11
I was aware of the heavy presence against my back before I was fully conscious. I woke up slowly, taking in glimpses of the ceiling and the cracks of light spilling into my apartment, and then I noticed the arm splayed across my side and the face pressed into my back.
I froze. I could tell from his breathing that Leo was still asleep, and I didn’t want to wake him. If I did, he’d have to reckon with what he’d done last night. I would have to reckon with it.
I’d taken the virginity of a self-proclaimed straight boy, who maybe wasn’t as straight as he said, who likened sexuality to flavours of ice cream in a way that was both completely ridiculous and unbelievably adorable.
Carefully, I began to turn around so my back wasn’t pressed up against him, but he mumbled something and swung a heavy leg over my thigh, trapping me.
I didn’t let that stop me. Slowly, I rolled over until I was facing him. His shower last night must’ve washed away whatever he’d put in his hair to make it wavy because it was back to normal. His legs, the only part of him awake (well, maybe not the only part), twisted around me, tugging me closer. I yelped in surprise, causing his lashes to flutter.
“Mornin’ Winnie,” he murmured, and holy shit, his voice was so much deeper in the morning.
“Hi,” I said, pulling the bedding up to my eyes before catching myself. Why was I acting like this was the first time a boy had slept over? I pushed the blanket down to reveal my face. I was totally fine. This was totally fine. I’d done this before, so why did I feel anxious?
Because I was afraid of Leo’s reaction. But he wasn’t reacting at all.
“How did you sleep?” I asked casually.
“Really well,” he said. “Best night of sleep I’ve had in a while.” He tugged me closer, and I twisted my head away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I, uh…I have morning breath.”
“I don’t care,” he said, leaning forward, but I twisted my head even more.
“I care,” I said.
“Do you not want to kiss me?” He sounded hurt.
“No,” I said. “No, that’s not…just let me brush my teeth first.” I made to push myself out of bed, but Leo wrapped his hands around my torso, tugging me back to him.
“Leo,” I said.
“What?” He blinked innocently.
“You’re not letting me go.”
“I want to cuddle.”
I couldn’t believe this was the same guy who I met at the front of a cafe less than a week ago.
“Cuddling or kissing. You choose.”
“Both,” he said, squeezing me close, and I dodged his head at the last minute. I didn’t even want to breathe on him. Sure, Leo’s exhale was kind of morning-y, but it didn’t repulse me, or maybe he was so good-looking that I overlooked it.
“Fine,” Leo said, sounding as if he’d made a big sacrifice rather than letting me walk five metres to the bathroom.
I disentangled myself from his long limbs and rolled out of bed. The apartment was cold compared to the heat of Leo’s body and the furnace of us cooking under my bedsheets. In the bathroom, I quickly brushed my teeth, and once I returned to the bed, Leo tugged me close and kissed me.
I made a surprised noise, and he pulled back, inspecting me with concern. “My breath isn’t gross, is it?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. Not at all.”
“Why were you so worried about yours, then?”
“Mine’s particularly…”
Leo frowned. “Who told you that?”
“Just some random.” I couldn’t even remember his name.
“A guy?”
I nodded.
“And he just told you that? To your face?”
“Hookups are generally blunt and honest.”
“But he hurt your feelings.”
“He told me the truth. I’d be the same way.” Sure, sometimes hookups could be callous, but that’s because everyone knew it was more likely than not that you’d never see them again. You couldn’t get mad at someone just because they didn’t want to kiss you. Everyone was entitled to their own preferences.
Leo didn’t reply, he just looked at me with a tiny line between his brows. Then he started attacking me with kisses. At first, I thought he might’ve been trying to console me, which was sweet, but I didn’t need his pity. Then I felt his hard cock rub against my thigh, and I realised it wasn’t pity at all.
I kissed him back, slowing his pace because he was feasting on my lips like there’d soon be a famine. I raised my thigh and pressed it against his groin, and he let out a little whimper, so much higher and more whiny than his deep morning voice, and the contrast made my dick twitch.
Slowly, I rubbed my leg against him, and it got to a point where Leo had to stop kissing me just so he could catch his breath, and I would’ve been lying if his ragged exhales didn’t boost my ego.
“Do you want me to suck you off again?” I whispered.
His chest shifted with a sharp inhale, but to my surprise, he didn’t nod. He didn’t say yes, either. Instead, he rolled me over so I was on my back and slid himself on top of me. He was heavy, but not painfully so, and soon, the weight of him disappeared as he held himself up on his hands on either side of my head, knees on either side of my thighs. He rutted against me like an animal in heat, and I was still expecting him to take me on my offer when he lowered his head to kiss me.
And kissed me and kissed me and kissed me, still clumsy, our noses bumping, his tongue sliding against mine. His humping movements were similarly graceless, and as time went on and his breath became heavier, his body became jerky and erratic.
His erection rubbed up against mine, and despite the layers of clothing between us, I felt the electric slide of him as if he were naked. His movements became more and more frantic until his hips suddenly stilled, shoulders shuddering, as he panted into my mouth.
Wetness seeped through his shorts to my own pyjama pants, and my cock stiffened even more than it already had, wanting release more than anything. After the orgasm had finished racking through Leo, he carefully dropped to the side of me, face up, so he wouldn’t stain my bedding with cum. I’d probably have to wash it and my sheets anyway sex.
Leo mumbled something.
“Huh?” I asked.
“I ruined your shorts. I’ll wash them.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“No,” he said firmly. “I’m washing them.” Suddenly, he covered his face with his hands and let out a long groan.
My stomach seized. Oh god. Was Leo having post-nut regret?
“You let me borrow your clothes, and I came in them,” Leo said, his voice muffled by his hands. “And I came so quickly. I’m like a…a horny teenager.”
“You are a teenager,” I reminded him.
“I’m turning twenty soon,” he said, peeling his hands off his face to give me a look.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” I said. “It was fucking hot.”
“Really?”
Was he genuinely that oblivious to his own appeal? Or was he fishing for compliments again?
“Do you think my boner was stabbing you for the hell of it?” I asked.
Leo reached over and brushed my groin. My lips parted at the sudden unexpectedness, and I realised this was the first time Leo had touched me there. But as soon as the touch came, he snatched his fingers away.
“D-do you want me to…” He didn’t look me in the eye.
“It’s nice of you to offer,” I said, “but it’s okay.” There was no way I would make an unwilling man get me off just because he felt a polite obligation to offer.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Do you want to shower?” It couldn’t be comfortable for him to wear shorts dirtied with drying cum.
“Okay,” he said. “Just a quick one. To wash myself off.” He pushed himself out of bed and grabbed the same towel he’d used last night before disappearing into the bathroom. I opened the blinds, filling the room with daylight. For a Saturday morning, the streets were already busy, with a tram travelling past a nearby street, depositing and picking up crowds of people that, from up here, looked like clusters of ants.
I’d just turned the kettle on when Leo came out, dressed in the same clothes as the day before. His pyjamas were balled in up in a roll he clutched in one hand.
“I don’t have any coffee,” I told him apologetically, “but I have instant matcha lattes and tea if you want it. Help yourself.” I gestured to the plastic hamper I used for my laundry. “You can throw those in there,” I said, referring to the pyjamas.
“I told you I’d wash them,” he said.
“Okay. I’m gonna head in for a shower. I won’t be long.”
For the second time in twelve hours, I killed my boner with cold water. I took my time washing off the remnants of sex and sleep from my body, and I stepped out of the bathroom, wondering what drink Leo had gone with.
The question died on my tongue. He hadn’t chosen any drink. He’d left.
“You look like shit,” Rome said when I dumped my sorry ass into the seat beside him. The rest of our Intro to B Law class looked about as excited as anyone would for a morning tutorial about the most boring topic known to mankind.
“Thanks, babe,” I told him. “You really know how to compliment a man.”
“You look exhausted,” he corrected. “Don’t tell me you went out last night.”
“I don’t go out anymore.”
“Mm-hmm,” he said sceptically.
“I don’t,” I insisted. “The only reason I did that was to pull, and I’m not doing that anymore.” I took my laptop out of my backpack and turned it on.
“How did it go with the LULL boy?”
“Huh?”
“The guy from LULL who you said looked like a model and studied physics?”
“Oh. Yeah. Him.”
“Don’t tell me you forgot he existed,” Rome said. “You talked my ear off about him.”
“We went on a date on Friday.”
“The double date?” Rome said.
“Yes.”
“With the straight boy.”
“His name is Leo.”
Leo, who I hadn’t spoken to since Saturday morning.
I was a little pissed. When I left Friday morning, I had the courtesy to text to let him know I’d gone. He just disappeared while I was in the shower. He hadn’t even said goodbye.
What if I never saw him again?
Rome was narrowing his eyes at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You look sad.”
“It’s 10 AM on a Tuesday, and I’m about to sit here for two hours discussing the various legal defences to a breach of contract. Of course I’m sad.”
He shook his head. “You’re a specific kind of sad. Love-life-sad. And it has to do with the straight boy.”
“His name’s Leo,” I said, too tired to be irritated, “and he said he might not be as straight as he thought.”
“Oh, Eddie,” Rome said, and his expression transformed from suspicious to pitiful, which was worse. “Don’t tell me you —”
“Yeah, I did. I know, I know. Don’t tell me you told me so.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Rome said. “Did he freak out at you?”
“Not at me,” I said. “He left while I was in the shower.”
“He didn’t leave a message?”
I shook my head.
Rome squeezed my hand.
“I honestly wish he’d freaked out at me,” I said, “but he’s not the type to do that. He’s too nice.”
“How do you know that? You’ve known him for a week.”
“Yeah, but it feels like I’ve known him for longer. It was so easy with him. Now we can’t even be friends.” I sank into my chair. “Mostly, I feel stupid. I told myself not to like him. That’s rule number one when finding a boyfriend, y’know? Don’t get attached to unavailable people.”
Rome nodded.
“But then he said that he liked me. He said I made him feel giddy. I let myself hope…and then he disappeared in the morning just like a hookup.”
“I’m sorry, Eddie.”
“I’m so dumb,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I should’ve known it was a bad idea.”
“If he told you he liked you, you’re not dumb for believing him. I’ve never met the guy, but he sounds like a genuine person.”
“He is genuine,” I insisted, ignoring the voice in the back of my mind that reminded me I’d only known him for a week. “He wouldn’t lie —” I cut myself off.
He wouldn’t lie just to have sex. Not when he was a virgin. Not when he was so shy about the whole thing.
“He didn’t lie,” I repeated, mostly to myself. “He just freaked out. And if he wants to, and if he’s ready, he’ll talk to me.” I believed it. Mostly.
The thing was, I knew he wanted to kiss me. He kissed me a lot. Horny straight boys didn’t kiss gay guys just to get their dick wet.
But…
He hadn’t touched me, not down where he’d have to confront the fact I was a man. Yes, he knew that I was a guy, but there was a difference between looking at someone’s face and having your hand wrapped around their penis. The one time his fingers had brushed my erection, he’d snatched his hand away as if he’d been burned.
Rome was looking at me. “What are you going to do about Atticus?”
Shit, Atticus.
“I need to talk to him,” I said. I would have to break things off — it wouldn’t be fair to him to keep dating him when I wanted Leo. Even if I never saw Leo again, I couldn’t treat Atticus like some consolation prize. I groaned. “I feel so bad. It’s not like he did anything wrong.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Rome said, patting me on the back.
“Maybe if I never mixed him up with Leo…maybe if I’d met him first, everything would be different. We only hung out twice. If I hadn’t slept with Leo that night, then we could’ve kept getting to know each other, and then maybe —”
Maybe we would’ve developed feelings for each other?
I thought back to the single conversation I’d had one one-on-one with Atticus last Friday. You and Leo. Is there really nothing going on between you two?
I texted Atticus to meet, and we agreed on the same time and place as our first date: midday at Professors Lane Cafe on Wednesday. I arrived early, so I ordered a matcha latte and sat down at one of the wooden tables.
A few minutes later, Atticus walked in wearing a wine-red scarf and chunky jumper that, on me, would’ve made me look like a lumpy space princess but somehow looked like high fashion on him. He nodded at me before ordering at the counter.
A few minutes later, he came over and sat down, placing a mocha on the table and unspooling the scarf from around his neck.
“Hello,” he said. No handshake this time and no hug either.
“Hi.” I prepared myself to exchange how are yous and small talk when he replied, “Your text message was ominous.”
“Was it?” I pulled out my phone to check what I had sent him.
Edwin: we need to talk.
“I didn’t mean for it to be ominous,” I said.
Atticus looked at me. Each time I met him, he was a stranger for a few minutes until he warmed up. I needed to get him to warm up to me again while telling him I wasn’t interested in him.
“So, what did you want to discuss?” Atticus asked, picking up his cup and taking a sip.
“Okay. So.” I warmed my hands with my matcha latte. “I had a lot of fun on Friday, and it’s been really nice getting to know you,” I began.
His face shuttered. “But you don’t want to take this any further.”
“It’s not because of you!” I clarified.
He nodded once, gazing at me like a maths equation he’d just solved. “I understand.”
“You have to know that you’re extremely good-looking,” I said.
He looked down at his drink. “That’s kind of you to say,” he murmured.
“I’m not being kind. It’s the truth. When I first saw you, I had no idea how you were single. I figured you must’ve been secretly crazy or something. Honestly, you intimidate me, which is why I’m so awkward around you.”
“I don’t think you’re awkward.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Listen, Atticus. You could have anyone you wanted.” I widened my eyes. “Anyone.”
His face flickered with something — surprise, perhaps? — before his lips curled into a humourless smile. “So, is it my personality that’s lacking?”
“No, not at all!” I reached for his hand, but he stiffened, so I stopped myself. “I want to be friends with you, and Elena too.”
Atticus eyed me sceptically, but I had a feeling his frown was a shield to hide the rejection he must inevitably be feeling.
“Listen,” I said, shoulders slumping in defeat. “You were right, okay?”
He straightened, reminding me of a dog pricking his ears at the sound of food.
“I like Leo,” I admitted. “I like him more than I thought, and it wouldn’t be fair to date you when he’s the one I want.”
He was quiet for a long time. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “And I’m sorry for wasting your time, but I meant what I said. I genuinely did have fun hanging out with you.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate you telling me all of this in person instead of ghosting me.”
I frowned. “I’d never ghost you.”
Atticus gave me a small, sad smile.
“I am really sorry,” I said.
He shook his head and waved a hand. “Don’t apologise,” he said. “It’s easy to understand why you like Leo. He’s very charming.”
I smiled until I remembered Leo had left without saying goodbye.
“I meant what I said before. I want to stay friends.”
“We don’t have that much in common.”
Ouch. “Well…we’re both gay.”
Atticus gave me a dry look.
“We could exchange dating advice,” I tried.
His look became even dryer. “I don’t profess to be a dating expert, but I’m pretty sure rule number one of being gay is don’t fall for a straight man.”
“I know, I know, you sound just like my friend Rome.” I took a sip of matcha. “Although Leo might not be completely straight.”
“Well, that wouldn’t surprise me. The way he acted around you reminded me of a little kid with a crush.”
He’s smitten with you. I’d dismissed the notion because Leo said he was straight and because I thought he was that friendly to everyone. When he exchanged pinkie promises with Atticus, I’d learned I wasn’t special.
But maybe I was. At least for a night.
“Although,” Atticus continued, “if he did have a crush, you’d think he’d be more subtle about it.”
While Atticus seemed like the type who’d keep his feelings behind blank expressions and cold words, I doubted Leo had ever been subtle about anything in his life. I thought of his appearance on Friday night, of wavy hair and a tight black compression shirt. I thought of the way he attacked me with kisses. I thought of the noises he made when I touched him where no one else had ever touched him before.
I must’ve been lost in thought because Atticus tapped me very lightly on my wrist. “I do want to take you up on your offer,” he said. “Friends?”
I smiled, and this time, he let me squeeze his hand. He watched me do it with faint interest like I was showing him a special handshake.
“You’re not very touchy, are you?” I asked.
“No, not really,” he said. “Elena doesn’t like touching.”
“What about your other friends?” I asked.
He gave me a flat look.
What about your family? I thought, but didn’t ask.
“I don’t mind this, though,” he said, looking at our hands, then squeezed as he said, “I hope things work out with you and Leo.”
I mustered up a smile and squeezed back. “We’ll see.”