23. Jorge
Jorge
Take It Out On Me
“ I should bring a tent since I’m living here now,” I grumble to Michael, who looks just as frustrated as I am.
We’ve been in the studio all week.
I remember when I used to love recording songs. It’d make me feel legit—like we were a proper band. In ways, I do still love it, but Lex has been in a goddamn mood since our meeting. He’s flustered, and when he’s flustered, we all suffer for it. He and Devon are arguing over the solo Michael recorded. Lex insists it needs to be louder on the track, but Devon disagrees.
“It’s better than being home,” Michael says under his breath before running through the first half of Iron Man by Black Sabbath.
It’s his comfort tune.
Sagging on the worn couch, I open Oli’s text thread, wondering if he wants to see me later. My thumbs hover over the screen, debating what to say, but I come up blank. Ever since he watched me jack off and fingered me, we haven’t done anything sexual since. He hasn’t even kissed me, either. I know he needs time to process it all—to work through his feelings, but I’m worried I did something wrong.
Maybe it should have been me that said no. I was so excited to do anything with him that I didn’t take the time to consider all the ways our intimacy could’ve hurt him. I don’t want to do that. I’ve checked in multiple times since, and he gets progressively more irritated with me each time.
“I’m good, Jorge.”
“Why do you keep asking?”
“Do you want me to be upset about it?”
Blowing a lock of curls away from my face, I chew my cheek. I wish I could talk to someone about it all— anyone would do at this point.
Flicking my eyes up from my phone, I watch Phoenix intervene in the argument with Lex and Devon. They’re in the booth, hidden behind soundproof glass, so I can’t hear what’s said. Phoenix crosses his arms, puffs out his chest, and tries to calmly say something to Lex. Devon tugs at his hair, pointing an accusatory finger.
“Michael,” I say loudly to get his attention.
The longer strands of his blond hair hang in his eyes as he peers up at me. “It’s no use. Whatever this shit is between Devon and Lex needs to be handled by them, not us. Phoenix is wasting his breath.”
I blink, wondering where that came from, and shake my head. “Can I tell you something?”
He slides his pick between the strings along his fretboard, sets the guitar on its stand, and nods. “Sure.”
Kelly is still MIA at her great aunt’s, so I don’t have to worry about her overhearing. “I’m probably a little gay.”
Snorting, Michael comes and sits next to me. “You’ve always been a little gay.”
Appalled, I gape at him. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, dude. It’s not exactly a surprise here.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup,” he says, popping the P and cocks his head. “Wait, are you like…coming out to me? Shouldn’t you tell Phoenix?”
I slap my forehead. “I’m not coming out. It’s just I have this thing…with a man.”
“Feels like you’re coming out.”
“I’m not coming out!” I roar at the very moment Phoenix stalks out of the booth.
“Jorge is gay,” Michael points.
Phoenix’s eyebrow arches. “Huh?”
I want to slip off the couch and melt into the floor. “I’m not gay. I’m like…” I search for an accurate description. “I’m bisexual adjacent.”
Both of them stare at me before Phoenix laughs. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I’m bisexual, for one person. Duh,” I grumble, rolling my eyes, and then it dawns on me.
I fucked up.
Oh, Jesus.
My best friend of twenty-three years beams at me like it’s Christmas. Rushing over to the free cushion beside me, Phoenix plops down and grabs my face.
“That’s awesome!” he delights over me.
My heart bangs against my ribs because he’s going to ask…there’s no way he won’t.
“Who is it? Do we know them?”
“I, too, would like to know.”
Devon and Lex appear a beat later, red-faced and unwilling to look at each other. Lex sneers at me before leaving the studio, and Devon twists his thumb ring. “What’s happening?”
“Jorge came out,” Michael says, and Phoenix tags on, “he’s bi!”
“Welcome to the club,” Devon says dryly before leaving.
“That was fucking rude,” I growl and stare at the door that bangs on his exit.
“Ignore them. Devon will be excited about it once he’s not pissed,” Phoenix reassures me and pats my cheek. “Seriously, who is it?”
I gurgle loudly on my tongue as I choke through syllables of a lie that is damn near impossible to form. I sound like I’m having a seizure or some form of demonic possession.
“A dude,” I spit out and launch from the couch. “Anyway. I gotta go help…Patrice.”
“Patrice? Who the fuck is Patrice?” Michael asks with a frown.
“Jorge?”
“I’m late. Sorry!” I run out of the studio, sweat pooling in my armpits and my linner bitch slapping my uvula.
Fun fact: a meal between lunch and dinner is called linner. Moving on.
I pump my arms, bypassing Devon, who is pacing outside the building, and sprint to my car. Throwing myself inside, I briefly glance out the right passenger window to see Lex white-knuckling his steering wheel and looking like he’s plotting someone’s murder. With an awkward wave and hysterical laugh, I key the engine and peel out of there.
P acing in my living room, I ignore the eight texts from Phoenix demanding to know if I’m okay.
I’m freaking the fuck out, Phoenix . No, I’m not okay.
Feels like I’m going to spontaneously combust.
Mistakes were made. Oh, God, mistakes were fucking made.
I wheeze a little, slapping my chest as my eyes burn with budding tears. All I wanted was to tell someone and look at what that got me.
Phoenix won’t let me avoid him forever. He’ll bug me until I cough up who it is. I don’t want to keep lying to him. I’m sick of it. Especially because I’m like eighty-seven percent sure I’m falling for Oli.
My chin wobbles as I stop pacing and scrub my eyes.
So many things need to happen before I can even consider coming clean. We need to talk. We need to establish where this is going to go. Oli needs to tell me it’s okay to fall the other thirteen percent of the way.
I haven’t been in love in so long, and the prospect of it scares me.
When Riley and I broke up, I was down in the gutters for a while. She’d been a huge part of my life for years, so I didn’t know what to do with myself when I didn't have that familiarity anymore. I know it was for the best, and I don’t regret letting that chapter end, but I can see myself being happy with Oli. Even if he never touches me again.
What I feel for him goes way beyond physical need. It’s companionship on the deepest level. Soul-deep. Every corny romance line comes to my brain, even those are inaccurate. It’s more. Always more with Oli.
But that’s the thing, though. I don’t know how he feels. Sure, he’s been pining for me for years, but that might be surface-level.
I want to know if being with me makes his heart gallop.
If seeing my smile opens up a rainbow of color in a sea of grey.
Does he dream about me? Does he lay awake at night fantasizing about the day when he can openly claim me? Hold my hand and kiss my lips? Because that’s what I go through. Every fucking day.
I cherish him. I want to keep him safe inside my heart pocket.
“Damn it,” I croak and pull my phone out of my pocket.
Can you come over?
We need to talk.
The three dots appear immediately.
That sounds ominous.
Are you okay?
No. I’m not.
I came out to Michael and Phoenix.
I’m on my way.
See you soon.
See you soon.
Dread swirls in my gut.
What the hell am I going to do? I’m so afraid of everything blowing up in my face. The way I acted earlier is so unlike me. I don’t run away from Phoenix. I don’t drop bombshells and dip without any explanation. I’ve never been this distant from my best friend. Never let him be. I always bugged. Always stuck my nose in everything. He probably thinks I don’t care anymore.
My need to be needed made me such a clingy friend, and now I don’t know anything.
How are he and Eli doing? Is Eli doing better? Is Phoenix still afraid he’ll leave him? When are they getting their own place? What are they going to do whenever we go on tour again? How is Phoenix’s dad? All these fucking questions I would normally have an answer to, but I don’t.
I quickly text Phoenix.
Give me 'til tomorrow.
I’ll be ready to explain then.
Turning off my phone so I don’t have to deal with more guilt, I toss it on my couch and go take a piss. After, I brush my teeth and gargle with mouthwash. I should take a shower, but I don’t have the energy, and the last thing I want is for Oli to think I’m expecting anything. Opting to change instead, I do just that. As I’m slipping into my shorts, I hear the knock at my door.
My feet lock in place. I scratch my stomach, swallow hard, and feel my eyes water again. I really hope this goes well.
Steeling myself, I force my legs to obey my brain and head out of my room to open the front door. When I do, Oli looks concerned and a little breathless. The tears come out. I can’t stop them because he rushed to get to me. I needed him, and he came.
“Don’t cry,” he begs, swooping in and hugging me hard.
I cling to him, desperate for this connection, and shake in his arms. We’ve cuddled a few times throughout the week, mostly because I gave him sad puppy eyes, and he caved. Whenever Oli initiates affection, it’s like I’ve been chosen—like I’m the most important human in the world.
“It just came out. I needed to tell someone, Oli. I’m so tired of not telling anyone,” I cry into his neck.
He easily lifts me off the floor, carries me inside, and kicks the door shut. I band my legs around his hips, holding on so tightly that I fear if I ease up even a fraction, he’ll change his mind and leave me. Sitting on my couch, he adjusts my legs so I can stay sealed to him. I let myself have a good cry for a while, purging all my feelings. He strokes my back and whispers sweet things to me. It’s alright, baby. Shh. You’re okay.
When the torrent finally stops, I sniffle loudly and scrub my face. “I need to get it out of me,” I tell him, sitting back so I can look into his eyes. “I’ve come to terms with my sexuality. I know that I want to be with you. I know that I’m eighty-seven percent in love with you. But what I need more than anything is reassurance, Oli. Ever since last week, it feels like I pushed you away. Did I do something wrong? Did I make you feel pressured? You gotta tell me.” It comes out in a rush, and I heave in deep breaths to calm the fuck down.
“What would you like me to answer first?” he asks sincerely, tucking my curls behind my ear.
“Did I do something wrong?” That feels the most urgent out of everything.
“No.” He offers me a small, sad smile. “You were perfect.”
“Then? What gives? Why have you been distant and weird and—”
“I needed to talk to my therapist. And I did. Today. He’s been essential to how I handle our relationship. Whenever I feel lost, he brings me insight. I want to do this right, Jorge.”
I take another breath. “He got you in a week early?”
Oli nods. “Yes.”
“H-How did that go?” I want to touch him but keep my hands in my lap. I never know when it’s okay to touch him.
He gently puts my hands on his chest like he can read my body language. I sigh and wait for him to answer while kneading his muscles. “He’s proud of me. Proud that I’m trusting someone.”
“I’m proud of you too, babe,” I tell him, feeling better now that I’ve got my hands on him and have cried.
“He also suggested that I…open up fully. I’m deciding how to do that.”
“Okay,” I say carefully. “Like about…what happened to you?”
“Yes,” he says tightly and cups my forearms. “I don’t want you to view me differently. What we did…I felt good. Like I was strong.”
“You are ,” I insist. “You prove that every day, beautiful.”
Toying with the hairs on my arms, he sighs. “My biggest fear is having you see me for what I really am.”
“What do you think that is?” I ask, stopping my ministrations so I can be fully present. His chest is distracting me.
“Broken, Jorge. Not whole. Not enough.”
“You will always be enough for me. More than enough. I’m obsessed with you, Oli. Nothing you could tell me will change that.”
I can tell he doesn’t believe me but doesn’t argue. Instead, his hands drop from my arms to my waist while his eyes travel to my lips. “You want to tell Phoenix.”
“I do,” I admit. “He deserves to know.”
Oli’s face twists. “I don’t know about deserve , but I don’t want you upset over this.”
“He knows he was wrong, babe. He knows it.”
Sighing, he leans forward to band his arm around me and tugs me closer. An embarrassing gasp leaves me as he puts us nose to nose. “I can’t promise I’ll talk to him, but if you need to tell him, tell him.”
Oh, what a sneaky shit. “You’re going to tell me that with your face this close to mine? Really?”
“Mhm,” he purrs, nuzzling me.
“After I’ve been desperate to kiss you for days ?”
“You can kiss me now, but then we’d stop talking.” He brushes his lips over my cheek, and I whimper.
“This is foul play,” I grumble, digging my fingers into his chest.
“How else am I going to get the other thirteen percent?”
I reel back, eyes wide. “Ohmygod. I said that?”
“You did.” The sexy demeanor shifts as he turns downright bashful.
Gently lacing my arms around his neck, I press my forehead to his. “It’s the truth.”
“I want one hundred, Jorge. It’s been one hundred for me for a very, very long time.”
“I could be persuaded,” I rasp and press my lips to his.