Page 24 of Those Eyes, That Mouth

Neither of us said anything.

I ran my hand down his back, feeling the damp hair at the nape of his neck, the curve of his spine.

I'd always thought of him as sweet and gentle. Unsure of who he was or what he wanted.

But he was sure. And he wanted me.

He’d chosen me.

He slowly stroked the back of my arm.

Quietly, he asked, "What happens now?"

I didn't have an answer.

When he reached over for the ashtray—and saw the trunk still open, my clothes dumped inside—he paused.

"So you were seriously already packing?"

My face went hot. "Yeah. I was gonna move out today. So you wouldn't have to feel uncomfortable rooming with a gay guy."

He snorted. "Oh no. We couldn't have that."

He got out of bed, comfortably naked. He grabbed an armful of my clothes from the trunk and tossed them over the back of the chair so he could close the lid. He set the ashtray back on top, and climbed back into bed with me. Like he was saying, Well, that's not happening.

He lay back with his ankles crossed and started rolling a cigarette on his naked hip, right there next to his big beautiful dick.

We lay there the way we had that afternoon—side by side on his bottom bunk. Only this time, when Nathan put his arm behind his head, I didn't hesitate. I snuggled into the space he made for me and put my head on his chest.

I listened to his heartbeat. Steady and strong.

Outside, the sodium lights hummed and threw long, orange blocks across the floor. The nighttime version of the golden rectangles from that afternoon.

His fingers combed through my hair, gentle and repetitive.

I wondered about tomorrow—if we were going to tell people or if we’d just keep doing this in secret—but the thought felt far away.

I didn't know what was going to happen next.

But right now, he was touching me.

SEVEN

Sunday morning.

I'd barely slept.

I kept waking up every hour, maybe every half hour, not because I was uncomfortable but because I didn't want to miss any of this.

And I kept getting hard over and over again.

In the gray light seeping through the windows, my dresser drawers hung open and empty. The trunk was closed again, even though half my clothes were still packed at the bottom.

But I definitely wasn't going anywhere.

Nathan was warm and solid in my arms, letting me hold him. His beautiful body—that I'd been trying not to notice for two months—now pressed back against me. I was the big spoon, one arm wrapped around him, his hand holding mine against his chest. His heartbeat steady under my palm.

I pressed my nose against the back of his neck and breathed him in.