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He walks to the sink, giving me his back. Probably so that he won’t stare at my dick anymore while talking. “About last night.”
“What about it?”
“I’m not gay, man.”
Fuck’s sake. So predictable, Joel. “Fine. You’re not. Happy?”
He turns to give me a sharp look. “I mean it. I’m not into guys.”
“Then why are you looking at my dick?”
He curses and turns back around, his back a rigid line.
Stop pushing, I tell myself. Remember he’s your best friend. He’s your only family. This isn’t worth it.
I sigh. This is a fucked-up way to start a Sunday. “Look, J…” I scratch the back of my neck. “It’s okay.”
“I liked… being with Candy and you.”
The quiet confession startles me. I feel my eyes going round. “You did?”
I mean, I knew he liked watching. Maybe that’s what he means?
“I liked touching you both. Having you both follow my directions. Feeling you both there.”
Okay, this is much more than I expected Joel to admit to. And it scares me a little, because it gives me hope. More hope than I can afford.
“But that’s it.” A tremor goes through his strong back. “I don’t wanna kiss you, or blow you, or fuck you, okay?”
“Yeah, I heard you the first time. You’re not gay.” I put my mug down on the counter, not to throw it at him.
No point in explaining again what bisexuality means, that it’s normal to like both genders, that there’s nothing evil about it.
I’m not gay either. I like both. And in my case… I need both. I don’t know why—and I guess I never will—whether it was my fucked-up childhood or if the necessity was always in me.
“I’m gonna head out again,” he says after a moment. “Coming?”
“Nah, you go ahead.” I draw a deep, calming breath. “Got stuff to do.” Which isn’t a lie—I should do a load of laundry and study for my GED—but it still sounds oddly petulant in my ears. “Maybe some other day,” I add, to soften it.
“Jet.” When I don’t turn around, he moves closer, the heat of his body palpable.
He’s still here, and I need to clarify something. “So you liked it.” I glance at him over my shoulder. “The threesome. You’d do it again.”
It’s not a question, but it’s meant as one, and he seems to realize that. This guy knows me better than anyone.
“Yeah, I enjoyed it,” he says, his voice gravelly, and it sends a bolt of lust through me. “I want… I want to try more.”
‘More.’
That word. The word that’s been on my mind all this time, with all its implications.
“So we’ll do that,” I say, keeping my tone neutral, soft. “One of these days.”
“Yeah.” He exhales, his breath warm on my bare shoulder. God, he’s so damn close. I close my eyes, resisting the urge to turn and kiss him, grab him and slam him against the wall while I devour his mouth. “Catch ya later, fuckwit.”
He ruffles my hair and walks out of the kitchen, leaving me torn between frustration and laughter.
Grinning, I turn around and watch him go. I hear the apartment door click shut a moment later, and all I can think of is, he wants more.
