16. Malcolm
MALCOLM
R yan’s starting to give me a complex. I have enough esteem issues and self-doubt to power a rocket to Mars, but obviously I’m going about this wrong.
The problem is—I don’t know how else to say it.
If we do it his way—film the content and post it, who’s to say he won’t think up some other excuse.
If he doesn’t want this, I need to know so I can stop embarrassing the fuck out of myself.
He walks over to the beanbag, looming over me. “ I need to get it. Otherwise, you gotta go.”
My mouth immediately dries up, and my guts twist. I try to pivot off the topic I know he’s getting at. “You think I’m cheating on Kaylin. You want me to call her? You want to talk to her yourself?”
Ryan shakes his head. His eyes are boring into mine. “Do you love her?”
“Sure,” I say.
“Are you in love with her?”
I shrug.
His eyes narrow to dark slits. “Have you been with anyone besides Kaylin? ”
“You,” I say.
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
“Never?”
I shake my head. I’m not sure he believes me, but Kaylin is my entire sexual history.
Now, if he wants to know about the intimate and very well-maintained relationship I have with my collection of flesh lights, that might give him a different perspective, but it’s nothing I feel compelled to share.
Since Kaylin went to UCLA and not Stanford with me, I got used to taking care of myself.
No one at school ever sparked my interest more than she did, so it wasn’t that difficult to stay faithful.
Keeping up with my schoolwork was challenging enough.
But now that we’re on a break, I feel the need to make up for lost time. Since my recent gestalt, I’ve been wondering what I would have done with the break if Ryan weren’t around. Would I have started cruising the Castro looking for guys to try new things with? I think…maybe.
In all honesty, I’m not sure anyone but Ryan could have unlocked the door where I’ve kept this secret all these years, even from myself. But if he ditches me… I’m almost certain I won’t go straight back to dating women.
My need to get off is one thing—it’s gotta be at least twice a day.
My sex drive however—in terms of wanting to have sex with another person, had all but disappeared before Saturday night.
I thought it was my meds, which my doctor and I have changed and titrated over time, but clearly, those aren’t the issue.
I just don’t want Kaylin anymore. Not like that. Not like this .
Ryan is standing just out of reach, and I’m sure that’s on purpose.
“And you say wanting to be with guys is nothing new for you,” Ryan says, studying me.
“That’s not exactly what I said. ”
“You didn’t say much,” he doesn’t hesitate to remind me.
I tilt my head. “What do you need to hear?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know, or you don’t wanna say?” I ask.
He looks at the floor, kicking the toe of his shoe into the rug. Ooo…I got him. He doesn’t wanna say. Interesting.
“You know, I don’t really feel like talking either,” I tell him.
“You just want what? Me to take my shirt off?”
I grin. “To start.”
“What else?”
“Would you consider fucking me?”
His eyes meet mine sharply. His shock is obvious. “ Tonight? ”
I nod.
“I think that’s a terrible idea.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Because I don’t know what this is, Mal. It makes me nervous.”
“Oh.” He doesn’t seem nervous, so the words get my attention and help me understand that coming on so strong is likely what’s making him balk. But then I remember the way he apologized for his intensity yesterday like he didn’t want to scare me off.
Communication it is.
“Okay, let’s talk,” I say.
“And then we can make the content?”
“No, you’re right,” I acquiesce. “Let’s get that out of the way. Then we’ll talk. Deal?”
He looks relieved. “Deal.”
We spend some time clipping the videos we just made. He works from his bed, and I stay on the beanbag.
I post a clip to TikTok and add all the stickers and links to the full video that I upload to our Patreon.
After I’m done with that piece, I take off my shirt, grab Stephanie, and pull her onto the beanbag with me where we make a one minute and ten second video about starting small when you’re diving into entrepreneurship.
By the time I’m finished, Ryan’s getting comfortable, lying on his side on the bed with Bud stretched out in front of him, belly up.
He runs his fingers through the lazy cat’s fur while he stitches my video and talks about how risk is part of the reward of being your own boss.
He’s inspired me to want to risk something by the time he turns his phone face down on the bed. I mean—with him looking like that, it doesn’t take much.
He glances over at me. A long moment passes before he asks, “Do you want me to come over there, or do you want to come over here?”
I want to tell him I just want to come period, but I hold that in. “You look comfortable.” I go to the bed and lie down facing him. I prop my elbow on the pillow and rest my temple on my fist. He cradles his cheek in the crook of his arm and looks up at me.
“Can I use a metaphor?” I ask. “Is that gonna annoy you?”
“Depends. You can try,” he says.
“Okay, then I’m going for it.”
He nods.
I’m pretty sure this will make sense—if we were as close as we used to be, I know it would, but so much has happened.
Still, lying here like this makes it feel like we know each other better than we actually do.
“So let’s say there’s this room in my head.
It’s been there since I was little. I used to hang out there a lot.
I liked it there. It was interesting and exciting, and maybe a little scary, but in the good way. ”
He squints, trying to follow me.
“And then the light went out inside it, and I didn’t understand anything that went on in it anymore.
I couldn’t see the toys or whatever. I couldn’t play the games.
I was just fumbling around outside it because I wanted to be in there—I knew I liked it there, but it was hard to remember why. You with me?”
“More or less. Maybe.”
“And then—when you were sick that time, the door slammed shut. Lights out, locked out—caution tape everywhere.”
“Okay.”
“So, it was basically a crime scene. Like I didn’t belong in there, and I never had, and the room kicked me the fuck out, and I was basically supposed to forget it ever existed and pretend I never went there.”
Ryan’s squinting. “If this gets any more complicated, I’m gonna need you to move off the metaphor.”
I hold up a hand because I think I’m about to make it clear enough.
“When you pushed me into the wall, and I thought you were gonna kiss me Saturday night, the door flew back open. Monday night, the light came on. Tuesday night, I was back in the room, and it wasn’t scary anymore because I knew what everything was.
I remembered what brought me there in the first place. ”
“Which was?”
“You ask too many questions,” I say, looking down at the bedspread.
“Prepare yourself because I have another one,” he says. “How do you know it’s not gonna kick you out again?”
“Because I’m not a child anymore? Because repression only works until the memories resurface? Because I’m in control of my brain now? How do those reasons sound?”
“Plausible.”
I can sense he wants to ask me something, so I wait.
Then he comes out with it. “Were you hurt, Mal?”
“No,” I whisper. “Not like that. No. But if it’s okay, can we not go there? It’s got a lot to do with my mom, and I don’t want to…” I trail off, ignoring the flashbulbs going off in my head, illuminating the memories. The things I saw. The things I felt. The betrayal. The jealousy. The yearning.
Ryan’s hand on my arm makes it all stop. I’m back with him, in his bed, staring into his gorgeous eyes—the one part of him that hasn’t changed at all. “It’s okay,” he says.
“What about you?” I ask. “What are you not telling me?”
“I just don’t want you to turn on me again, and…” he hesitates. “That’s basically it.”
“You sure?”
He nods then says, “I don’t think I’m ready for sex.”
“Okay,” I say, hoping my disappointment doesn’t show.
“But if you insist on spending the night, who the fuck knows, right?”
A smile breaks on my face, so big it hurts my cheeks.
“Just remember I have a roommate,” he says as he moves to hover over me. I roll onto my back, listening to him talk and wishing he would just shut the fuck up and make out with me already. “And he’s shy and weird, so you have to control your noises.”
I don’t trust myself to make that promise, not when I’m about to need to undo my pants. I don’t know how he stands it in those jeans with that huge dick. Does he enjoy suffering? “Maybe put some music on?” I suggest.
His chest meets mine just before his mouth does.
I immediately wrap my legs around him and bring him crashing down on me.
I kiss him hard. My tongue too eager, my lips too aggressive, but I can’t help it.
He’s been edging me since I walked in the door, and now, shirtless—with our nipples touching, I can’t be expected to control myself, can I?
“Jesus, fuck, I want you,” I say as his teeth graze my jaw.
“I see that.”
“I want out of my pants. ”
“Of course you do.” He kisses me again and keeps me busy doing that for a few heated minutes, but I’m just gonna keep bringing it up.
He’s gotta breathe eventually. Christ, but I like this part, too.
He’s an unbelievable kisser. I hope I’m halfway decent at it, only ever having kissed the one person, but he’s not complaining or trying to force anything different out of me.
Although, I don’t kiss him the way I kiss Kaylin for a lot of reasons.
One, I haven’t wanted Kaylin this much since we first started dating. Second, Ryan is more of a force to reckon with. Third, he’s got a bigger mouth in general, so I have to work harder to fill it.