Chapter 15 Ian
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IAN
I’m not an asshole, and I don’t want to be one, so I have to stay calm.
But holy shit, Callum is gay.
Just like that, the last major reason for me to suppress my stubborn feelings for him dissolves. The flimsy little dam splinters, allowing a steady stream of affection to pour through. Knowing me, that stream is gonna turn into a flood at any second.
The street is almost silent, the air punctuated by wind in the trees and Callum's heavy, nervous breathing. He’s gripping his left arm with his right hand, his knuckles pale, and he’s pressed his lips together, not saying a word.
Jesus. I can't even imagine what it must have been like for him to grow up gay in the family he had. There’s no way his parents would be chill with him being gay, while also being weird about sex.
I can't even imagine how hard it must have been for him to say those two words to me. Has he even told anyone else? I might be the first.
I need to handle this right, and I can't get excited about him possibly, potentially, hopefully having the ability to also like me.
“That’s cool, man,” I say. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”
Could I have come up with an even more generic coming-out response?
Probably not. Generic is fine for now—anything more personal or creative might end up with me losing every last scrap of my self-control and asking Callum to please, please feel me up again, because the first time was unforgettable.
Again, I’m trying not to be an asshole.
“Are you feeling okay?” I ask, and Callum gives me a stiff nod. “Was that the first time you told someone?”
“Nah. I told my therapist and Laura.”
Offering a smile, I let out a silent breath in relief—he’s getting professional help. That doesn’t happen often enough.
“That’s great,” I say. “I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to open up to me.”
Platitudes, genuine as they might be, are all I have. And now I’m out of those, too. We’ve fallen back into silence, the street’s deserted, and we’re simply…standing here.
Oh, god, I want to kiss him. He’s got such pretty, tempting lips.
Fuck, I can’t. That’d be such a dick move. He just came out to me.
He’s right there. He likes guys. I don’t know if he likes me. We’re so different. He’s calm and quiet, and I’m an overly intense ball of unwelcome affection. We can’t—
“We can’t stay here for much longer,” I murmur. “It’s a little cold.” Breaking the unspoken intensity between us is an act of protection. Letting myself fall into liking Callum, when he lives with me out of necessity, would be plain wrong. “Can we head back home?”
He peers off into the distance, twisting his mouth up in a way that says he’s clearly conflicted about something, and I can’t imagine what that might be.
“There’s something else,” he says, cutting my thoughts off. “I need to tell you before I can go back.”
Ominous, much? I shove my hands into my pockets. “For sure. I’m here for you.”
He shuts his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. “Please don't hate me.”
His voice is barely audible, but those words still hit me. How could I ever hate someone like him?
“Callum, I won't be mad. There's no way you could do anything that would make me angry, I promise.”
Okay, if he secretly peeked through the bathroom keyhole and watched me take a dump or something, I'd be a little disturbed, but I'm almost certain he hasn't done that.
That’s weird. Why did I think that?
Stupid intrusive thoughts.
He purses his lips and lets out a long sigh, which makes my nerves ratchet up a little more. “I…” He sighs again. “I started liking you.”
What—
My heart stops.
Callum likes me back.
Callum.
He’s sweet and hot and amazing and he likes me back.
And he was afraid I’d hate him because of that?
“Hey.” I reach up and put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him and to steady myself. “Buddy. Do you know how hard it was to avoid crushing on you?”
He manages to be even more silent than before. He stands there, head tilted, lips parted, and seemingly dumbfounded.
“Do you have anything to say about that?” I prod.
“You'd have a crush on me?”
I bark out a dry laugh, unease sinking in my gut as I fight the fading voice of self-preservation in my head. “Dude, I'm way past the point of ‘would.’ Now that I know you’re also into guys, there’s nothing stopping me.”
He furrows his eyebrows. “But you're…you.”
I scoff. “And you're you.” Okay, I think he's genuinely confused, but I can't wrap my head around how Callum has the self-esteem of a pinecone. “Like, are you fishing for compliments or something? If you are, then you can drop the act because I compliment people I'm into so much that it's weird.”
“I'm not.” He nudges a rock with his boot, stopping short of kicking it. “I’ve only been here for two months, and I’m still so far from fitting in. I’m still the weird transfer kid from the Midwest who doesn’t know how to talk.”
Jesus fuck. He was so nervous about this before, and to hear that he’s still feeling down about being new? I think my heart splinters for him. No, scratch that. It shatters.
“You aren’t weird. Seriously, you’re the furthest thing from it.”
“Then why does everyone else on this campus give me weird looks all the time?”
Wait. “What kind of weird looks?”
Callum shuts his eyes and sucks in a breath. “I don’t know, like, I walk to class, and I catch people judging me.”
“What makes you think they’re judging? Everyone’s probably—”
“Sometimes they’ll laugh with their friends after I notice them.”
No. Oh my god. This poor, sweet man thinks people are judging when they’re actually eye-fucking him.
“Callum, nobody is judging you,” I say, giving his shoulder a firm grip. “They’re checking you out because you’re hot as sin.”
His head jerks up, and he furrows his eyebrows.
Okay, maybe telling a guy with probable religious trauma that he’s “hot as sin” isn’t the best idea, even if it’s true.
Still, I shouldn't be annoyed, and I'm not annoyed at Callum, rather, the thought of him feeling less than stellar about himself makes me want to beat up whoever made him think that.
His voice catches in his throat. “I’m…what?”
Really? Time to ramp it up.
“You’re hot, Callum. You're so fucking hot. You’re the kind of guy who makes people lose focus in class and walk into lampposts.”
He stays silent, those full lips slightly parted, so I continue.
“And it’s not just how you look. You’re the gentlest, sweetest guy I’ve ever met. You listen. You care. You don’t judge me for being chaotic and loud and stupid. You’re so kind, almost to a fault, and—”
He makes some kind of groaning noise, covering his face with his gloved hands, and I immediately reach up to spread them apart.
“Hey, nope. Nope, nope, not having it. None of that hiding, Cal,” I tease. “You gotta take it in. You need to hear how awesome of a person you are—”
“Stop,” he says, a strained smile playing across his lips. Callum tilts his head up, maybe to hide his expression, but all that does is make the blush creeping up his neck all the more obvious.
“Why? Is it because you aren’t used to hearing people say nice things about you?”
No response.
“Come on,” I drawl. “What’s the harm in getting a few compliments from a guy who’s really into you?”
That manages to make him relax, and he returns his gaze to me. “It’s, I don’t know, almost too good to be true.”
I bark out a chuckle that's part surprise, part disbelief. “That’s not a reason for me to stop, is it?”
He shakes his head. It’s so subtle, it’s barely perceptible. “I guess not.”
“So believe me when I say I like you back. And if you can’t, I’ll make you.” I press my hands together. “How much did you have to drink tonight?”
Callum raises his eyebrows, probably a little confused at the subject change. “Uh, like four? And my last one was that awful concoction.”
I grin, thinking back to Callum forcing down the King’s Cup. He’s had more than me, though not by much, and he’s bigger.
“I’m not drunk or anything, if that’s what you’re asking,” he adds.
Awesome. I can spill my feelings for his sake, and he won’t do something drunken that he ends up regretting.
“Look, I'll spell it out for you,” I continue, gazing into his confused eyes. “I want you. You’re the whole package of everything I fucking crave. Fuck, I want to kiss you so goddamn bad, and if you want it too, just come and take it. I want to feel your hands on my face”—and your cock in my mouth—“and your tongue in my mouth, and—”
Callum cuts me off with a strangled noise from his throat. He parts his lips in the silence, sucking in a breath.
Then he swoops down and crashes his lips onto mine.
Callum is kissing me.
Holy shit, Callum is kissing me.
My watch beeps with an elevated heartbeat alert, and I don't give a flying fuck. Callum is kissing me.
He tastes like orange soda and man. It’s gentle.
My god, it’s so tender and tentative, but he may as well be shoving his tongue down my throat because my body reacts all the same, sending desire shooting south and making my dick stiffen.
My synapses fire as I groan into his soft mouth, and when we pull back, I already want to dive back in for more.
He’s blinking, almost like he can’t believe what we did. His tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip, and I swear it’s the most sensual thing I’ve ever seen.
“Any thoughts?” I prod.
“Holy shit,” he says. “That was amazing.”
A cute smile spread across his face, making my heart go all soft.
Callum twists his hands together. “Can we please do that again? Only if you want to, though. I probably sucked.”
My mouth falls open. “You didn’t suck.” I scoff. “You were awesome. Kiss me whenever the hell you want—”
He cuts me off by doing exactly that, and the pleasant, burning surprise makes me gasp. He’s still being restrained, but there’s a heated desperation behind every swipe of his tongue along mine and in every heavy sigh that he breathes out.