“I…guess so?” It sounds more like a question than an answer, and I raise a brow. He’s supposed to be the experienced one between us, so I was hoping for a little more guidance. Then again, he’s probably trying not to pressure me—which I appreciate, but someone has to get a move on before the figurative clock strikes midnight and the spell of an empty house breaks around us.
“I’m going to kiss you then. If that’s okay with you?”
Linden blinks, like he didn’t expect that, and I’m already doubting myself here. Is kissing not okay? I always lead into a make-out session with kissing! Are there things we ought to leave out? We never discussed that, and only now am I realizing we probably should have set some rules. But Linden reaches for my hand before I can open my mouth, squeezing my fingers.
“Totally okay,” he breathes, voice thin. His hand trembles slightly in mine, and I squeeze back.
“Lind…are you nervous?” I ask, my head tilted in curiosity as I take a step closer, then another. He needs to lean his head back to look at me. I’m really close now—close enough to spot a few freckles on the tip of his nose. They’re so light, I’ve never noticed them before. I wonder if they’ve always been there, or if they just come out in summer, then vanish when August turns into September.
“A bit.”
The answer is a surprise and not at the same time. For one, it’s exactly what I would’ve expected from the Linden I’ve known all year. But it’s also a complete contrast to his confident proposal in the car a few days ago.
“We can stop,” I assure him, which is ridiculous, considering this wasn’t my idea.
Linden doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls his hand back and grabs the collar of my shirt to drag me down. I gasp, but follow his lead and bend forward. Our foreheads bump, and I let out a chuckle, which gets silenced by his lips.
I tilt my head a little, fitting our mouths together. My hands hover uselessly in the air until I decide to place them on his hips and pull him close. He’s let go of my collar, his arms snaking around my neck instead. I hum in approval.
I’ve never been more conscious of a kiss. Somewhere between middle school and college, kissing lost its novelty and becamemore of a means to an end than an end in itself. The first rung on a long ladder to reach the proverbial fruit. Every time I pick up a girl, with or without Seb, I go through the motions on autopilot, nothing standing out unless there’s an especially sticky lip gloss or bad breath involved. I don’t know if it’s because this is my first time kissing another guy, but everything feels heightened when Linden parts his lips under my tongue and lets me in.
All of this is underwhelming and earth-shattering for the same reason: it’s not that different from kissing a woman. Linden tastes like cherry gum, and his lips are warm but slightly chapped. Tension slowly bleeds from my shoulders as I lean into him, and only now do I realize how I braced for…for what, even? To not enjoy myself? To just get this over with?
I let my left hand slip from Linden’s hip to the small of his back, bringing him closer. A soft gasp escapes him as his flat chest collides with mine, our hips meeting halfway. I don’t stop there, letting my hand travel up over his shirt, then to the back of his neck, my fingers delving into his hair. It’s shorter than what I’m used to. Softer, too. No product in it, just hair running through my fingers. I tug on it gently, grinning against his lips when a moan bubbles out of him.
Maybe I worried too much about all of this, I think, just as Linden’s arms loosen at my neck, his hands falling to my hips. He’s walking me backward to his bed, and I follow his lead. His fingers slip beneath my shirt, hooking in the elastic waistband of my sweatpants. I can feel them tremble, which gives me pause.
“Everything okay?” I ask, my throat scratchy from the kiss. We’ve stopped in front of his bed, his forehead leaning against my left shoulder.
“Yeah, sure.” His voice gets muffled by my shirt, but I can still make out the tremor in it. Something doesn’t feel right here. Not when he tries to shove me onto the bed and nudge my legs apart.
I follow his silent lead and let myself sink onto his mattress, but keep my eyes trained on his face. He’s avoiding my gaze as he sinks onto his knees between my thighs.
My stomach cramps.
Not because I don’t enjoy the prospect of where this is going—hell, I’m a simple man; I love a good blowjob just like any other guy. But something’s wrong here. It’s been wrong from the start; I just forgot about it over the kiss. Every one of Linden’s motions feels stilted and forced. Like he’s following a script, checking bullet points off an invisible list.
He clears his throat, then squeezes my knee. “I’m going to make you feel good now,” he promises, and I cringe at how misplaced that sounds, how empty his voice is.
“Linden,” I say, but he doesn’t react, his fingers drawing an invisible pattern on my sweatpants before slowly gliding up my thigh.
“Linden,” I call out again, and then, because he doesn’t seem to hear me: “Stop!”
That at least does the trick, making him jump like I'd pulled him back from outer space. His blond brows knit together as he meets my gaze, and this time I’m sure: there’s a whole lot of doubt swimming in those gray eyes.
“Did I do something wrong? Don’t you like blowjobs?" he asks, then traps his lower lip between his teeth as if to stop any more words from tumbling out. His eyes fall from my face straight to my crotch, and I almost laugh at that, raking a hand through my hair, knocking that damned cap off my head—I still haven’t gotten used to wearing it all the time.
It lands right next to Linden, and we both stare at the grinning badger on its front for a second before I reach for Linden’s shoulder and squeeze gently.
“Doyoulike blowjobs?”
“Of course!” he protests, and I raise a brow.
“Are you sure? Because just a second ago, it seemed like you were dissociating or something. Look, if you don’t enjoy giving them or have changed your mind about this—”
“That’s not it, Micah. I’m fine, I promise!” he interrupts. “Let’s just go back to—”
“Oh, hell no!” I snort when he slides his hands up my thighs again. I reach down and grab both of his wrists, holding them up.
