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“I mean more of this, the talking… about the little stuff.” Theo fell silent for a moment, once again lost in thought. His eyes finally lifted to meet mine again. “I want us to be friends, Lincoln. I… I haven’t had any of those in a really long time.”
“Done.” I nodded without hesitation.
Theo bit into his lower lip briefly. “But you can’t touch me again. Not like last night, not like—”
“Friendswithoutbenefits,” I interrupted.
“It’s not about you, Lincoln. You make me feel things that I’ve never…” He fell silent for a moment. “That I’ve never felt before, not even with Ford when we were kids. But I’m not like other guys. I thought with you it might be different, but last night…”
He was becoming so flustered that I feared he’d back out of the whole being friends thing.
“You don’t owe me any explanations, Theo. I’ll take just friends. I’ll take whatever you can give me.”
Theo nodded and for a moment, when he looked at my mouth, I hoped he’d kiss me again, but he seemed to catch himself just as he started to lean in. He managed to climb off my lap and reached a hand down to help me up. His touch immediately sent sparks up my arm, and the fact that he released me the second I was up and then stared at his hand like it had been burned or something told me he’d felt it too.
Friends.
For two weeks.
Only one word came to mind when I thought about the next fourteen days of needing to keep my hands off him.
How?
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
THEO
“Theo?”
Lincoln’s worried voice from behind me had me tearing my eyes from the house I’d been staring at for God only knew how long.
“I’m okay,” I said. I found myself reaching out for his hand because the concern in his eyes was disturbing. I knew that concern was for me, but I didn’t like seeing it in his pretty blue eyes, especially since everything had changed the day before after our very untraditional shower.
There’d been this awkward moment when we’d both been standing in the bathroom dripping wet yet still fully clothed. We’d stared at each other for a long time and while I hadn’t known what had been going through his mind, I’d been aware of whathadbeen going through mine. I’d wanted to slowly strip right there in front of him and I wanted him to do the same. Despite making him promise we’d be just friends and there couldn’t be a repeat of the night before, there’d been a part of me that had wanted to take that last part back. I hadn’t even really gotten to see any part of Lincoln’s body yet.
But Lincoln had been the better man and had grabbed two towels and handed me one before he’d excused himself to go dry off in his bedroom and get changed. Strangely enough, I hadn’t felt the need to lock the door on his side as I’d stripped off my wet clothes and rubbed my body dry. I hadn’t wanted to think too much about what that had meant.
I’d left my clothes on the floor so I could hurry to my room and search out some dry ones from my bag which had still been sitting on the floor where Lincoln had pushed it when he’d laid me down on the bed the night before. The tell-tale sign of my hardening cock had gotten me moving and I’d put on my only other pair of jeans because wearing sweats around Lincoln just wasn’t a good idea. It wasn’t until I’d put a fresh T-shirt on that I’d realized my hoodie was still in the bathroom soaking wet.
It was my only long-sleeved piece of clothing.
Before I’d even had enough time to lose my shit over the fact that the cuts on my arms would be exposed for all the world to see if I dared to leave my room, there’d been a knock on my bathroom door.
“It’s me,” Lincoln had called.
My stomach had felt like there were a million butterflies dancing around in it as I’d forced myself to go to the door and open it.
Lincoln had been standing there, freshly dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and there was a laundry basket full of both his and my wet clothes on the floor at his feet.
“Here,” he’d said. “It’s a little tight on me and it’ll probably still be too big for you, but you might also not feel so hot like the hoodie probably makes you.” He’d held out his hand. A forest-green shirt had been bunched up in it. I’d taken it but before I could respond to him, Lincoln had blurted, “I didn’t mean the hoodie makes you look hot like in a good-looking way, just hot as in being outside in the heat and needing to wear it.” I’d sworn his eyes had bugged out at that point as he’d quickly added, “Not that you aren’t good-looking in the hoodie because you totally are. Like, hot—reallyhot.”
I’d found my smile growing with every awkward sentence that had fallen out of his mouth.
“Jesus,” Lincoln had muttered to himself. He’d shaken his head and had grabbed the laundry basket. “I’ll get this stuff in the wash and as soon as your hoodie is dry, I’ll get it back to you.”
As Lincoln had begun to walk back toward his own room with the laundry basket, I hadn’t been able to help but press the shirt against my chest. It’d been such a simple, sweet gesture but it had felt like he’d handed me the moon itself.
“Hey, Lincoln?” I’d called just as he’d been about to shut the door on his side of the bathroom. I’d waited until he was looking at me. I’d still had his shirt pressed against my chest. “No rush,” I’d called before I’d slowly closed the bathroom door on my side. I’d leaned back against it and drawn the soft fabric up enough to smell the material.
