Chapter 11 #2
I dropped my hands with a defeated sigh. “It’s better than I expected. Like, way better. The things he can do with his mouth…” I trailed off, memories of our shower blow job flooding back. “It puts all my ex-girlfriends to shame.”
“That good, huh?” Sawyer looked impressed.
“I never thought I’d be into this stuff, but I’m starting to crave it.” The admission felt both terrifying and liberating. “Every time he touches me, my brain function degrades to the level of a concussed goldfish trying to solve a Rubik’s cube.”
Sawyer’s teasing expression softened, the mockery fading into genuine interest. “That’s really sweet, Ryker. If it makes you feel better, I’ve seen how Harley looks at you. It’s real for him, too.”
“Yeah, but that’s what scares me. What if I’m only experimenting and he’s all in? I don’t want to break his heart.”
“Have you told him how you feel?”
I looked down in embarrassment. “I can barely admit it to myself, let alone to him.”
“Maybe you should,” she suggested. “Harley’s a big boy. He knows what he’s getting into.”
“Does he?” I challenged. “Because I sure as hell don’t. Is this a weird phase, or have I been shoving this part of myself into a closet my whole life? What if I wake up tomorrow and decide I’m straight again?”
“Is that what you’re afraid of? That these feelings aren’t real?”
I considered her question. “No, I’m more afraid that they are real. Because if they are, does that make me bi? I’ve never thought about another guy like this. I don’t think I qualify.”
“Being bisexual doesn’t mean your interest in genders is a fifty-fifty split. Even if the only man you’re interested in is Harley, your bisexuality is still valid,” Sawyer explained. “Or maybe you don’t need a label.”
She was right. No one was handing out a pop quiz on my sexual identity. Maybe it was enough to know that whatever I felt for Harley was genuine, even if I couldn’t define it.
“What are you going to do?” Sawyer asked.
“Take it one day at a time, I guess. See what happens.”
“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I think you two are good together. Fake relationship or not.”
I managed a small smile. “Thanks.”
“And hey,” she added with the predatory glee of someone who just found ammunition for years of future teasing, “if he’s as talented as he is pretty, your brain will be too busy processing pleasure to remember how to overthink.
Or speak in complete sentences. Or walk straight. Or be straight, for that matter.”
I threw my hands up in frustration, flailing like a man drowning in his own confusion.
“What the hell am I supposed to do, Sawyer? This wasn’t part of the plan.
It was supposed to be all about bringing Harley home, pretending to date, dodging Mom’s matchmaking, and getting back to normal.
Now, everything’s…” I gestured wildly, unable to find the right words.
“That’s the beauty of it all. When your body’s screaming ‘yes,’ your brain usually shuts the hell up.
Trust me, good sex has cured more existential crises than therapy ever has.
” Sawyer’s expression turned thoughtful.
She leaned against the kitchen counter, studying me with her perceptive eyes that had always seen through my bullshit.
“What’s your heart telling you, Ryker? That’s the real question. ”
I snorted, crossing my arms. “I’m feeling things that aren’t even on the emotional menu. Like, I ordered the Straight Guy Special with a side of Just Bros Being Bros sauce for dipping and got served a Bisexual Epiphany with a dick amuse-bouche.”
Sawyer’s lips quirked in amusement. “So you’re saying you ordered the Feelings BLT—the Bromance Lust Transformation—and instead, you ended up with Schrodinger’s Sexuality, where you’re both straight and not straight until Harley comes inside you?”
I tried not to die of humiliation. “Something like that.”
The kitchen fell silent, punctuated by the distant sounds of the movie playing in the living room. I could hear Harley’s laughter, followed by Mom’s delighted response as a kaboom rattled the house, courtesy of the powerful subwoofers in their sound system.
Seconds stretched into a full minute as Sawyer waited for me to sort through the tangle of emotions I’d been avoiding.
“I want to see where it goes,” I finally admitted. Clearing my throat, I forced myself to continue. “With Harley. For real.”
The words hung in the air, terrifying in their naked honesty. I had never uttered them out loud before, barely allowed myself to entertain the thought.
“But what about Mom and Dad?” I continued, anxiety creeping into my voice.
“We told them we’ve been together for a while now.
It’ll be a disaster if I admit everything was fake.
” I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the ends in frustration.
“They’ll be disappointed or rightfully pissed that we lied to them. Or both.”
The possibility of hurting my parents made my stomach churn. For all their quirks and embarrassing moments, they had always been my biggest cheerleaders. The idea of betraying that trust nauseated me.
Sawyer placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Are you kidding? They’ll be over the moon that you’re dating Harley for real,” she said with unwavering certainty. “Mom’s been trying to set you two up for years. She won’t care about the deception when she’ll be too busy planning your wedding.”
“But—”
Sawyer cut me off. “Trust me, Mom will think it’s the most charming meet-cute ever.
‘Oh, my precious biscuit pretended to date the man of his dreams to avoid my matchmaking and then fell in love for real! How romantic!’” Her impression of our mother was spot-on, complete with dramatic hand gestures.
Despite my anxiety, I couldn’t help but chuckle. It sounded exactly like something Mom would say.
“I suspect setting you up on so many shitty dates is her trying to push you into Harley’s arms.”
My jaw dropped. “She wouldn’t!”
Sawyer squeezed my shoulder. “Besides, if I had to guess, Mom’s already figured it out, anyway.”
I blanched at the possibility. “What? How?”
Her expression told me how stupid she thought my question was. “Because she’s Mom. She notices everything, especially about her kids. And she’s been watching you two like a hawk since you arrived.”
All the awkward moments, the hesitations, the times I’d been caught staring at Harley with confusion written all over my face replayed in my mind. If Mom had picked up on those, then she likely would have figured out our charade.
But as my panic subsided, relief washed over me. If Sawyer was right, then the pressure of maintaining the lie was already gone. Mom knew, and she was still delighted about me and Harley.
“You really think she knows?” I asked.
“Oh, absolutely. And she’s clearly giddy about it. So stop worrying about disappointing her and start figuring out what you actually want.”
I pulled her into a tight hug, squeezing her as if I could somehow transfer my gratitude through sheer force. She let out a surprised squeak before hugging me back.
“Thanks,” I murmured into her hair. “You always know what to say.”
She rubbed my back as she returned the embrace. “That’s what big sisters are for.”
“For solving my sexual identity crisis while Mom and Dad watch shit explode in the next room?” I snorted, making her laugh. “Thanks. I’ve been spiraling over this for days, and you made it all seem less like a black hole of doom.”
Sawyer’s teasing glint softened into genuine warmth. She squeezed my arm. “I’m proud of you, you know that? It takes guts to embrace something that flips everything you thought you knew about yourself on its head. And if it helps, I think you and Harley are perfect together.”
The unexpected praise made my throat tighten. Sawyer and I didn’t indulge in emotional heart-to-hearts often, considering our relationship was built on a foundation of merciless teasing and sporadic acts of begrudging kindness. The vulnerability between us felt rare and precious.
“Thanks,” I managed. “That means a lot.”
Her lips quirked into a familiar smirk. “Though I’ve got to say, we’ve all been waiting for this. We even formed a support group called ‘Friends of Ryker’s Oblivious Bisexuality.’ We met on Wednesdays. There was a newsletter. We had merch, for god’s sake.”
And just like that, the sentimental moment shattered. I groaned and shoved her shoulder. “You did not,” I said through a laugh.
She snickered. “You sure about that?”
It was probably bad that my answer to her question was “Not really.” But I laughed despite myself. The tension that had been building inside me for days finally snapped, replaced by something lighter, almost buoyant.
“If you don’t believe me, I’ll send you our group’s mug later. Gia designed it. It’s a masterpiece.” Sawyer poured chips into a communal bowl for sharing. “Look, all I’m saying is don’t overthink this. You like him, he likes you a lot. Enjoy the ride and figure out the rest as you go.”
“That simple, huh?”
“That simple.” She picked up the bowl with the flair of a magician revealing their final trick. “And if you need a label, try ‘happy’ for now. The rest can wait.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe I didn’t need to have all the answers yet. Maybe I could relish the joy of rubbing my dick against Harley’s like we were trying to spark a campfire until we came.
“Come on.” Sawyer nudged me with her elbow. “Let’s get back before Mom sends a search party.”
“Hey, Sawyer?” I said as we headed to where our family waited.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for not making this weird.”
She snorted. “Oh, I’m still planning on making it weird later.”
When we returned, the movie was in the middle of an outrageous chase scene, complete with explosions and a hero clinging to a speeding car.
Mom was completely engrossed, gripping the edge of her seat, while Dad had his arm around her shoulders, looking amused at her intensity.
Gia was curled up against Sawyer’s spot on the loveseat, scrolling through her phone while occasionally glancing at the screen.
And then there was Harley.
He looked up as we entered, his eyes finding mine. Even in the dim glow of the TV, I could see the question lurking about why I had disappeared with Sawyer for far too long in the kitchen.
I settled into my spot next to him on the couch, our thighs almost touching. Sawyer plopped the chip bowl onto the coffee table before returning to her seat beside Gia, who curled into her side.
“Everything good?” Harley whispered, leaning in close enough that I could smell his familiar scent of patchouli and lavender that had become so comforting to me.
His eyes searched mine with genuine concern. That was the Harley who existed beneath all the flirtatious facade and sexual innuendos, the one who always sensed my emotional tornadoes and cared enough to check the forecast.
My emotional clusterfuck compass suddenly oriented itself, like a penis finally finding a hole after drunkenly bumping around in the dark and into thighs for ten minutes. North located. Ready to drill. Down to fuck.
“Yeah,” I replied, the word feeling more honest than anything I’d uttered all week. “Everything’s good.”
His eyebrows lifted, picking up on the sincerity in my voice. A question formed in his eyes, but he didn’t push.
I reached for Harley’s hand where it rested between us on the couch. I brushed against his knuckles before intertwining my fingers with his. Something unfurled within me that reassured me my heart hadn’t completely atrophied from years of emotional constipation.