Chapter 3 #2
“I used to like him.” It’s annoying how hard it is to simply say it. Part of me doesn’t want to mention it just because I don’t want him thinking of me with anyone else—which is fucked. He has claw marks on his back. He doesn’t care about any of the guys I’ve ever hooked up with. “We had a thing.”
He hums quietly, a simple acknowledgement that further proves how little he cares that I even have an ex.
“Yup.” I cross my arms, trying to keep my unnecessary attitude in check. “He was the first guy I dated, actually. First dick I—”
“Ew, that’s—no. I don’t need details.”
I grit my teeth. I wouldn’t normally offer them so freely, but I’m in a mood. “You’re the one who brought it up.”
He shuffles in his seat, turning until he’s got all of his attention on me in a way that I can feel.
Towards him or away. It’s not until he moves a little closer that I finally make a choice—the smart one—and lean away.
I move until my hip is pressed against the arm of the couch, and then I settle against it, as far from him as possible without leaving the space altogether.
“You’ve never mentioned him.”
“Well.” I shrug. “It’s a good thing that I didn’t. Wouldn’t want to gross you out with all the gay sex talk.”
“What—that’s not…” He trails off, clearly unable to conjure up a convincing lie.
I huff. “Whatever.”
“I don’t care that you’re gay, Baby. You know that.”
I obviously don’t, but no point in telling him that.
“I wouldn’t want details of your sex life if you were into girls either.”
I stay silent. This is something I agree with. No part of me wants to know—hear or ever see again—any of his hookups. But my excuse is jealousy. I can’t imagine what his reasons are.
“Then no more girls here.”
It’s his turn to stay silent. He’s probably thinking of all the things I’m not saying out loud—maybe not all of them, but some. Hopefully, he sees how hypocritical he’s being after what I walked into.
“Ok,” he says after a while. “What about you—were there ever any girls?”
I look at him like he’s stupid. “Do you have a wad of chewed-up bubblegum where your brain should be?”
He rolls his eyes, finally unable to ignore my attitude.
“No, really,” I cut him off when his mouth opens. “How is it that someone could be so mind-numbingly dumb, huh?”
He goes quiet once again, and my unreasonable self takes that personally.
“What? Is your single brain cell struggling to think of a comeback?”
“Baby,” he starts, and the sound of his calm voice prepares me for a cutting remark. “I’m really sorry.”
That’s definitely not what I expected him to say.
“I wouldn’t have brought her here if I’d known you were coming home.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I’m a little embarrassed now. It sucks some of that anger that had my blood simmering right out.
“That’s why you’re so mad, right?”
“No,” I lie, voice small.
“Either way, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“I don’t care who you sleep with. Do whoever you want, Logan, just… not here.”
“Okay.”
My brows dip at his compliance. He shouldn’t be so willing to accept that—and I have no right to demand it.
He shrugs at my confusion. “That’s fair—no girls allowed.”
He’s wrong, that is not at all fair, but I like the sound of it too much to say otherwise.
He smiles. “You can add it to the list of rules I’ve got on my wall.”
I grit my teeth. If he thinks I won’t, he’s wrong.
“Anything else I can do to make it up to you?”
I sigh. I can definitely think of a few things that would make me feel better. But it would be breaking the one singular rule I have solely for myself: Logan Matthews is off-limits.
“I’m sorry, Logan. That’s—I don’t think you’re dumb.”
He snorts.
”I don’t! I think you’re a very intelligent guy, who… sometimes does dumb things.”
”Yeah.” He chuckles again. “I can’t really argue with that.”
That makes me feel awful. I mean, some of things he does are kinda wild. But that’s only because of how obsessed I am with him. He could definitely follow the rules a bit more. “But I’m not mad.” Anymore.
“You can bite me,” he says, completely ignoring my lie.
I scoff. “I don’t bite you, Logan.” I don’t. Never have, never will.
“Yeah, why is that?”
I tilt my head, more confusion keeping me silent until my brain can catch up. It’s an odd question, but he’s asking because I do tend to bite. Everyone. Well, everyone but him, but that’s for my own sanity—because I like him too much. Not that I’d ever tell him that.
“Because you sweat too much.” That’s partly true, but I don’t mind it. Sometimes it makes me want to skip biting him and go right to licking him. “And,” I add, trying to move on before my thoughts get too horny. “You’re ugly.”
He laughs—cocky fucker just laughs because he knows it’s not true.
“You are,” I insist. “Hideous. And blonde. Nobody likes blonde guys.” Except me. I actually really like his hair. It’s got a nice length to it, something with enough give to tug on while I rode his dick. Or something.
“You’re full of shit, but fine. Don’t bite me.”
“I wasn’t gonna.”
“Okay.” He grins crookedly, making it that much harder to deny the urge to chomp on him. Such an asshole. And so conceited. I should bite him. “Was it a bad breakup?” he asks, changing the topic so abruptly that my brain stalls.
“What?”
“Audrey’s brother.”
Oh. “We didn’t date,” I tell him with a lot less snark. His near-acknowledgment of my irrational jealousy was a bit humbling. I can’t keep on being a bitch when he’s so forgiving. “Not really.”
“I don’t get it.”
I let out a mirthless laugh. “Sometimes people fuck around just for fun, Logan. Pretty sure you do get that.” At least, I hope he does. I don’t know what I’d do if Liz wasn’t just a hookup. If she became his girlfriend, I’d probably move.
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t get why you’re avoiding him.”
“He… sucks. I was the only out gay kid in my whole school.” I’ve told him this before, but I left out a lot.
“My whole entire private religious school filled with snobby rich kids who spent Sundays praying for my family and our souls. I got picked on a lot, mostly by his friends. Dating him wasn’t an option. Plus, according to him, he’s straight.”
“Oh.”
“Yup.” It’s annoying that I still feel a little shame at the whole situation. It makes me feel like a fraud. I used to do everything I could to try to fit in, and when it came to Zeke, it was never enough. He’s part of the reason I’m so loud about who I am now.
It’s unfortunate that he gets any of the credit for it, but who I am now only exists because of Zeke.
I would never put myself in a situation like that—not again.
I understand how taboo sexuality can be for people.
I get it. Coming out for me wasn’t a thing.
I simply am who I am, and that’s how it’s always been—hiding it wasn’t an option.
People were calling me gay before I even fully understood what it meant.
It’s not like that for everyone. Definitely not for people like Zeke, for boys with dads who think the best way to bond with their sons is to pass on their toxic masculinity.
Fooling around with someone like him was my only option then, but I learned my lesson.
“So, he messed around with you in private and let his buddies pick on you in public?”
I blow out a breath. It feels like an understatement, but that’s really all it was.
I was such a loser. “Pretty much.” It feels a little like trauma, like this awful thing that made my childhood suck, but it’s not like I was beaten up every day.
I know it could have been worse. At least I had Audrey and my moms. And it was years ago. I should be over it.
“What a pussy.”
I stare at him for a full second in shock until a laugh bubbles out of my chest. It’s true.
Zeke was a coward. But also… “You don’t really get to judge, straight boy.
You don’t know what it’s like, coming out.
You could lose everyone just like that, people who are supposed to love you.
” And knowing Zeke’s family and friends, he could have. Everyone except Audrey.
“Still. Staying in the closet doesn’t mean he had to let his friends bully you.”
I have no response to that one. Logan’s right.
“I don’t understand, I guess. I mean, I know it’s safer for some to hide like that, but I can’t imagine doing it.”
Once again, I have to agree with him. He really doesn’t get it—how could he?
“Maybe he is straight.” I shrug. “He sure said it enough.”
Zeke said it a lot more than someone who actually is would, honestly.
“It doesn’t really matter. If I go to the wedding and see him there, he’ll…” I shrug, letting the sentence die there.
Zeke is pushy. Always was, and the few instances I was forced to see him after high school, he still came on strong. Being in the same room with him always ends up biting me in the ass. But I shouldn’t be talking about this—especially not with Logan.
He makes it easy to overshare. He listens to what I say, acts like he’s hanging on to every single word.
I like talking to him when we’re alone like this, and I don’t have to worry about someone catching me drool all over him.
It’s the only reason I’m saying all of this—and kind of blowing Zeke’s cover.
I know that outing people isn’t cool, but this is my story too. And it’s not like Logan is ever going to meet any of these people.
“You deserve better,” he says, surprising me once again with the weight he adds to the words. But now he’s the one not looking my way. “You could bring a date.”
I scoff, a little relieved that the moment has passed. “Sure, Logan. I’ll do that.” It’s not a secret that I don’t date all that much. Or ever.
Not that I couldn’t. In fact, I very much could.
I go to Class or a few other gay clubs almost weekly, and I certainly get attention.
That’s the whole reason I go, actually. I can have a dozen guys wrapped around my finger with no real effort, but I never follow through with them.
It’s like I freeze. I can be flirting with someone all night, at ease and happy for the attention, but as soon as they make a real move, I dip. I have to.
It’s too hard to entertain them when I’m focusing on the straight boy I’ve got at home.
“You should. Send a message—let him see that you’ve moved on. And whoever you’re with could keep him from bothering you.”
“I somehow doubt that.” The last time I saw Zeke was when Audrey dragged me along.
I was there as a fifth wheel with Audrey and her boyfriend, and Zeke was the one who had brought a date then.
Not even that had stopped him from walking me to my car and trying to kiss me.
I don’t think a boy on my arm would have stopped him either.
There’s a thoughtful silence looming between us until he ruins it. “I’d keep him from bothering you if I were there.”
I have to glare at that. “Sure you would.”
“I would.”
“Mmhm. Lots of straight guys go on—”
“He wouldn’t have to know that I was straight.”
Is he for real? “But you are.”
“So?” He sits up straight, hiking a leg up onto the couch so he can face me head-on.
“Logan—”
He grabs my wrist, tugging gently as he leans in. “It’s not a big deal. It could be fun, rubbing it in his face. Plus, I like weddings. Food, drinks, dancing—what’s not to like?”
I stare at his fingers as they stay wrapped around me and almost wish I could say yes. A date with Logan. It could be fun. I could hang out with him in front of people and not have to worry about looking like a sad boy crushing on his unobtainable roommate.
But it wouldn’t be real.
“That’s—you’re a doof.” I pull my hand out of his grasp to lightly push at his shoulder and focus on the couch, on all the space between us.
“I’m not bringing a fake date to a wedding.
I’m not that pathetic.” I peer up at him through my lashes, the closest I can get to actually looking at him as he mouths the words Westley, one of the swooniest leading males of the eighties, speaks on the screen.
“As you wish.”
I smile to try and cover the sadness that instils. It’s not really what I wish. If it were, he’d be asking me out for real. He’d really want to date me.
He wouldn’t be straight.