Chapter 16
Sixteen
Baby
“Have you been crying?”
“Of course not,” I say as I push my way past Liam into his apartment. I’m glad he’s even here, honestly. I didn’t text him that I was coming, and it didn’t occur to me that he might still be at work until I was almost here.
“Why are you here?” Liam looks a bit tormented as he says it because he’s dramatic like that.
“Don’t act like you didn’t miss me.” I sniffle and hope he ignores it.
“I saw you like three hours ago.”
“That’s practically a lifetime of missing out on my beauty, Liam. Just think of all the poor saps who aren’t as blessed as you, and try to be a little more grateful.”
“Look, Bash knows about the stupid cutout, so—”
“Oh my god, who cares?” I have to stop myself from copping too much attitude in someone else’s home, but really. There’s no need to be so full of himself. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Oh.”
“This place looks like a thrift store threw up all over it.” I can definitely tell that Liam has decorated.
When we were moving him in here, there was nothing hanging up—bare white walls paired with black furniture.
Now there are fake plants all over and a hideous rug that nothing else in the room matches. “And your rat is ugly.”
“Don’t be mean to her.” He bends down to scoop his dog up, stopping her from scratching at my leg. “At least Panini is happy to see you.”
Aw. “Well, now I feel bad.” I reach out to pet her, but she nips at my fingers, and that pretty much kills all my sympathy. “Bitch,” I mutter, looking at my hand to see if there’s a mark.
“That’s rich coming from you.”
I ignore that. “Where’s Sebastian?”
“Still at work.”
I roll my eyes at the disappointment in his voice. “I’m surprised either of you has a job. I was under the impression that you’d wither away and die without him smothering you with attention.”
He rolls his eyes, but I know he gets what I mean. They’re so in love it’s awful.
“But I guess that’s what all the toys are for, huh?”
He shoots me a forced glare but is too abashed to bother with a comeback. When he sits down on his couch, his dog escapes his arms and hops back over to my feet. “What do you want?”
That’s a pretty good question. It was mostly impulse that pushed me here, and now that I’ve had some time to calm down a bit, I’m not sure what to say. He asked if I’d been crying, and I’m disgusted that the answer is yes. Sobbing in fact. I don’t even know why.
I had sex with Logan Matthews. He pulled a dildo out of my ass and then took its place—a scenario that simply imagining is the whole reason I even had the dildo in the first place—and instead of thanking the universe, I cried about it.
Going over it again, remembering that I was horny enough to let Logan see me almost completely naked, has me wanting to cry all over again.
“Baby,” Liam interrupts my mental ramblings after a few seconds, and I welcome the distraction. “What do you want?” he repeats himself, but I don’t know how to explain it all.
“I… fucked a straight guy and now I’m on the verge of fully losing my mind.”
He has no clue what to say in response to that. To be fair to him, I could have worded it better. Saying nothing probably would have been better than saying that.
“Okay?”
“Okay?” I’m not being totally fair, but that’s it? “It is not okay, Liam!” We were never super close, but I sort of expected more than a measly okay.
“Oka—damn, Baby!” He rubs at his chest where my keys hit him. “What do you want me to say?”
“Ugh!” I throw my hands in the air, which helps absolutely nothing.
“I don’t know.” I have to step carefully to avoid tripping over Panini as I move to the couch.
“I really don’t.” I take a seat next to him, certain that the added sorrow I hear in my voice is all Logan’s fault.
Couches are our thing. Sitting on one that isn’t ours makes me miss him.
I saw him not even thirty minutes ago and miss him. It’s not all Logan’s fault. I definitely set myself up for this. I had to have known I was gonna end up here.
Maybe not here, in Liam’s apartment, but the feelings that very much have me wanting to say ow, yeah. I saw this coming.
“Who was it?”
I look at Liam and frown. I didn’t show up to tell my favorite dildo salesman that I prefer Logan’s dick to the toy he picked out for me—that’s a given. I’m here because I let Logan slide home, and now I have no clue what anything means.
I need actual help.
“Did you freak out after your first time with Sebastian?”
“Sort of.”
My frown deepens. That is not what I wanted him to say.
“It was my first… he was the first.” He leaves it at that, getting endearingly shy like I didn’t already know that.
I don’t know how Liam functions, getting so self-conscious all the time.
I suffer a lot of it myself—humiliation—but he’s so theatrical about it.
“Honestly, I probably would have been fine if Bash hadn’t been such an asshole afterwards. ”
“What do you mean?”
“He basically kicked me out.” He huffs a laugh, but I don’t see the amusement. He’s telling me that’s why he freaked out, and I did that very thing to Logan. “I didn’t even have time to get dressed before he was telling me to fuck off.”
“He did not say that.” If he did, I’m kind of embarrassed for Liam—why would anyone put up with that? I wasn’t that mean to Logan.
“Might as well have. He even fired me as his client. Like immediately afterward.”
Knowing Sebastian—the little bit that I do—I can see him doing that.
They met at the gym and got to know each other after Liam hired him as a personal trainer, and Liam got dick-whipped before he even got a taste of it.
Sebastian doesn’t seem like the kind to handle someone having a crush on him very well.
They don’t make a whole lot of sense as a couple. It’s kind of annoying that they work so well. Even more annoying that it’s cute.
“Does any of that info help?”
“No.” I know I’m not supposed to think someone who is nice enough to attempt to help me is about twelve cans short of a six pack, but damn.
“Dude, I don’t know what you want from me.”
“So,” I continue, like he didn’t needlessly cut in. “If your beefed-up boyfriend hadn’t been all… himself, I guess, would that have made it better?”
“He could have been nicer about it, yeah.”
“If he’d told you to leave nicely, it would have been better?
” I try to relax my face after using such an exaggerated tone, but it’s difficult.
I’m so desperate for him to say a simple yes, and he’s not giving me that.
I just want to make sure that I didn’t royally ruin Logan’s first dip into the pool of gay sex by letting my insecurities get the best of me.
“I don’t know. I’m not—I should not be the person you’re coming to for this.”
He’s wrong. He’s the only one I can go to with this. Cade knows too much. “I’m just trying to understand—did you have regrets? If you did, isn’t it better that he told you to leave—you wouldn’t have wanted him to see you have some gay panic, right?”
That wouldn’t be fair. I know that I didn’t want to be there when Logan realized he regretted what we did—I didn’t want to be anywhere near him, actually. It’s what drove me here. I told him to take a shower, then bolted as soon as he left my room.
My stomach twists as I wonder if that makes me as bad as Sebastian.
“I didn’t really freak out. I was a little confused, but mostly I was disappointed that the one guy I wanted didn’t seem to want me.”
I can relate to that. It hurts wanting someone who couldn’t possibly want you.
But… if I’m the one kicking him out after sex, maybe he—
It doesn’t even feel right to finish the thought. There’s no way he does. Only, if he didn’t, why would he do… what he did?
I think I might be stupid.
“Who’s the guy?” Liam asks again.
I look at him like he’s crazy. This is all so confusing as is, and he’s making it worse. “That’s none of your business.”
“Then why are you here? Go away.”
“You…” I can’t tell him to go away. This is his apartment that I showed up to unannounced. “Fine. I will go. Cade should be home soon, and I’m sure he’ll want to see that picture I took earlier.”
∞∞∞
My hand freezes before it makes any noise. I have never knocked on Logan’s door before, so it feels weird to be doing it now. Half the time, he simply walks right on into mine. That bad habit of his is how he ended up with his dick in my ass earlier.
Kind of makes all my house rules seem—the tiniest bit—pointless now. If ignoring them ends up with us fucking, rules be damned.
I open his door before I lose the courage do so, and there he is. Asleep. I had no right to, but I assumed he’d be waiting for me—maybe stressing over my whole Houdini act. This makes more sense, though. He works a lot. Why would he care that I left—he was probably relieved.
I hope not. Maybe he was just really tired. Twelve-hour shifts of manual labor, that seems like it’d be tiring.
Plus, there’s me. The back and forth is fucking exhausting on my end, so I can imagine it’s more so for him. I don’t know why he puts up with me. Truly. He gets nothing out of it.
I got mad at him because he didn’t sit by me, and then asked to suck his dick immediately afterwards. Sat on said dick and then told him to get out before it had the time to soften.
There’s more. A lot more, and going over all of it has my stomach rolling. I wish I weren’t like this, but it’s impossible to fight. I act beyond ungrateful—he gives me attention and affection, and I do everything I can to make it seem like I don’t want any of it.
Sex with Logan was pretty much the only thing on my bucket list, but I never considered what would happen afterwards.
And really, I don’t think I ever wanted just sex. It was good, but all I wanted afterwards was for him to hold me. Kiss me.
I was too scared to let him. Terrified even.
There were so many questions, and for some reason, the only answers I could conjure up were ugly.
The first time Zeke kissed me led to a week of him avoiding me.
The first time he even hinted at wanting me to blow him was worse.
He saw me naked and laughed—and that was after he begged for it.
Logan was cool with everything we’ve done so far, but this was more than anything I did with Zeke.
I want Logan to love me.
I can’t help that I’m so scared that I’m making it impossible for him to even try.
Imagining Logan realizing he’d finally let it go too far left me nervous. I could only see it ending with me being blamed.
I blame myself.
Despite the mental war raging in my head, I take a step closer to him.
He must’ve been tired—he didn’t even bother to cover himself up or turn off the little lamp on his bedside table.
He’s sprawled over his unmade bed, lying on nothing but a flat sheet and one measly pillow.
His phone is on his stomach, something that tells me he’s been lying perfectly still since he passed out.
I should have texted him back when he’d asked where I went. I hardly ever text him back.
God, I’m such a bitch.
He wants me to believe his words and actions, and I really have to start trying to do just that.
I was worried he was going to have some denial-fueled hysteria after coming, but knowing Logan—and I’m pretty sure I do at this point—he probably just wanted to do something stupidly sappy. Like, hold me.
I look at him in his nearly naked state—a simple pair of boxers being the only thing he’s wearing—and honestly can’t believe I denied either of us that.
That constant barrage of why is ruining my life, but fuck.
Why? If I weren’t such an otherwise perfect person—general shitty-ness aside—I’m pretty sure I’d hate myself.
I don’t deserve it, but I can’t stop myself from closing the gap between us. I’m careful as I climb into bed next to him. As selfish as I am, I don’t touch him.
For about ten seconds anyway. I lay on the side I’ve chosen to believe was left free for me and make sure to leave some room, but my fingers have a mind of their own.
The very least I can do is keep the touch light.
So light, in fact, it’s almost like I’m not a total pervert who got into my sleeping roommate’s bed right next to him without permission to do so.
And it’s just his wrist. That’s not too bad.
There’s a mark on his thigh, a purple bruise just barely peeking out beneath the bottom of his boxers, and I obviously have to touch that. It’s mine. I have to scoot closer so I can reach it.
When I made the mark, I didn’t notice the hair or how pale his skin is here.
I did notice how delicious he smelled, though.
Hiding under the scent of his bodywash was my new favorite scent—and I don’t even know how to describe it.
Just Logan. I’m pretty sure I only bit him then to avoid pressing my nose against his balls—because for whatever reason, sucking them is fine, but taking a whiff is a step too far.
It was little things like that that would drag Zeke out of whatever intimate moment we were in. Sometimes he did hate it—whatever it is I was doing—but most of the time I think he got mad that he liked it.
Confused people are confusing.
Logan’s fingers wrap around my wrist, and I know I’m busted. He could kick me out—it’d be payback that I’ve certainly earned—but I know he won’t.
“Where’d you go?” The sound of his sleep-roughened voice has me scooting closer, and I could cry when he rolls to meet me halfway. His arm slinks its way around me, and it’s so cozy that I don’t even think of answering him.
I worried for nothing. It was me who panicked, and it’s hard to remember why I did right now.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say.
The last time I apologized to him, he said I didn’t need to—that’s clearly not the case now. This time, he lets it hang in the air, decidedly not letting me off the hook. That’s okay. Sort of. I mean, I deserve it—the suffering—but at least he’s still touching me.
He’ll forgive me later. Hopefully.