Seventeen
Wes
Devon Montgomery: You’re squirming. Either you REALLY hate the suit or you decided to use a butt plug and didn’t tell me?
I let out a soft chuckle at the text, but unfortunately it does nothing to relax me. I still feel completely claustrophobic in this fancy suit.
Me: I WISH I had a butt plug in! Maybe it’d take my mind off the fact that I’m literally suffocating right now
Devon Montgomery: Would it help if I said you look incredibly sexy in the suit?
Me: Not really. We both know I look incredibly sexy in everything I wear…or don’t wear ??
Me: Also your opinion holds very little value to me
Devon Montgomery: That’s okay. You’re wellbeing is of very little concern to me. As long as your dick is still functioning later tonight I don’t really care what happens to you in the meantime
Me: You’re such a fucking slut
Devon Montgomery: Pot/Kettle ?????♂?
I chuckle and slip my phone back into my breast pocket.
“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Emma gushes, eyes wide with concern.
I frown at her. “What?”
“You were smiling ,” she says in an almost accusatory tone. “You’re wearing a suit and you were smiling.”
I cringe. “Gee, thanks Em. I really needed the reminder that I’m slowly suffocating to death.”
It’s Mum’s party tonight, so of course Emma has made the trip home for the weekend.
And, unlike last time, Mum really put her foot down about the black-tie dress code for tonight, which means I’m stuck wearing a monkey suit for the night and being slowly choked to death by my own bow tie. What an epic epitaph that will be.
And if you thought having Devon lurking on the other side of the room would be helpful in any way, think again; not only am I suffocating, but I’m horny and suffocating. It’s going to be a long night.
“So, what were you smiling about?” Emma pries, sipping casually at her water.
I shrug. “I was sexting. Some guy called me a slut.”
“Sounds like a real prize,” she says with an eye roll, which prompts me to let out a burst of wild laughter.
Her brows draw together, and she scans her gaze over me, clearly perturbed. “Are you okay?”
I offer a wry smile. “Perfectly.”
“Emma, it’s lovely to see you.” I startle at the sound of Devon’s voice so nearby; I thought he was all the way on the other side of the room.
My sister smiles up at her ex, reaching up on her tip toes to brush a kiss to his cheek. “Hey, Dev. Thanks for coming—Mum’s thrilled that you’re here.”
“Of course.” He turns to me, his eyes scanning up and down my body. “Wes—dressed for the occasion for once, I see.”
I send him a hard glare, one eyebrow cocked in challenge.
His lips quirk in amusement and he reaches into his pocket for his phone. “Nice seeing you,” he says with a polite nod before disappearing back into the crowded party.
A moment later, I get a text.
Devon Montgomery: So do I get to unwrap you like a present tonight?
The second I get back to Devon’s place after the party, I start stripping out of my tux, feeling more and more like myself as each layer of the constricting formalwear comes off.
“Not that I’m complaining, but--”
I ignore whatever Devon’s trying to say, pushing past him and into the living room, littering the floor with clothing until I’m finally down to my briefs. Then I sink onto the sofa and sprawl out, feeling like I can breathe for the first time all night.
“Comfy?” Devon asks, one eyebrow raised.
I hold a hand up to ward off further comment. “You have your weird needle thing, I have this. Let’s just call it even.”
“So, what, it’s like a phobia?” he asks, clearly curious.
I shift around in agitation. “It’s not…I don’t know.
It’s not as though I’m afraid of formalwear.
I just don’t like wearing it. All the stiff fabrics and the ties and the uncomfortable shoes and the trousers that need to be pressed just so…
it all just reminds me of my private school days, which was a period of time that wasn’t exactly fun for me. ”
“How come?” His tone is gentle, and there’s concern in his eyes, which is probably the only reason I start talking.
“Did you go to a private school?”
He shakes his head. “No. Although I gather most of them have a pretty strict uniform policy.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. It’s probably changed now, but back then there was also this other policy—less formal, but equally strict,” I explain.
“The Don’t Let Anyone Know You Like Boys Unless You Want Your Head Smashed Into the Bathroom Mirror Policy.
” I lift a hand to absently trace over the faded scar at my temple, which is now mostly concealed by the rose tattoo I have there.
He just stares at me, completely aghast. “That…happened to you?”
I offer a brittle smile. “It was the nineties. Not exactly a great time to be a gay teen.”
“How old were you?”
I shrug. “Fourteen, I think. It was third form.”
“And you stayed at the school after that?” he demands, clearly stunned. “Didn’t your parents do anything about it?”
I slump back into the couch and stare up at him, urging him to see things more clearly.
“I was closeted. They didn’t know the full story.
All anyone knew was that there was a fight, we were both injured, and school property was damaged,” I explain.
“My parents paid a small fortune to keep me enrolled at the school. Dad practically worshipped the place; both and granddad went there, and it’s pretty much the one thing in my entire life that he’s ever been passionate about.
Even if I had been in the position to tell the full story, I’m not sure I could have taken that away from him. ”
“And let me guess, the next three years were a breeze?” he asks dryly.
I let out a soft chuckle. “I got to keep my place, but the black mark never went away, so I was under constant threat of expulsion. Every tiny misstep had me in a complete panic, freaking out about how I was letting Mum and Dad down. And, of course, I dove even deeper into the closet, which always works out wonderfully well…”
He lets out a wry breath of laughter, and then his expression changes, as though his mind has snagged on something. “How did the other kid get injured?”
“Huh?”
“In the bathroom. You said you were both injured…”
“Oh…I, um, snapped my head back and broke his nose.”
Devon’s mouth curves into an approving smile. “Bastard deserved it.”