Chapter Three - The Idea
CHAPTER THREE
The Idea
I woke to someone nudging me with their foot, and mumbled a protest as I tried to return to sleep.
“Good. You’re not dead,” said a familiar voice, though he sounded raspier than usual.
I cracked my eyes open to see Taylor step over me and wash his hands in the sink.
He was dressed in clean clothes, and his hair was damp.
Did he have a shower already? With me sleeping on the bathroom floor?
The idea that he had been naked just inches from where I lay filled my veins with adrenaline, waking me up.
“Glad to hear that you care about me,” I said, propping myself up so my face was no longer pressed against the cold tiles. Ugh. I was going to have to take a nice long shower to wash away my hangover.
“Please,” Taylor said. “I just don’t want to deal with the inconvenience of a dead body.” He dried his hands and looked down at me. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
He pulled one of my towels off the rack, and threw it onto my head. “Take a shower.”
“Don’t boss me around,” I replied, but when he left the bathroom, I did get into the shower.
The hot water against my skin felt like heaven, and I rested my head against a wall.
My head pounded and my stomach roiled. How much had I drank last night?
It’s not like I blacked out, because I could still remember everything that happened —
Oh, that’s right. Taylor and I had played Never Have I Ever, and I’d been desperate to one up him, so I drank to everything, even though I was actually a virgin.
His words from the night before drifted into my memory.
Never have I ever fucked a mouth. His eyes had looked so black and glossy.
Not shiny, like he was emotional, or glazed, like he was on drugs.
No, they had looked more intense than that.
Like he was relishing the memory of his past conquests.
Or as if he was looking right through me, past my fake confidence, to my very bones.
Inexplicably, my cock swelled. I stared at it in shock — I would have thought my headache was too bad to get turned on now, but it must have been the memory of those dirty words.
Jeez, I thought, wrapping a hand around my dick and giving it a few strokes. I had to get laid sooner rather than later.
Ten minutes later, I got out of the shower, brushed my teeth twice until the lingering taste of beer had disappeared, and changed into some clean clothes.
I walked out to the main room, expecting it to be empty, but to my surprise, Taylor was there, sitting on the couch.
He looked up from his phone and ran a critical eye over me.
“What?” I said, more out of habit than because I actually felt angry. I was too tired to start an argument today.
He didn’t reply as he watched me walk into the kitchenette to make my breakfast. After I put two slices of bread into the toaster, I had a glass of water and glanced over at him to see if he was still watching me. He was, and I almost choked on my water.
Cheeks burning, I put the glass of water down. I finished making my toast, then took the plate to the couch, sitting on the other end of it, as far as I could get from him. Which, to be honest, wasn’t particularly far. If he reached out one arm, he’d be able to touch my shoulder.
Maybe I should have just eaten in my room. But this was the living area, and I was allowed to eat wherever I wanted.
I took my first bite of toast when Taylor spoke.
“I didn’t know you were so experienced, Archie,” he said.
“Huh?” I said, mouth full.
He smiled patiently, and I almost dropped my jaw in shock.
Taylor smiled. At ME.
Had I woken up in a parallel universe?
“I didn’t know you were so experienced in bed,” he continued. “I learned a lot about you last night.”
I shrugged with false nonchalance.
“I don’t remember you having a girlfriend during high school,” he said.
“I did,” I replied quickly. “I’ve had a few.”
“Right,” he said. “But you were single last year.”
“How do you know that? I didn’t realise you paid so much time to my dating life.”
Taylor didn’t reply, just looked at me with that disconcerting pleasant smile.
“Anyway, even if I haven’t had an official girlfriend for a while, that’s not a requirement to sleep with someone, is it? Or are you a romantic?”
“Hardly,” Taylor said.
I ate more of my toast. I needed to finish my breakfast and then leave in a natural way, so it didn’t look like I was running away from him.
“You know,” Taylor continued, and something about his tone made the hair at the back of my neck stand up, “I was so surprised by what you admitted last night that I almost think you’re…lying.”
I froze. The only thing worse than Taylor finding out I was a virgin was him finding out that I had lied about being experienced. About eating girls out, about doing anal, about every other freaky thing the guys had said. I could already feel the humiliation and shame flooding my body.
Why the hell had I done that last night? It had been so lame. I hadn’t even been thinking — I just wanted to prove that I was better than Taylor at something. Anything.
“W-well,” I said, clearing my throat. “I wasn’t. Sorry you’re insecure.”
“Insecure?” He laughed, and I hated the sound of it. I hated it so much, I wanted to punch him in the stomach and see him buckle over. I knew deep down, part of the reason I was so pissed right now at him was because I was angry at myself. The embarrassment made me feel sick.
“Why would I ever be insecure?” Taylor said. “Especially around you?”
Fuck him. Why did he have to take every single opportunity to put me down, to make me feel so small?
“Because,” I said, raising my chin, “I’m more experienced than you. But it’s all good. We’re in uni. It’s the perfect time for you to catch up.”
“Right,” Taylor said, moving slightly closer. “You may be more experienced — something I’m already doubtful of — but I’m better in bed.”
I forced a scoff. “Yeah right. I’ve had tons more practice.”
“I’m sure you studied more than me too,” Taylor said. He shifted an inch closer, and I felt a bolt of fear. “But who, between us, won a full academic scholarship, and who’s here paying tuition fees?”
I gritted my teeth. “Shut up.”
“Don’t be a sore loser. You can’t be the best at everything. Or,” he laughed softly, “anything.”
“Stop acting like you’re better in bed than me. You can’t just say that, not when you have no proof.”
He opened his mouth, but I continued before he could argue. “And there’s no way to prove it. It’s not like you can pull a girl in here and fuck her in front of me to prove just how good you are.”
“You’d like to watch me, wouldn’t you?”
“The fuck?” I said. “Ew, no. No fucking way. Don’t say that gay shit.”
He didn’t look affected by my words. “There is actually a way for us to prove who’s better at sex. We could have a competition.”
“And how the hell would we do that?”
He waved a hand. “I’ll tell you all the logistics later. The point is…you wanna do it? There’d be a prize too, of course.”
He had my curiosity now. “What prize?”
He smiled. “The big bedroom.”
“You mean my bedroom?” I asked. “No way, that’s not up for grabs.”
“Why? Scared you’re going to lose it?” He clicked his tongue. “Not so confident now, are you?”
“That’s not it,” I snapped. “There’s no point in me competing for a prize that I already have.”
“Fine,” he said, sounding bored. “If I win, I get the bedroom. If you win, you can choose your prize. What do you want?”
I thought about it. There was no way I would ever take part in this dumbass competition — anyone with two braincells could see Taylor was clearly trying to trick me into giving him my bedroom. But regardless, it was fun to think about hypothetical prizes.
“If I won,” I said slowly, “you’d have to be my slave for the rest of the year.”
Ha. There was no way he’d agree to that.
“Done,” Taylor said.
“Done?” I repeated, not sure if I heard correctly.
“You do remember what the word slave means, right? It means I own you. If I want you to do my laundry, you do it. If I want you to cook me a five course meal, you do it. If I wanted you to get on your knees and clean every inch of the bathroom floor with your tongue, you do it.”
“Yes, I know.”
But I couldn’t help continuing. “It means if I want you to do all my homework, you do it. If I want you to carry me around, you do it. If I want you to strip naked and run through campus in broad daylight, exposing yourself in front of everyone and putting yourself at risk of a public indecency charge, you do it. I could ruin your life.”
Taylor shrugged. “Yeah, I understand. But I’m not worried. I know I’m going to win.”
I stared at his perfect face for a long moment. Someone like him had never lost in his life. Of course he was brimming with confidence.
I tore my eyes away and looked down at my plate, covered in crumbs. I’d finished my toast. Time to get out of here.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, standing up, my plate in one hand. “I’m not playing this stupid game.”
“Hang on,” Taylor said, grabbing my arm.
“Don’t touch me —” I began, but before I knew what was happening, I was pulled to the couch.
I landed on my ass with a gasp, and before I could scramble away, Taylor held his body over mine.
His face was close enough that I could see his individual lashes.
They were long and curled, but they didn’t make him look girly.
Instead, his face was already so masculine with its defined jaw and straight nose that he just looked even more perfect. Fucker.
“Let go of me,” I said, trying to push past him, but he wrapped both hands around my shoulders, keeping me flush against the back of the couch.
I knew Taylor was strong, but I’d spent the whole summer working out at the gym. I won’t lie — part of my motivation was the thought of being stronger than Taylor. But it seemed he’d worked out too.
“Why won’t you play our competition?” he asked.
“Because it’s dumb and a waste of time.”
“It’s not. Don’t you want the opportunity to make me your slave?”
“Not really.”
He smirked. “It’d be the one time in your life you’d actually be superior to me.”
“Shut up. You’re so fucking annoying.”
He lost his smile. “I should have known you were a pussy. Too scared to do anything. Not only that, a liar too.”
“I’m not a liar,” I protested.
“Uh-huh,” he said. “Well, we’ll see soon enough. When we have our competition. If you come in ten seconds, well.” He pouted. “We’ll see I was right all along.”
“I’m not a liar,” I repeated. “You’ll see that.”
“So you agree? You’re gonna play the game?”
Sometimes I fantasised about fighting him, getting him on the ground with my knee on his chest. But I didn’t just want to hurt him. I wanted to humiliate him. I wanted to make him feel as small and unimportant as he made me feel.
“Yeah,” I said impulsively. “It’s going to feel so good when I win. I can’t wait to make you my bitch.”
He laughed, and I took the opportunity to slide out of his grip. Once I was off the couch, I brushed myself down, then looked at him. “This Friday. Nine PM. Get ready to lose.”
He grinned, flashing a row of straight white teeth. “Can’t wait.”