Chapter 16 Evan
EVAN
Deacon has been sitting on the edge of my bed, telling me in detail all about how he used to spend his weekends.
It’s very clear that besides Isaac, he hasn’t dated—like ever, and I’m also super clear on why he probably thinks the two of us wouldn’t be sexually compatible.
We’re now at the part where his so-called friends left him in a hospital when he was so intoxicated it took him two hours to be coherent enough to state his name.
“Jesus, Deacon. If you’d called—I mean, you have my number, you know?”
“Once they let me leave, I was sober,” he says simply.
“But you were there all alone.” He’s letting me look him in the eyes for a longer period of time than he usually does, so I want to keep him talking.
It’s been a long, sad, boring day here by myself, and I was positive he’d wind up at Isaac’s tonight, so the fact that he’s here, offering to walk my dog and tell me his story feels huge and important. “Weren’t you scared?”
“I was pissed off, but honestly, I was asleep most of the time.”
“I’m so sorry that happened.”
“I don’t get when people apologize for things they had nothing to do with,” he says.
“It’s an expression of sympathy. Part of the universal—I hope that shit never happens to me.”
“That makes sense. Well, if it ever does happen to you, I hope you call someone. Me. Or whoever.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Anyway, thanks for letting me talk to you and not kicking me out.”
“Like I’d kick you out of my bed.” Fuck I can’t believe I just said that. I laugh softly to cover my embarrassment before burying my face in my hands. “Sorry. I can’t stop apparently.”
“Stop what?” he asks.
“Sounding like I’m coming onto you.”
“Are you?”
“No,” I say. “I’m not. I promise.”
Deacon shifts to lean on one of his hands. “Can I tell you something else?”
“Yeah.”
“Even if it’s about Isaac?”
I hesitate. This is the main thing I’ve been thinking about today—whether I can be a big boy about all of this, or if I’m only capable of being a whiny baby.
The latter part of me wants to close my eyes, cover my ears and sing a song so I can’t hear what he says.
The big boy nods his head and says, “Of course.”
His expression is so earnest and grateful, I get the sense I might be the only person he feels like he can tell whatever this is to.
“When I saw it was him on the date, I assumed he’d want to be in control. CEO and everything.”
I nod slightly.
“But it didn’t end up being like that. And I thought I’d want him to just use me or whatever—that’s kind of what I do, right? Historically? Anyway, I ended up topping, which isn’t something I do normally. But it like—makes sense with him.”
That was not where I saw this headed. The tales of Deacon’s sexual exploits in the clubs involved Deacon being more or less submissive. I’ll grant, that’s how I pictured him with Isaac, too. So, this is a lot of new news.
“Do you ever top?” Deacon asks.
“No,” I say.
“Never?”
“I’m like a strict top magnet. I’ve never been with anyone who wanted me to do anything other than open up.”
His eyes flick down my body when I say that, and I feel a rush of warmth below my waist. I shift more onto my side, and he turns to face the closet. “What makes someone good at topping?” he asks.
“Oh, wow.” I scoot back toward my pillows and rub my hand over my hair. “That’s kind of a loaded question.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s so many more things that make someone bad at it.”
“I’ve always been pretty fucked up when I’ve had sex,” he tells me.
“When did you come out?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I don’t feel like I ever wasn’t out. It was just who I was, but I started fucking around with my guy friends in high school. I had a girlfriend, too, though, so... We were all kind of involved, I guess.”
“Wow. That’s…interesting.”
“It was messed up,” he says. “I think I’ve always known my friend group and the shit we did together was fucked up. That’s probably why I used so many drugs.”
My mouth twists into a grimace. He probably doesn’t want to talk about that as much as I don’t want to ask my next question. “So, Isaac likes to bottom?”
“I don’t think he’s used to it.”
I take a deep breath and look down at my fidgeting hands, pinching my fingertips one at a time. “Are you afraid you’re gonna hurt him or something?”
“No. I just…want him to feel good.”
“Does it feel good to you?” I ask. “Like is that what you want?”
“Yeah, I mean. Like I said—it makes sense. To me. And maybe that’s the problem. Things that make sense to me don’t always make sense to other people. I misread things.”
“That’s the one good thing about having sex with a man though, right? You can tell when something’s working.”
“I guess.”
I’m bordering on light-headed. “So…is it working?”
“Do you mean does he get off?” He nods in answer to his own question.
Half my heart spills onto the bed when I say, “Then just keep doing what you’re doing, I guess. As long as it gets you off too, and you don’t hate it.”
“I don’t hate it,” he tells me. “I like it. I just wasn’t expecting to.”
“Well, maybe underneath all the self-destructive behavior is just someone who wants to take care of people.”
Deacon’s head jerks slightly. “Jesus.”
“What?”
“My therapist said almost the same thing. I think you’re right,” he says quietly.
I nod, reaching over to pet Apollo’s sleeping head, not sure what else to say.
But I guess he’s not done talking. “Is it too late to give you that hug?”
I glance at him. “I don’t need a hug, Deacon. I’m okay.”
“It’s for me, too.”
Obviously I can’t say no to that. He’s not a hugger, and I’m such a hugger, so whether I need one or not, I’m not gonna deny someone. I get onto my knees and shuffle closer. “Do you even like hugging?”
“It depends,” he says.
“On what?”
“The usual. Who, what, when, why.”
I lift my arms and aim for his shoulders. He comes in for my waist. Our chests make contact, and I lean my head against his.
“Your hair smells good,” he says.
“Thanks. I didn’t do much today, but I did shower.”
“Smells can bug me sometimes, but I like yours. A lot.” After saying that, he turns his head to sink his nose into my hair.
I try to keep my shit together and my arms unmoving. Unfortunately, all that effort doesn’t reach my mouth. My attraction to him is fucking raging, my dick growing rock hard. “If you’re trying to make me like you less, this isn’t working.”
He laughs softly. “That’s obviously not what I’m trying to do.”
I don’t know what that means, so I pretend it means what I want it to. “But I like you too much already.”
“I want us to be comfortable with each other. Always,” he says. “This is helping me. Is that okay?”
“Why does it matter if you’re comfortable around me if we’re just roommates?”
“I’ve never been comfortable with any of my roommates before,” he tells me. “Until you.”
What’s left of my heart starts melting. “But I mean, like, how comfortable are we talking?”
“At least comfortable enough to do this,” he says.
“What if I get too comfortable, and I start doing inappropriate things?”
“Like what?” he asks. “Kiss me?”
“Something like that.”
“Then I guess we’d find out what it was like to kiss each other.”
“Fuck, Deacon,” I groan, desperately trying to make myself pull away. “I need to get over you, not start kissing you randomly. You’re seeing someone.”
“Someone you had sex with yesterday,” he reminds me. “We’re obviously not exclusive.”
“Then why did you even tell me you were seeing him? You made a whole thing of it.”
“Well, if nothing happened after the weekend, I wouldn’t have brought it up, but since it seems like it’s gonna keep going, I thought I should.”
“Would you have still kept the plans for dinner if it was going nowhere?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, and it sounds like he means it. “If you still wanted to go without me having anything to talk about.”
I give his shoulders a squeeze. “Of course I would have.”
He lets out a soft moan. “That’s a really nice thing to hear. Do you want to kiss?”
“Do you?” I ask, vibrating like—everywhere.
“Holding you is kind of turning me on.”
Fuck me. Same.
But…
I put a hand on his chest and push us apart. He meets my eyes. “Don’t fuck with me.”
He frowns. “I’m not.”
“Because I don’t need you to take care of me or whatever. I appreciated dinner and everything, but since then I’ve honestly never felt more pathetic.”
“I’m being honest with you,” he says.
“Then I need to be honest, too. I don’t think I can do casual with you.
” All this time alone hurting has forced me to confront the feelings I have for both Deacon and Isaac.
It’s been like a collision of opposites.
The same thing that’s helped me keep my emotional distance from Isaac—sex—is the exact same thing I’m terrified would make me fall way too hard for Deacon.
What I haven’t figured out is why. All I know is I’m safer if I take a step back.
His lips part, and it takes a second for the small sound to come out. “Oh.”
“But thanks for the offer.”
“Are you offended?” he asks.
I’m not offended. I feel a little like a charity case, but Deacon is all sincerity and caring.
It would be so easy to fall in love with him––too easy.
The fact that he’s been impossible to get, albeit in a completely different way than Isaac, has made this crush from afar very safe for me.
What he’s offering now, however, feels dangerous. So, no. I’m not offended. I’m scared.
No matter what, I’m going to lose everything, and it’s time I started to wrap my mind around that.