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My cheeks flame, but I try not to show it. “Of course. You’re a hot guy. But if that um...” Insecurity swamps me. “If that bothers you, I can try really hard to take you out of that category.”
“I told you I don’t mind.”
He did. And it damn near melted my brain. “Okay, right.” I sound like a crazy person, scrambling for words. But he’s spent so much of his life trying to make me feel better, and I want to make damn sure it’s equal. I want to make him feel at ease too. “So, I jerk off daily. Sometimes multiple times a day. Like I can’t fucking help it. It’s there. And since I’m not having sex with another human any time soon, might as well have sex with myself.” I expect him to laugh at my babbling, but he doesn’t. He just listens to me ramble on because he’s Adam, and that’s what he does. He humors me when I get like this. God help us all. “So I mean, what about you?”
He’s quiet for way too long, and I’m worried I’ve crossed a line before I finally hear him speak. “I don’t do it every day. Maybe like once a week or something. I don’t know. It’s...” I hear him swallow hard, and I hate that he’s struggling.
“Once a week is good. No one gets to say what’s normal.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I see beauty too. I can tell when a girl or guy is attractive, but I don’t want to have sex with them. It seems like a hassle when I can do it myself when I’m horny.”
Ugh. Thinking about Adam jerking off is a little too much for my super horny, very attracted-to-him self. But I try to school my features as I turn my head so I’m looking at him. “Theres nothing wrong with that. You’re not broken.”
“Sometimes I feel like a damn robot. Because I don’t want to date. I don’t want to get laid. I’m happy hanging out with you. I’m happy playing football. I like planning to build my house out on my family’s land. I just don’t think about sex all that damn much. And I feel broken.”
I can’t resist moving my hand so it lands on his firm, solid chest, right over his heart. “I felt that way too. I knew I was supposed to want to have sex with girls, but I just didn’t. But if you don’t think I’m broken, then you’re not broken either.”
He turns to look at me, his smile so damn sweet. “Okay. We’re not broken then.”
“Nope.”
His hand covers mine, and I jolt at the electricity shooting through my entire body when he touches me, but I keep still.
“Thank you, Zach.”
“Nothing to thank me for,” I say, and I mean it.
He’s always been there for me. I’m so damn grateful I get to be there for him, even if I don’t understand it fully. It doesn’t matter.
THIRTEEN
ADAM
I should probably feel weird about talking to my best friend about my dick and well... his, but I don’t. It actually feels a little freeing. I’ve felt like this for so damn long that admitting to him I think I’m broken has been liberating.
I mean, I still don’t understand what the hell is wrong with me and why I don’t want to fuck everything that moves, but Zach doesn’t seem that worried about it. He’s been more like himself lately than he has in a long damn time.
We joke and laugh at school, pretty much keeping to ourselves, but hanging out with the crowd too. We haven’t had any run-ins with Chloe since she was suspended for three days after that shit she pulled at the pep rally.
Things just seem to be better in a way I can’t really describe.
After practice, I need to head home for chores, but Zach asked if he could bring his sisters over and help out. There was no way I was going to say no to that. Not only does my mom love having the girls over, my dad loves having the extra help.
We grab the girls from their after-school programs and head to my place. His sisters ride with Zach and follow me out to my family’s farm. We both showered after practice, so once the girls are settled with mom inside, we head out to the barn.
There’s always a lot that needs to be done around here, but we start with shoveling fresh hay into the stalls. It’s getting colder at night now. Zach is quiet, at first, as we work, but then he suddenly blurts out, “I did some research.” And I stall in my movements and look over at him.
His cheeks flush, and goddammit, he’s cute.
Cute?
Huh. That’s a weird thought.But how else can I describe him, with his hair all tousled on his head but matted down with sweat at the same time. His cheeks blazing red and his eyes wide.
It’s cute, and I’m sticking to it.
“Research?” I ask.
He nods and then walks closer to me, keeping his voice low. “On the internet. Don’t worry, I just used my phone, and I don’t think my search history will go on the bill or anything. If it does, I’ll tell them...”
