Page 9 of Catching Sparkles

“Is that a secret fantasy of yours or something?” he asked, finally shifting his gaze over to me. Most of the awkward tension in his eyes and body language was already starting to fade away, which I was glad for.

He’d always been easy for me to talk to, and things had never really been weird between us. Not counting the conversation we’d had about my ex. I wasn’t exactly sure if he’d been the one to make that weird, or if I’d been the culprit.

I shouldn’t have encouraged him to keep talking about her, but… It felt so fucking good for someone to be so vehemently on my side. It was like he’d never considered for a single moment that maybe she’d cheated because I just wasn’t good enough. Not good enough at being a financial provider, not good enough at appearing intelligent and sophisticated and well-spoken at the snooty parties she’d always insisted on dragging me to so she could network about her event planning services. Not good enough at sex. Obviously.

Fuck. I was pathetic. I was more than aware of that fact about myself, but for whatever reason the idea that he’d figure it out too and lose faith in me was… Daunting. And that was even more pathetic. That my current state of self esteem was so fragile it was being held up by a twink in fluffy pink socks that I’d known since before he could do long division.

“Doesn’t every guy fantasize about protecting his family by fighting off an intruder?” I mused, and he snorted, shaking his head so the moonlight from the window shimmered over his hair. My fingertips tingled with a brief itch to touch it. It looked so soft and shiny.

“Male power fantasy,” he said, before wrinkling his nose to show his disdain for the concept.

“Oh,” I responded flatly, smirking as I tilted my head. “And I’m sure your fantasies are just so cultured and worldly, Sparkles.”

He laughed, and I realized that I’d been subconsciously trying to coax it out again. Like him, it was soft and cute and kind of musical.

“You don’t want to know.”

My immediate instinct was to agree with him. Of course I didn’t want to know what my little brother’s gay best friend tended to fantasize about. Why would I want to know that? I’d have to be in a really weird state of mind to have even the slightest desire for that kind of knowledge.

“Something G-rated,” I urged, keeping my eyes on him as I retreated the rest of the way into my room, lowering myself back down into the armchair.

He eyed me for a few moments, before following me the rest of the way in and plopping down on the edge of my bed, pulling his legs up into a criss-cross position. I’d tried not to look below his waist while we’d been talking, but now that his body was pushed up into my view, I couldn’t stop my eyes from flickering over his whole form. How could a guy be so small and smooth and pretty?

“I don’t know if I have any fantasies like that,” he admitted. “I just want…” He trailed off, before pushing a hand through his bangs, looking mildly embarrassed. It was worrisome how badly I wanted him to finish that sentence. “I just want, like, a real relationship. I want a house. I want a yard. I want kids one day. I want a guy that looks at me and likes everything about me and doesn’t think about how I’d be hotter if I didn’t paint my nails or if I worked out a little more. Or that I should get a real job and stop putting dumb clips of myself online or whatever.” He stopped suddenly, seeming to realize he’d been rambling a bit. Not that I’d minded.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re asking for a lot.”

“It doesn’t feel like it either.”

“So…” I started, shifting in my seat as I let the question I had stewing in my brain make its way to my mouth. “If that’s how it is, how come you’re not barefoot and pregnant in some guy’s kitchen right now?”

Snorting, he gave me a dry but amused look. “I’m afraid I have something to tell you about my anatomy that might blow your mind, Rhys.”

“No, I know,” I said quickly, not able to stop my own laugh. Kendall’s dick was the absolute last thing I needed to be thinking about in that moment. “You get what I mean.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Um, it’s just not that easy, I guess. I’m picky.”

“Ah,” I acknowledged with a nod. A twinge of bitterness bloomed in my gut, threatening to dash out all the warm, fuzzy comfort he’d lit up inside me by being so sweet and supportive. “Let me guess. You want a guy with a big wallet, a big house, and a big dick.”

“Oh! God, no,” he denied quickly, shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that. I don’t need to be rich or anything. Um, it’s more of, like, a problem with… Well, I mean, look at me.”

“Yeah?” I didn’t have a clue what he could possibly mean by that, but his assertion that he wasn’t another stuck-up materialistic snob sent a wave of pure relief through me. In terms of his appearance… There was nothing wrong. Nothing. Not one single thing about him that wasn’t completely adorable, or almost unbearably pretty.

“Well, I’m not exactly a beacon of, you know, macho virility.”

“You’re gay,” I blurted out, confused. He blinked in surprise, but the corner of his lips perked up, his green eyes dancing with amusement. “I mean… The guys you date are gay, right? Shouldn’t they be into that? How you are, I mean?”

“Guessing you haven’t heard of masc for masc.”

“Mask?” I repeated, my brows drawing together. “Like… A medical mask? To keep from getting sick or something?”

He stared at me, unblinking, for the span of several heartbeats before bursting into laughter. Clutching his stomach, he rolled over onto my bed as he let it out. The new position unfortunately gave me a perfect view of the outline of his perky little peach of a butt through those stupid little shorts. Please don’t get hard again, I silently begged my dick. I wasn’t ready to consider the implications of that. I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready to consider the implications of that.

“Oh my god,” he panted after a few more seconds. “You’re killing me, Rhys. That’s so cute.”

“What’d I say?” I asked, pointedly ignoring how the way he’d called me cute had my stomach clenching and and tensing, sending tingles of pleasure spiraling out through my limbs. In a direct insubordination to what I’d only just asked of it, my cock stiffened, tenting out my jeans. Adjusting myself quickly before he could sit back up and see, I cleared my throat.

“Masc for masc is like… What guys put on their dating profiles when they’re only looking for other masculine guys,” he finally said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye once he’d composed himself enough to talk. “They mean they’re not interested in guys who are effeminate or androgynous or whatever. Guys like me.”