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“For real?”
Even without any light, I could feel him tensing. “Never mind.”
This should have been our chance to leave the crazy behind us, but it seemed that Chris was fine with embracing our new type of closeness. I was used to feeling that he was becoming a part of my past, an old friend with a shared history and limited future. If this was my shot at changing that future into something resembling our past, I’d be a fool to walk away from that.
“Turn around,” I said.
“You don’t have to.”
“Turn around, little spoon. The big spoon commands it.”
He turned around in silence, and I wrapped my arm around him, surprised by how natural it felt. His bare ass rested against my limp cock. I thought of making a joke about it but chose to let it go.
He felt warm and smooth, strong yet fragile. “Okay like this?” I asked.
“Yes. Can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
“When we first met, I didn’t like you.”
“The hell?”
“Just listen. I was a mess when it came to socializing, and you were great at it. It bugged me how natural you were with things I couldn’t get the hang of, so it seemed logical for me to follow you around and copy your moves.”
“So you were only there to gather data?”
“Yes.”
I shouldn’t have been hurt by his honesty, yet it stung knowing the beginning of our friendship had been a lie, at least on his part.
“When did you start liking me?”
“Remember I disappeared for a few days, then came back sick?”
“Sick? I thought you were going to die. You never told me where you’d been.”
“It had something to do with the Mitchells.”
“Your adoptive family?”
“Yes. They used to own a small house about an hour away from our college, near an abandoned amusement park. Maybe they still own it. Anyway, the two brothers took me there. When they finally let me go after four days, I was going through withdrawal.”
“Withdrawal?”
“From drugs.”
I frowned. “You were doing drugs?” We spent too much time together during school for me to have missed something like that.
“They gave me drugs so I wouldn’t try to escape. You…” He cleared his throat quietly, but tears could sometimes make a sound. “You told my asshole roommate to switch rooms with you so you could stay with me. I asked you to leave because I didn’t want you to see me so weak, and it felt wrong having you helping me when in my mind we weren’t truly friends. But you told me to shut up, then you stayed there for a week.”
“You didn’t want to go to the hospital.”
“If I’d have gone, the Mitchells would have known. They would have covered the hospital bill and that would have meant one more thing for them to hold over me. Death seemed more appealing.” He quietly wiped his eyes. “I remember you sitting there with your books every time I opened my eyes. There was always water waiting next to my bed, and a wet towel on my forehead.”
That week had been terrifying, and Chris’s refusal to go to the hospital had been fierce. Even back then, his stubbornness was unmatched.
“You mumbled in your sleep one time,” I said, a forgotten memory resurfacing. “I called your name to wake you up, and you opened your eyes and looked at me, but it didn’t feel like you were really looking at me. You asked, ‘Did you touch me?’ and I said that I didn’t. You looked at me for a few seconds more, then turned around and said, ‘Don’t ever touch me.’ I completely forgot about that.” It was weird remembering that while every part of my body was currently touching him.
