7. Jorge
Jorge
CRUSHCRUSHCRUSH
I need to buy bigger shirts.
Every time Oli moves, I’m laser-focused on the piece of skin that flashes me.
I’ve tried for two hours not to look, but I can’t help it.
When I’d walked on him practically naked the other day, I didn’t look. I was a goddamn saint. But now, in my house, so close to me, I’m screwed. Never in my life have I looked at a happy trail and thought, yeah, that looks good. But his does. It looks so good. And soft. And inviting.
I kind of want to rub my face in it.
Here we go again. Stop it!
I glare at my cock that keeps twitching.
At this rate, I’m going to have to put a throw pillow over it.
For days, this… thing has been nagging at my brain. First, it was Oli’s mouth. Then, it was his blush. And after, it was the pet name. I came all over myself after he called me kitten last night. Just humped my pillow into oblivion like some gross teenager.
I don’t know what is happening. I can’t separate the love I feel for him as his friend from whatever is going on with my dick. It’s confusing me. I’m honestly freaked out because Oliver is a man.
He’s got a dick.
Balls, too. Probably big ones.
I’ve seen Phoenix naked plenty, and if he is anything like his… STOP.
“What?” Oli asks when I growl at the air. We’re watching another favorite of ours, The Crow.
“Nothing.”
“It’s something.”
“No, it’s not,” I hiss.
He laughs. This time, it’s a real one, and the movement makes that shirt slide higher. Like, it’s almost up to his belly button. Is he an innie or an outie? I hadn’t gotten a chance to see it before. My tongue feels too fat for my mouth, so I bite it, ignoring the view in my peripheral vision.
“You are a terrible liar. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.”
He studies the side of my face, the green orbs like fingers stroking down my cheek. God, why do I want to know what that’d feel like? Why am I broken? Something broke, I’m sure of it.
“Fine. Keep your secrets,” he teases, using Frodo’s infamous line against me.
I finally look at him, forcing my eyeballs to stay on his face, not the obscene outline in his sweats. That bulge is far more prominent in sweats. Skin-tight sweats. It shouldn’t even bother me. I shouldn’t even notice! Why am I noticing?
Someone kill me.
Just put me out to pasture.
“I need some water,” I blurt, rushing to stand and power walk to the kitchen.
I want to ask Phoenix about this. My fingertips burn with the need to text him instead of getting this water bottle. He’d know what is happening to me. He’d be able to tell me if I was just in a sex drought and desperate or if my dick broke. The thing is pointing away from its true north.
But if I tell him, he’ll want to know who makes me crazy. Who is giving me awkward boners at the wrong times.
Like this morning when I was helping my aunt lift a sofa I thought about Oli’s strong arms being able to move furniture twice as fast and there it was. Saluting my sixty-five-year-old aunt Linda.
Maybe I could just tell Phoenix I watched gay porn again.
It’s not the first time I’ve done it accidentally. I've waited for the girls to show up, and they never do. I might have watched long enough to see a blowjob or seven. No biggie. Everyone gets curious. But I didn’t get hard watching. Didn’t fantasize about the twink’s lips wrapped around my dick.
Nope. Not me.
Pussy all the way over here.
I laugh hysterically, feeling dizzy.
This is Oli. My friend. My second best friend. The person I always want to hang out with because we just click.
We vibe.
Peanut butter and fucking jelly, my dude.
I can’t do this.
God, I can’t breathe either.
“Jorge,” Oli demands, hovering only a few feet away while I hyperventilate. My dick does not get the message. It wants to say hello and show off how it curves slightly to the right.
“I’m fine,” I say loudly, hitting my chest with my fist to clear my airpipe. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not. You’re acting weird as fuck right now. Is it because I showed up? I didn’t mean to cry.”
“No,” I wheeze. “Never feel bad about that. Crying is good for you. Everyone should cry. In fact, I’m going to right now.” The tears come on demand as my dick chubs up even more because he looks at me with something like sympathetic affection, and I’m so needy, so fucking needy for anyone to love me and pat my head that I just sob right there in my kitchen.
I hold my face while my shoulders tremble, needing something, anything .
I’m living with so much guilt and confusion. The urge to scream at the top of my lungs for relief is getting harder to bear. Won’t someone hold me? Tell me it will all be alright?
“Please stop crying,” Oli begs, voice guttural.
I slurp back my tears at his tone, willing every emotion inside me to screech to a halt. “I’m trying.” I scrub at my face, cleaning the tear streaks with my palm.
When I finally manage to look at Oli, I almost crack all over again.
There’s a desperation in his eyes, something so palpable that I can feel it in my chest. His fingers twitch at his sides, back stiff, jaw tight. It’s like he’s physically holding himself back—from what, I don’t know.
“Talk to me,” he urges.
Well, since he’s given me the greenlight…
I suck in a breath, holding the counter beside me for support. Thankfully my dick has deflated, so I won’t have that stacked against me. “It’s getting strange between us,” I admit out loud for the first time.
“It is,” he agrees, folding his arms protectively.
“I’m…attached, Oli.”
He nods, understanding. “I…me too.”
We share a combined exhale, relaxing a fraction. It feels good to know that I’m not alone in this. “What do we do?” I whisper, holding his stare.
“I’m not sure.”
“ Can we do anything?”
He wets his lips, opening and closing them. “No, Jorge. We can’t.”
Well, that hurts more than I thought it would. I don’t even know what I want to do about this, just that the need to act on it is suffocating.
Being around him feels like finding something deeper than a friend. I still can’t believe we are here. But, he’s right. It’s bad enough that we hide our friendship; adding anything else would complicate it. I can’t even begin to entertain the devastation we’d wreak on Phoenix if he found out about us as is, let alone if something…more were to come of it.
“Okay,” I concede, swallowing hard and pushing my hair away from my face. It falls right back to its original spot. “I’ll back off.”
“That’s not what I want,” he rushes out and steps closer. The air is siphoned right out of the space between us as he visibly shakes with restraint. “Don’t back off. Just… What changed?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, feeling helpless and defeated. “I’m so confused.”
“About me?”
“No,” I breathe. “About me .” I hold my chest as my pulse thumps in my ears. “But I’ll figure it out. I always do.” I try to smile but it must resemble baring my teeth.
Oliver’s eyes soften. “Come on. Let’s go back to the couch.”
I nod, following him out of the kitchen.
We take up our spots again, the movie half over by now, and we watch in charged silence.
I keep sneaking glances at him, trying to decide why I’m looking at him differently when all I’d seen before was my friend. Just Oli. The person who makes my heart pitter-patter with happiness. Knowing how far he’s come and how he clings to me as hard as I cling to him brings me such distinct peace.
It’s like I’ve lived my whole life in restlessness.
And I have been restless. Never being able to settle down, always looking for the next thing. Searching for a harbor when I’ve been out at sea.
Oli is the lighthouse on the black horizon, guiding me home. He’s where I want to be.
Maybe that’s why things have shifted, why I’m so confused. The way I feel about him is different from anyone else. People need me until they don’t. Phoenix needed me this past year, but I’m no longer number one.
That’s the thing about being a hero. You can save everyone , but when your heart is running on fumes, all those people you helped and gave every inch to forget that it needs to go both ways. Sometimes, the hero needs to be saved, even if it’s harder to see. And that is what makes Oli stand out.
When all my friends forget about me and go on with their lives, Oli makes sure to remind me that I’m important in his.
I am never not wanted.
“ W hatcha doing?” Oli asks later in the evening.
I went down the rabbit hole on Amazon looking for a birthday gift for Michael. We’re having a good-sized party for him this coming Saturday, and I have been a terrible friend, not securing his present ahead of time. Four days to get one seems too last minute. After knowing Michael for nearly fourteen years, you'd think I’d have a good idea of what to get him, but he’s impossible to shop for. He’s going to be upset about presents even if they’re all rocks.
I flick my gaze over at Oli, who is still wearing my too-small clothes. His are currently in my dryer. "I'm trying to figure out what to buy Michael,” I sigh.
His relaxed position changes at the mention of my friend and guitarist. All the color in his face floods down below the collar of his shirt. “Oh,” he says softly, reaching for his phone now.
“It’s his birthday.” I watch him closely, trying to figure out what’s got him all cagey.
“I know.”
“You do?” I wouldn’t have thought he’d remember it.
My mind races back in time to Michael and his twin, Morgan's, eighteenth birthday party. It was crazy . So many people showed up, we were all hammered as shit—except Phoenix—and I’m fairly certain I ended up half-naked asleep on top of a washing machine. I can’t recall if Oli was there, though. I think he was invited.
Maybe.
I keep my eyes on him while he looks up motorcycle parts online.
He’s fucking panting. The wide barrel of his chest expands, damn near ripping my shirt in two with the strength of it.
Sometimes, the tiniest of things will trigger Oli's addiction. Maybe mentioning a birthday makes him think of parties. And parties often have more than just alcohol floating around; I know Michael’s did.
I wet my lips, grasping at random shit to say to shift his thoughts, to pull him out of this funk. Hustling to my knees, I inch as close as I can without him running from me, and I just blurt out the first thing that comes to my brain.
“I swallowed a marble once.”
He blinks, the color in his cheeks returning quickly, and lowers his phone to his lap. His pretty green eyes find mine, a thick blond eyebrow arching. “What?”
“Yup. I was thirteen.”
“Thirteen?!” Now he’s invested.
Laughing, I rub the back of my neck bashfully and nod. “Wasn’t the brightest kid ever. But I liked how smooth it felt in my mouth.”
He gulps. “And you swallowed it.”
“Down the hatch.”
“Did you go to the hospital?”
My cheeks burn as I admit this. “No. Came out all on its own.”
Oliver’s eyes bug out of his head, realization hitting him, and he tosses his head back and laughs. He laughs so loud that I join in. It’s a wonderful sound, full of heart and bass. It makes my chest pitter-patter. Deciding right then and there that I want to keep him smiling and light, I continue.
“The worst part was that it was disguised by poop. The only reason I knew it came out was because of the loud ding at the bottom of the toilet.”
“Oh. My. God.” He wheezes, holding his stomach, feet kicking. “That is terrible , Jorge. Your poor hole.”
“It wasn’t a big marble. Barely even pushed.”
Laughing more, he rolls his head to face me, cheeks pink, a brilliant smile on his face. “Thank you for telling me. Now I know to hide my marbles.”
“I don’t still suck on marbles. God, Oli.” I huff in faux annoyance.
And then…something happens.
It’s so fast that I can barely register it as fact instead of a hallucination.
Oli taps the tip of my nose with his finger. With his finger!
I sputter, sagging onto my haunches further and gripping the back of my sofa for support.
He…he touched me. All on his own.
He booped me!
“You booped me,” I croak, tears forming in my eyes.
Oli blushes deeply and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “I suppose I did,” he whispers, nervously brushing his palms over his thighs.
I so want to make a big deal out of this. I mean, this is a big deal.
Other than that one time when he ninja-flipped me, he’s never touched me. I mean, not even accidentally. He always keeps a bubble around him, and he just broke through it to give me the tiniest speck of affection. God, I feel like I’m going to explode from holding back. I want to rocket launch directly into his chest and stuff my face in his throat.
Wait.
Wait.
Checking in with myself mentally, I pat down my body with my imagination, making sure it’s all still there. I really do want that. I want to cuddle him and feel his big body next to me—on me.
This is bad. Bad, Jorge.
I wince, catching him withdrawing further into the cushions like he regrets it. Can’t make a big deal about this. I can’t.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
So, I do the only logical thing. I reach over and boop his nose.
He gasps. Full-on gasps . His eyes snap to mine in part shock and part horror. “What was that for?”
“To pull you out of whatever dark hole you went into.”
We stare at each other, static crawling up my arms and making the hairs stand erect. His breaths are shallow, few and far between. “How do you know that? That I go to that place sometimes.”
I shrug, maneuvering to sit on my butt. “Your eyes stop shining.”
His answer is another pretty blush right as my dryer buzzes loudly, shattering the moment.