Chapter 9
Oliver
The moment Huxley leaves the room, I’m on my feet and pacing.
The show was amazing and I will keep watching, but right now I need to get my shit together.
Huxley is about to come out of my bathroom and announce he’s leaving, and I haven’t even tried to speak to him about how I feel. Why am I being such a coward?
How do I even start this conversation? Hey, I think I might be bi cos I think you’re sexy and cute.
Or, so I watched gay porn and thought of you.
What do you think that means? Hell no, that’s the worst. Perhaps, Huxley, I used to think I was straight until I met you.
Okay, so the last one is a little romantic.
My hands are sweating like crazy.
Huxley’s phone vibrates on the coffee table with a text notification. Leaning over to get a look—yes, I know I shouldn’t—my eyes widen at the name. Bradley. The ex! Before the screen goes black, I read the start of the message that’s visible.
Bradley: Miss you, honey. Can we catch up soon? I really think we should give it a second...
What the fuck?! No, nope, definitely not! This Bradley guy wants a second chance with Huxley. Not happening on my watch. I need to do—
“Is everything okay, Oliver?”
My head snaps towards Huxley’s voice. “Ah…yeah, everything’s okay.
I was just…stretching my legs. You know, a bit stiff after sitting for too long.
How was the loo?” Huxley looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, which I possibly have, and then giggles.
“Yeah, that was a weird thing to say. Sorry. I think I’ll just sit down again. ”
“Actually, I was thinking I should get going. It’s getting late.”
“Wait, don’t,” I say, springing back up onto my feet. “I do need to talk to you. I know I should have brought it up earlier. But it’s kinda hard for me to talk about.”
Huxley walks over to the couch and sits. “It’s okay, Oliver. Take your time.”
I lower myself back down, swallowing the bloody tennis ball-sized lump in my throat.
“You know the other night at the bar, when I said I’d always been sure of who I am?
Well… God this is hard. I guess I’m trying to say that I’m not sure anymore, and it’s since I met you.
Do you get what I’m saying?” I bite down on my bottom lip and hold my breath, bracing myself.
Huxley tilts his head to one side and speaks slowly. “Are you talking about your…sexuality?”
Thank God he’s following. “Yeah, I um…fuck. It’s just that when I’m around you, I feel… Do you feel anything when you’re around me? Honestly, it’s confusing. I’m confused.”
I must sound insane, but Huxley looks up at me with those big, green, vulnerable eyes, and I see…hope? My heart pounds as loud as an entire drumline, and I swallow nervously. I’m almost certain I want to kiss him. My eyes settle on his cupid bow lips.
I cannot keep denying this.
Huxley’s eyes drop to my mouth, and it’s all the encouragement I need.
“Fuck it,” I say, reaching for his face and closing the distance.
Huxley’s lips are softer than I imagined and rather than pull away like I expected, he deepens the kiss.
It sends a bolt of need through my body that shocks me. I moan into his mouth; I simply can’t stop it, the taste of him intoxicating.
The depth of my desire has me pulling away fast, light-headed and out of breath. “Shit. I’m not sure what I’m doing.” I stand, my throat constricting.
Huxley stands too, his face collapsing. “Look, maybe it would be best if I just go. It doesn’t seem like you know what you want.” He turns and walks toward the front door, but I can’t let him leave with the wrong impression. “Huxley, please wait. I just need a minute to process.”
At the front door, Huxley turns abruptly to face me. “I don’t think I can be your experiment, Oliver. I’ve been someone’s experiment before, and I can’t do it again. Plus, this—us—probably isn’t a good idea. It would make things complicated at work.”
Damn it, I’m fucking this up again. “You won’t be my experiment,” I plead.
“I would never let that happen. I just…this is so confusing. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be twenty-three and realise you might not be straight? I…I…like you, Huxley. I can’t stop thinking about you.
Could you please give me a chance and be patient with me? I’ll understand if you can’t. But—”
Huxley holds his palm up to stop me. “I like you too, Oliver. But I need time to think about it.” He turns, hand reaching for the doorknob, before he stops and faces me once again.
Hope stupidly rises.
“Just tell me this one thing,” he says. “Did you enjoy it?”
“The kiss?”
“Yes, the kiss,” he says, voice tight. “You told me you didn’t remember if you liked kissing that other guy because you were drunk. But you’re not drunk now.” Huxley’s voice drops to barely a whisper. “So, did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy kissing me?”
“Yes. Yes!” I take a leap and surge forward, kissing Huxley like my life depends on it. He opens almost instantly, accepting my tongue. My body burns when Huxley pants into my mouth and tangles his tongue with mine.
Feeling brave, I slide a hand down to his ass and squeeze, while my other hand sinks into those silky curls. I gently tug his head back, exposing the long, delicate line of his neck, and I kiss over his Adams apple. Huxley groans, his hands clawing at the back of my shirt.
“Oh fuck, Oliver. We should…we…”
Backing Huxley up against the door, I press my thigh between his legs. I’m already hard, and Huxley is too: he’s grinding his length against me.
Fuck, it’s so damn hot. I follow his lead—anything to get some relief for my throbbing dick. “You’re so sexy, Hux,” I moan into his ear before connecting our lips once again.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on from just kissing. If I keep grinding on Huxley’s leg, I might embarrass myself and come in my pants.
Huxley lifts the bottom of my shirt, and I reluctantly tear my lips away so he can pull it over my head. He steps back and drops my shirt to the floor, his hooded eyes locked on my chest and abs. “Are you fucking serious? How can you be this hot?”
Damn, that makes me feel good. “Kiss me,” I say. “Now.”
I grab Huxley by the shirt and pull him toward me. To my surprise, he goes straight for my nipples, taking one into his mouth while teasing the other with his fingers. “Oh my fucking God,” I say, my head falling back as he sucks and licks.
It’s sensation overload, my head spinning with the lust I feel for him. I need to slow things down, even if just for a minute.
Cupping Huxley’s face in my hands, I kiss him tenderly, slowly, deeply. I wish he was bare-chested too, so I could feel his skin pressed against my own. All my reservations have flown out the door, up and vanished, never to be seen again. This feels so damn right.
I slip my fingers under Huxley’s shirt—the skin on his stomach is warm and soft.
Inching lower, I slide my hand over his cock, stroking languidly through the fabric.
All the while, we kiss, tongues tangling, and, even though I’m insanely turned on, a sense of calm settles over me. I could make out with Huxley all day.
“Oliver…we…shouldn’t,” he murmurs between kisses.
“I want you,” I say, threading my fingers through his hair.
Huxley gently pushes me away with a hand on my chest. “I want you, too. But it’s too much, too soon. You need time to think. I don’t want you to regret anything. I wasn’t lying before. I can’t be your sexual experiment.”
I would never use him like that and it hurts to hear him say it.
I take both of Huxley’s hands in mine. “But Huxley, this feels so right. Please tell me you feel it too?”
He sighs. “Can you please put your shirt back on? It’s hard to think straight when your perfect pecs are in my face.”
The tension breaks and I chuckle. “You were the one who took it off.”
“It was for science. I had to see. Look, I really need to go before I do something stupid.”
“Are you calling me stupid?” I say, picking up my shirt and putting it back on. Huxley finally cracks a smile.
I think things are going to be okay between us.
“No, of course not,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Look, I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Okay?”
I reach for his hand again. “Before you go, please put me out of my misery. Does this feel right for you, too?”
Huxley licks his lips as he inhales deeply. “You know it does.”
I pull him into a tight hug, before giving him one last, lingering kiss. “Tomorrow,” I say as I open the door for him.
Huxley steps outside. “Thanks for today. Bye.”
“See ya.”
I watch him walk down the path before closing the door and slumping back against it. “Holy fuck,” I whisper.
Guess I can’t call myself straight anymore. It was probably the smart choice to stop things before they went too far.
My body is light and floaty, and my skin tingles. I'm still rock hard and I’m going to have to take care of that. But yes, I do need time to process what happened.
The doorbell rings, startling me. When I swing open the door, Huxley is on the other side, cheeks pink and brow pinched. “Did you forget something?”
“Um…yeah. My dog.”