Chapter 18
Cam
This weekend has been the best. Bo shovels frosted Cheerios into his mouth, as a comfortable silence shrouds the table, and I’m afraid to pop this delicate bubble we’re in.
I’m no closer to understanding anything than I was on Friday, and while I promised Bo a thinking-free weekend, it’s all I’ve actually thought about.
What I do know is that this weekend was insane.
I found out the magic of jerking off together.
Feeling him pressed against me as I busted a load all over his fist was absolutely magical.
He blew me three times over the weekend, and I didn’t even have to ask, in fact he insisted.
I have to say, my own blow-job skills have improved.
Or at least that’s what he’s told me. Last night I had him spread across this island, feasting on him until he came, and now everytime I look at it, that’s what I see.
I gaze at the white laminate in question. “Stop thinking about it. I need a break,” Bo mumbles into his Cheerios, a soft blush spreading across his lips.
“I will never look at this table and not see you spread-eagled on top of it.” Which is unfortunate, because our weekend is almost up and making Bo come might just be my new favorite pastime.
All of that’s amazing, but what feels better is how easy it all was. This is easy. As easy as breathing. I’ve never felt like this in a relationship.
But we’re not. Bo hasn’t even hinted that this is more.
In fact, he’s the one who just wanted a weekend.
Now that it’s Sunday, the tension in me is starting to seep in.
It’s like walking on eggshells. What do we do after this weekend?
Just go back to being friends without the sexy benefits? That sucks. I love the sexy benefits.
This is fun for now, but it’s not permanent, and I need to get that through my skull.
Siena’s words hurt, but they are reality.
As hot as this weekend was, as gorgeous as Bo looked between my thighs, it’s coming to an end.
He can do better. “Why are you thinking so loud?” Bo blinks at me. “No thinking, remember?”
“I’m pre-thinking. Thinking about all the things I’m going to be thinking about once I’m allowed to think again.” He nods, unimpressed by my freak out. “You want to come with me somewhere today?”
Bo’s eyes lift to me. I love the way his glasses make them look bigger.
It makes the skeptical tint to his eyes even bigger too.
He’s so fucking cute and it’s killing me.
I’m not sure what switch Bo flipped, but I can’t turn it back off.
I’ve always thought he was cute—I mean, look at him.
He’s tiny, has silky black hair, and big brown eyes that narrow on me when I do stupid shit.
And I do a lot of stupid shit. I love the way his mouth pinches when I irritate him and the way his eyes roll when I go off on one of my tangents.
Going back to being just friends is going to be hard, but it’s necessary. Or I’ll lose him. It’s that simple. Sex is easy and fun; it’s all the other shit I’m horrible at. “Where?”
“That family day at the gym is today. Sam’s trying to get new sign-ups. I don’t have to work today, but there’s food and games . . . things like that. I told her I’d stop by, just for a bit.” I smile. “Be my plus one?”
He rakes his fingers through his hair, and I watch the way the strands fall back into place. I remember my own fingers threading through it while he took me down his—
“Yeah, okay. That sounds like fun.”
Maybe by the end of today I’ll know what the hell I’m doing, because more and more I don’t want this to be just for the weekend.
What if it could be a bit more permanent?
“You better not throw up!” Bo says.
“My stomach.” Nausea rolls through me. Ugh, I hate it. Worst feeling ever!
“You can stop eating. You do know that?”
“But everything tastes good.”
Bo shakes his head, unimpressed with my whining. “You’re a mess.”
“It’s not my fault I got sick.” Bo stops short, glaring at me.
The gym is packed with people here for the event.
Most of the weights and the more dangerous equipment have been moved for safety.
Sam really wants to start hosting family fitness nights, and I love that she’s always trying to find ways to include more people.
And I’m glad today turned out better than she expected.
We’ve been wanting to expand for a while and raise money for new equipment.
“Not your fault?” He shakes his head. “So who decided to clear the dessert bar and then do a demonstration on the treadmill? Because that sure as shit wasn’t me, Cam. I can’t eat most of the things here. And unlike you, I have self control.”
I snort. “Tell that to weekend Bo. He had no self-control.” He pinches my stomach. “Mean! Besides, I’m pretty sure you’d collapse if you tried any of this equipment.” I beam at him, earning me a scowl.
“Cam.” My head lifts to see Sam walking up to me, a bright smile on her face. “Thank you so much for coming today. I can’t believe how many people showed up.” She looks down at Bo. “Hey, Bowen.”
“Hey. This is amazing. It seems like everyone’s having fun.”
“Are you getting a membership?”
“Oh uh, no. I’m more of a stationary type of person. Cam exercises enough for the both of us.”
She laughs. “You two are so cute. I’m glad you’re having fun.” She squeezes my arm. “I don’t know what I’d do without him,” she says to Bo. “He's incredible with our clients."
“That’s because he’s good with people.” Bo looks at me, and the softness in his expression makes my stomach dip.
Maybe . . . just maybe . . .
Why do I have the urge to lean down and kiss him. “Well, I better get back to it. I have one more dance class to run before I can collapse. There’s games in the back room, DIY face painting, and some crafts if the kids haven’t cleared them out by now.”
“Thanks, Sam. See you tomorrow.”
“You want to check it out?” Bo asks.
“Sure.”
We walk to the back room, which is normally reserved for dance workouts. It’s a large room with a giant mirror along the wall, that’s packed with families when we walk inside. There are games tables along the walls, and I grab Bo’s hand, leading him through the crowd.
My mind is still on this weekend, as much as I’m trying not to think about it.
I don’t want to ruin anything yet. I could explain away my feelings as me being horny, but I know they’re much deeper than that.
I just don’t know if the feelings I’m having are confused because the sex is so good and he’s my best friend.
I’ve always loved Bo, but this feeling is so new it’s scaring me.
I felt nothing like this with Max. And there’s something else I’m afraid to admit.
I never felt like this with any of my exes either.
This feeling is exclusive to Bo, and I don’t know what to call it or do about it. Do all friends with benefits feel this way? Is that why they do it? I’ve heard some horror stories, though, and that’s the last thing I want.
Bowen sits at a table with face paints. “You want me to paint your face?” I ask him as he looks around the room, and I already know what’s wrong.
“Too loud?” It is a lot inside this busy room.
I look at the bin of paint crayons. There are a few on the table as well, so I grab a small handful and then take his hand, leading him out of the room to find the emergency exit and slip outside.
It’s unseasonably warm out right now—the fifties in December. “Thanks, sorry.”
“No worries. It’s a little suffocating in there.
” We find a bench on the sidewalk and he sits down.
“So, any requests?” While we’re here I pretend, just for a moment, that I’m here with Bo my boyfriend, and we’re together and happy.
I know it can’t happen like that. I’ll end up ruining it. I always do.
But what if I didn’t.
I don’t think I can take that risk. Plus, Bo hasn’t even hinted he wants more.
He’s just sharing orgasms with his best friend, because he’s attracted to guys.
That’s all. It’s just been fun. How the hell would I even make him happy long term?
I’ve been cheated on, used, and taken advantage of.
Clearly I’m not enough. I won’t make him happy in the long run.
“You’re pre-thinking too loud.” He glares. “Shut your thoughts off.”
“I am a philosopher, Bowen Carmichael Zhao.” His lips break out in a laugh. “I am a deep thinker. A scholar. I’m thinking about a lot of things.” I sit beside him with the palette in my lap.
“Oh yeah? And what are you deep-thinking about?”
The corner of my lip quirks. “How good you taste. Been thinking about that a lot. How hot you sound when you come. Any requests?” He looks down at my lap. “For what you want me to paint, pervert.”
“I don’t care.” His voice is soft, his eyes a bit wary. “Don’t draw a cock on me.”
“What about tits?”
“Cam—” I laugh. “No. Besides that, do whatever.”
An idea comes to mind. Grabbing the blue metallic paint crayon, I think about what I want to do.
“Hold still. Artist at work.” While I’m not the most artistic guy, this is simple enough, so I won’t fuck up his face.
I begin to draw, careful of his eyes. Bo shuts them and I can’t help but smile.
Have I always felt like this and just didn’t know it?
I’m not really sure. “Better not be a dick, Cam.” I laugh. “I mean it. I don’t want a dick on my face.”
“Not what you said last night.” One eye pops open. “Sorry. Just a joke.”
Closing his eyes again a soft smile spreads on his lips. “The only exception I’ll allow,” he says, and I laugh.
I take the silver crayon and watch the way it shimmers across his pale skin.
“Almost done, Bobo.” I think I feel him shiver under my fingertips as I cradle his face with one hand and draw with the other, and when I finish up, I set the paint crayons down and look at my masterpiece.
I take his chin between my fingers, inspecting my work.