Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
FINN
“Thanks, Finn.”
My eyes snap open, and the amazing orgasm high I was enjoying disappears with those two little words. My heart is hammering so hard I barely catch his offer to call him, but he’s right about one thing: my jaw is on the floor.
Our connection ends, and I want to beg him to come back and let me explain myself, but I’ve lost my voice—possibly my brain too—and instead of doing anything useful at all, I stare at my phone and hope I hallucinated that.
Thanks, Finn.
Motherfucker.
God, fuck. Balls. I should have told him. I bury my face in my hands, shame etching out a deep pit in my gut. What if he never wants to talk to me again? What if he’s offended that I’ve been watching him and talking to him without saying anything?
It’s not until the panic kicks in, flooding out to every limb, that I realize something: I don’t want to lose Curtis.
Losing Gunner would create a hole in my life that would take time to fill, but losing Curtis? Nah-uh. Nope. Can’t think about that.
All I know is that I need to apologize. Beg. Whatever he wants, I’ll do it.
I have no idea if our video somehow tipped him off or if he worked it out earlier tonight, but it doesn’t matter either way. I messed up.
My teeth bury into my bottom lip as I contemplate messaging him through the app, but as much as I hate to acknowledge it, this needs a phone call. It’s the bare minimum I can do, and it’s not Gunner I need to apologize to.
It’s Curtis.
Was he thinking of me, as in Finn, the entire time we filmed that? Was the video his way of getting back at me? Oh no, was his promise not to publish that a lie so he could get me to do it, and he plans to humiliate me all over the internet?
There are too many questions flying at me all at once, and none of them will go away until I’ve talked to him.
Why didn’t I ever ask for his number?
The first thing I do is clean myself up, then check the time, debating whether to text Melanie for Curtis’s number now—and let’s face it, at three in the morning, she’s definitely going to assume booty call—or wait until morning.
That’s hours away.
An actual lifetime of sitting here, riddled with guilt and anxiety, vibrating out of my damn skin over the thought of talking to him again. What if it gets to morning and I’ve made myself so sick over the thought that I physically can’t do it?
I’m not what you’d call a courageous guy, so it’s highly likely I’d chicken out.
Goddammit, I don’t want to do that to Curtis.
With a determination and confidence that usually only takes over once I’m at work, I leave my place and cross the yard toward the main house.
All the lights are off, and I have to let myself inside with the key Melanie gave me.
When she said it was for emergencies, I bet she didn’t consider this, but my nervous system has labeled talking to Curtis a top-tier emergency, and I need to do it now.
I sneak inside, ears strained for sex noises that will have me racing back out again, but the house is perfectly still.
Other than a few wineglasses in the sink, everything else has been washed up and packed away, so if I hadn’t been here a few hours ago, there’s no way I’d know this house had been full of people.
Where are the Cheeto crumbs smashed into the carpet? Or the beer stains on the couch?
Melanie and I have very different friend groups.
I go to creep down the hall toward their bedroom, when luck finally finds me. Her phone is plugged into a charger and sitting on the kitchen counter. And I know her code. I’m weak-kneed with relief.
The second I have it unlocked, I open her contacts, find Curtis’s number, then open my own phone to type it in. My hands are shaking, so it takes me three tries to get it right, and I’m sure I’m going to be busted at any moment.
I save it, lock Melanie’s phone, then hightail it out the door.
I’m sweating by the time I get back to my place, and as much as I want to curl up on the floor and die, I force myself to open Curtis’s number.
It’s late. So late. Would he have crashed out the second he ended the video, or is he still awake and hopped up on the anticipation of me calling?
I need to try.
With my eyes squeezed shut, I hit his number and lift the phone to my ear.
Nerves roll over in my gut at every ring, and I have to remind myself again and again that if he doesn’t answer, it means he’s asleep. Not that he’s mad and never wants to speak to me again.
He told me to call him. I’m not doing anything wrong. Umm … anymore.
“Holy shit, I’m gonna puke,” I whisper—
Right as the ringing stops.
There’s a long pause before the sexiest, warmest voice comes down the line. “I thought I warned you about mentioning vomit.”
“Curtis!”
He doesn’t reply, and that’s fair, but no matter how much I tell myself I need to speak, I’m lost. I probably should have rehearsed a speech or something first.
“I’m here,” he finally says, and that unleashes the floodgates.
“I’m so sorry! I know that doesn’t change anything, and I know it was horrible of me. I don’t have any excuse for it, but I meant everything I told you about your videos getting me through, and then suddenly, you were there at the engagement party and—”
“So you have known since the moment you met me. I wasn’t sure if—”
“No! I didn’t. I knew you looked familiar; I even told Dolcie you reminded me of someone. I thought I was losing my damn mind, and then at bowling … at bowling …”
“It clicked.” The revelation in his voice isn’t what I’m expecting, but then he keeps talking. “You realized who I was, panicked, and that’s why you began acting weird around me.”
“I didn’t plan to message you. I just … did.
It was supposed to be one message. One stupid message where I was going to tell you I was unsubscribing because of finances, so if you saw me gone, you wouldn’t think you did anything wrong.
But then I thought it was presumptuous of me to even think you’d notice, so I was going to ease into it.
Then you replied, and you reached out again, and it’s you.
Not only have I been fantasizing over you for a year, but you’re also an awesome person outside of the porn, and so how could I not write back?
And we got flirty, and I really liked it …
I’m not a thinker, okay? I know that doesn’t excuse anything, but our messages snowballed, and then I felt stuck.
I wanted to tell you, but I was so scared you’d hate me, and now you probably do, and I get it.
” I’m panting slightly when the words dry up, waiting for the moment he tells me he wants nothing to do with me.
“That … was a lot.”
“I’m sorry.” The words hurt a lot more than I expected them to, and I guess it’s because I really mean it. I messed up, and the thought of losing him has me driving my knuckles into my eye socket to hold it together.
“When you bought the Gunner-sized dildo and fucked yourself with it, was it Gunner or Curtis you were thinking of?”
The question throws me, but because I’m determined to never lie to him again, I push through my guilt and admit it. “Both. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve said.”
“And I’ll say it continuously if you forgive me.”
He doesn’t immediately say he will, and my knees get too weak to keep standing. I drop onto the couch, waiting for the inevitable rejection.
“Here’s the thing,” he starts cautiously. “You knew me as Gunner before we met. How do I know that this whole thing isn’t a way for you to live out your fantasies? Will you ever see me as a real person?”
The problem with this whole thing is that I do see him as a real person.
I’ve objectified him enough to know the difference.
When it was all one-sided porn, while I felt that connection to Gunner’s videos, it was what it was.
A stress relief. Something hot to look forward to.
A substitution for the relationship I really craved.
But Gunner blocking me like he’s done with the creeps in the past wouldn’t feel like this. This gut-wrenching shame is all because I don’t want to lose Curtis.
“I don’t think it matters how I answer that, does it? I expect you don’t really trust me, and that’s fair, but can you maybe answer something for me?”
“What?”
“Have I ever made you not feel like a real person? Be honest with me. In person, have I made you feel objectified or uncomfortable or …”
I give him time to think about it, trying to ignore the way each passing second eats at me.
Finally, he manages one word. “No.”
I’m more relieved by that than I probably should be. If his answer had been different, I could only imagine how horrible I’d feel. “Can I try to make it up to you?” I’m begging, and I don’t care. “Please. Anything. I really want to earn back your trust.”
His sigh sounds like it’s releasing all the tension from his voice. “For fuck’s sake, Finn. Why couldn’t you at least let me pretend to be mad for a bit longer?”
“Pretend?”
“Well … okay, no. I am mad. A little. The whole thing has messed with my head, because I know I should hate it, but I’m so attracted to you it’s ridiculous.
We did porn together, and it was the hottest thing I’ve done in a long time, and you weren’t even here.
Even after all this, I still trust you, because you’re …
you. I don’t know if you know this, but you’re an endearing guy. ”
“Sorry?”
“If you were at least one percent more of an asshole, I’d be able to hold this against you.”
“Only one percent? I sort of catfished you! Isn’t that a giant red flag?”
“Probably.” He sounds more like himself. “When I started on Money Shot, I knew I was putting myself out there. You didn’t make me message you back, and the whole time I was, it was you I was thinking about anyway. The cute rambling made it hard not to.”
“You were thinking of me?”
“You have taken up a worrying amount of my thoughts lately.”
As much as I want to smile, I’m waiting for a “but.” “Some days, I think you’re all I think about.”
“Finn …”
“What?” Might as well put it all out there. “I’ve met a sexy, flirty, sweet man who openly admitted to wanting to sleep with me and pinned me to a wall—what better things are there to think about?”
His amused snort lights a spark of hope in my chest. “You’ve got me there.”
“So …” I try to act braver than I am. “What now? Will you hate me forever, or do we somehow move on, or …”
“I don’t know.”
The honesty hurts, but I’d expect nothing less from Curtis.
“Thing is, we didn’t want to sleep together and make things messy for Mel and David, but that didn’t work. This is messier than I was even picturing.”
“Sorry.”
“I know. Stop it. I … This doesn’t change things for me. I feel like it’s supposed to, but when I think of you, I can’t stop myself from thinking you’re a good person. You just made a shitty mistake.”
“A really, really shitty one.”
“Agreed. So I guess the question is, what do you want?”
You. The thought pops up so fast I can’t deny it, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to tell him that. Curtis has made it perfectly clear where he stands with relationships, and I have to respect it. “Can I be honest?”
“Of course.”
I give him as much truth as he can handle.
“I don’t want anything to change. I get excited to see you and hang out, and I love having a friend here.
I really like flirting with you too. But …
” As much as I don’t want to say the next part, I force it.
“As much as I want to keep subscribing to you, if that’s too far, I won’t. ”
“It’s weird charging a friend for all that. Especially with what you pay.”
“Why wouldn’t I pay you for your work though? In the spirit of being candid, you make the hottest porn I’ve ever seen, and I’d still really like to see it. There’s no way I’d let you give me that for free.”
At first, I worry I’ve gone too far. When Curtis does answer me, there’s a rawness to his voice I’m not expecting. “Thank you.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Okay. How about this? Come over tomorrow, and we’ll review the video we made tonight. Then we can go from there.”
I’m ready to give Curtis anything he asks for, but when I’d agreed to watching the footage, I thought I’d be doing it in the privacy of my own home. No witnesses to the stupid amount of embarrassed blushing. “You want to watch it?”
“Obviously.”
“Together?”
He sounds more like Gunner when he answers. “I think I deserve to see you squirm, don’t you?”
I squirm right now. “Fuck me, Curtis, that isn’t fair. I just came, and you’re going to make me hard again.”
“My sex voice turns you on, huh?”
“I think I have a Pavlovian response to it by this point.”
“Good to know.”
“I’m going to regret telling you that, aren’t I?”
“Undoubtedly. Now, tomorrow. When are you free?”
Wow, I’m really doing this. “Unemployed, remember? Name a time, and I’ll be there.”
“Fine. Midday. Then you won’t have time to chicken out.”
He already knows me too well.
“Now, Finn?”
“Yeah?”
“Be a good boy and get some sleep.”