Chapter 04 FEN
Despite the sky’s ominous rumblings, the darkening clouds don’t immediately dump their load, and Sadie has Ollie and me lie down on the lawn, head-to-head, to snap a few shots during the reprieve. The grass prickles my bare arms and midriff, its scent vibrant under my cheek as I stare into Ollie’s cobalt eyes and replay his words in my head.
“I want to kiss you.”
It’s not that I have anything against kissing—not really—it’s that I’m more of a face-down-on-the-mattress-with-my-ass-in-the-air kind of guy. Or my mouth is busy doing other things. Even when I’m rocking my epic cowgirl, it’s less about eye contact and more about showing off. Kissing is extraneous. Kissing is…intimate.
And the way he said it—like it was the sum total of his wildest wet dream. Like kissing me would be enough. What would it be like to be kissed like that? Not as a rushed precursor to a rough fuck, but as an end in and of itself?
If it ever starts raining, I might find out, and I am way too fucking giddy about it.
What are the rules of this game we’re playing? Is it even a game at all? I’m used to guys wanting to peel me out of my clothes—and there’s some of that from Ollie—but there’s also something inexplicably like awe in the way he devours me with his gaze.
And the things that come out of his stupid, perfect mouth, all earnest and interested and unguarded. Like he wants to know me, and not just what I look like naked.
Danger, Robert Pattinson, or however the saying goes.
While I reevaluate my entire emotional ethos, Ollie tells me about his studies. He’s double majoring in anthropology and art history and plans to apply to the master’s program next year. He wants to do his thesis on Akkadian cylinder seals, whatever those are, confirming that he’s basically a genius and way, way out of my league.
But even as his voice grows animated and his hands paint lofty patterns against the sky, his eyes keep drifting to my mouth.
“So, you’re planning a lucrative future in academia?“
I tease when he winds down.
“Probably. Both my parents are high school teachers, and they’ve always wanted a professor in the family.“
His rueful sigh speaks volumes.
“Only child or firstborn son?”
“Firstborn. Barely. My brother’s only eleven months younger than me, but he went in a very different direction.”
The grass is starting to get itchy, and Sadie’s surely had her fill of this pose, so I prop myself up on one arm and peer down at him.
“Let me guess, he’s a long-haul trucker.”
He laughs, a husky, honeyed sound that rolls over me like a sunrise.
“Not even close.”
“He ran away with the circus?”
“Wow.“
Cocking his head, he blinks up at me. “Are you a psychic or something?”
“You’re not serious.”
“Totally serious. He’s out in California this year with a touring company. He’s the Chinese pole artist.”
“I have no idea what that is, but if it’s anything like pole dancing, I’m impressed. That shit takes some serious core strength.”
“You’ve done it?”
“I’ve taken a few classes. Gay dance major, remember? Pretty sure it’s required.”
Another laugh ripples out of him. “Ellis would love that. He’s gay too. Loudly, proudly, very gay.“
His fond smile fades into something complicated, and he looks away.
“And you’re only a little bit gay, so it doesn’t count?“
I ask. It’s not exactly a shot in the dark. Birth order psychology is practically culture core in the twenty-first century, and even as an only child, I’m an expert in fucked-up family dynamics. His eyes dart back to mine, probably as surprised as I am by the lack of sass in my tone.
Who is this sensitive Fen who sits on the lawn without worrying about grass stains and cares about the feelings of the boy he’s trying to fuck?
“That’s not—you don’t understand.“
He scrubs a hand over his face with another sigh. “Ellis has been my best friend my entire life. I told you how close we are in age. We shared a room, our clothes. Played on the same Little League team. I don’t remember a time when he wasn’t there. But…I was still the big brother. Always taller, faster—”
“Smarter?”
“More serious. Better at focusing. Adults loved me. I didn’t realize how much he felt like he was living in my shadow until we hit puberty and he stopped trying to catch up and sprinted off on his own path.“
Catching my hand, he twines his fingers through mine and tugs my hand to his chest. “Telling us he was gay was part of it. He came out so fiercely, standing in the living room one night in front of the TV, with his chin up and his cheeks blazing. You should have seen my poor parents.”
“Were they dicks about it?“
I know how lucky I am. I might have grown up in Hicksville, but both my parents are California liberals to the bone.
“No. Just clueless. But they tried their best, and they figured it out eventually. It probably helped that he’d always been kind of…overlooked as a child. No one had their expectations pinned to his achievements.”
Unlike you. But he doesn’t need me to say it, and after a quick shake of his head, he continues:
“Afterward, it was like he exploded out of himself—his clothes, the way he dressed, his friends. Like sticking with me had been keeping him small, and once he was free, he could be what he always wanted—larger than life.”
“And you kept your baby queer self in the closet so you wouldn’t steal his thunder? How tragically noble of you.“
I squeeze his fingers to soften the sting and try not to hate the little brother he so obviously adores.
“It wasn’t that hard to let him have it. I mean, I like girls too. I’ve dated plenty of them, and it’s always been fine. Easy.”
“I can be easy.“
It comes out light and flirty—a line I’ve used a hundred times. Only this time, it’s a lie, because inside I’m nothing but crossed wires and flickering emotion. Like the electric edge of the storm has seeped out of the air and worked its way under my skin.
But it works, because he blinks away his brother’s specter and smiles like he believes me. Then he reaches up to touch my face and says “I think falling for you would be the easiest thing in the world“
and stops my fucking heart.