”
“No?”
“The second I agreed to have sex with you, you got scared, but you were too embarrassed to tell me.So instead of talking, you wanted to watch a movie.Because if we talked, we might get physical, which would mean you having to reassess your identity, and you clearly aren’t ready.Then you had some beer so you wouldn’t be scared anymore, but now you’re drunk.”
He’d said the everything part out loud.I felt like an idiot.
But.“I’m not drunk.I’ve only had four beers.”
“I’m not doing anything with you unless you’re completely sober.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
He sighed.That was my first clue he was done humoring me.“If the only way you can have sex with me is by drinking, you’re not ready.If you try to do this when you’re not ready, you’ll wake up tomorrow, and you won’t be able to deal with what you did.So you’ll ask me to leave.You’ll use the beer as an excuse for what happened, and you’ll never end up figuring out if you’re bi.And maybe we’ll never see each other again.”
That hit me.Because I knew what not seeing him would do to me—had done to me.The weird thing was, by taking sex off the table, he’d made me want him even more.
“So what’s going to happen?”I said.
“We’ll watch another movie.We’ll get tired.You’ll go to bed, and I’ll sleep on your couch.You’ll wake up tomorrow with a hangover and probably a hard-on, but you won’t feel embarrassed, because we didn’t do anything.You’ll let me stay here, and eventually, you’ll get used to the idea of having sex with me.And then we’ll do it.Sober.”
Hearing him talk about us having sex, so matter-of-factly, was...hot.
“I wish I hadn’t drunk those beers.”
“Well, you did.Might as well watch another movie.”
Since I was in a different mood now, I put inFour Weddings and a Funeral.This time, I sat on the couch closer to him than before.All I could think about, apart from his proximity, was that he’d had a boyfriend for eight years.He was experienced.I’d bet that meant he was really good at it.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I asked him if I could put my arm around him.
“Better not,” he said.“You don’t want to do anything you wouldn’t do if you were sober.Pretend you’re watching a movie with a good buddy.”
I couldn’t sit still, and I couldn’t pay attention to the movie.So I concentrated on my leg, made it stop jiggling and relax, and then it went sideways till my knee rested against his thigh.I froze.
“Okay?”I said quietly.
“Sure.”
“Feels nice.”
“Yeah,” he said.
It felt better than nice.I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt anything this much better than nice.I didn’t want to move, in case I stopped touching him.I felt like I was connected to him, that I could feel his heartbeat, feel him breathing, feel his fingertips on the arm of the couch.I was so focused on him I didn’t notice the movie had ended.I hadn’t realized how late it was.
“I’m going to bed,” I said.“Is it okay if I give you a hug?”
“Would you hug your buddy if you were going to see him the next day?”
If I tried that with Bexley or Ben, they’d ask me what was wrong.“No.”
“Then it’s probably not a good idea.”
“You’re killing me here, Eddie.”
“You’ll thank me for it later.”
“Fuck you.”I wasn’t angry, just frustrated.
