Chapter 45
EVAN
Emotionally, I’m all over the place. I can’t decide whether returning Isaac’s email was the right thing to do or the biggest mistake I ever made.
In bed, with my eyes closed, my hand drifts down to my dick.
One touch, and it twitches to life until it’s throbbing in my hand with each stroke I give it.
I’m single now, so I jerk off plenty, but doing it with Deacon a room away feels better.
Better in a bad way. A naughty way. Okay, maybe a slightly desperate way.
I refuse to get too close to him—he’s got a boyfriend now, and I’m not part of their relationship anymore—but that doesn’t stop the way I’m attracted to him or the way I wish I could climb onto his lap and ride him until I’m coming on his abs.
Not that he would want that. And I’m a little disappointed in myself that after a month, I still do.
He’s done nothing whatsoever since he’s gotten here to turn me on other than be a fucking tech genius and save the day with my buggy software.
Honestly, that’s hot, though, and I guess it’s got me going this morning, even if the rest of our morning was pretty fucking depressing.
Just before I come, I realize it’s going to be a huge orgasm, so I clap my hand over my mouth and turn my face into the pillow.
My entire body convulses as my nuts unload.
I groan as I continue to jerk my cum slicked cock in my loosening fist. Each new gush brings another toe-curling shudder that leaves my asshole grasping for something to fill it.
When I’m so overstimulated, I’m afraid I’ll cry, I let go and pant into the pillow, utterly spent and boneless.
My dick feels like a live wire. It’s several minutes before it even thinks about softening.
Turning away from the wet spot, I wind up facing the door, knowing I should go back out there, but afraid to hear any more of Deacon’s truth bombs.
How long is he planning to stay? And what the fuck am I supposed to do while he’s here? Pretend I’m happy with the choice I made when I’m not? Ask him all the questions I have about Isaac? Code?
I’ll be in Carmel tomorrow, which isn’t far at all from San Francisco. Will I be able to resist this sudden, terrible urge I have to see Isaac? To check for sure that he’s doing okay? And what if he isn’t? What if he’s aching the way I know for a fact I’ll ache when I lay eyes on him again?
If it’s anything like the way I felt seeing Deacon outside my door at three am, I won’t be able to resist asking for another chance.
A chance at a relationship I’m still not sure I’m capable of navigating. One I’m still half-convinced will rip me straight down the middle.
I wonder if this is how Isaac felt. If this is what it feels like to be in love with two men. Because that’s what this is, right? I couldn’t choose either. Having them both felt impossible, so I chose nothing. But I fucking love them.
And I left.
Instead of trying to sleep anymore, I get up to take a shower, reasoning that I’ll be able to rest when I get to my mom’s house.
Napping is pretty much the only way I can cope when I’m there, anyway.
Tonight, I’m dropping Apollo off with Hunter so I can fly up the coast. I really do need to get a car, it’s just that I haven’t driven in so long and LA is nothing if not intimidating to a new-ish driver.
I dress in joggers and a cropped sweatshirt—it’s something I’ve worn around Deacon a million times before, but it sends a signal that I don’t want to go out again.
The shirt is threadbare and only shows a sliver of abs, so it’s not meant to be sexy, either.
Before I go to the living room, I pick up my phone and see a message from Deacon.
It’s a link. Clicking it, a note opens up. It’s dated February 27th.
Things I should have said to him:
You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.
Same goes for your ass. Sorry, not sorry.
The first time we kissed it felt like the hundredth time.
Not in a bad way. It felt like something we’d been doing.
Like every time you smiled at me before had actually been a kiss.
Every time you ran interference for me at a party was a kiss while you were holding both my hands.
I can’t believe I didn’t see it. Bailey said it was obvious and I guess it was to people who aren’t like me.
I get why your relationship with your ex fucked you up.
Having that crush on Ryan only to watch him fall for someone else kind of fucked me up for roommates, too.
But you’re not Ryan. When I saw what Ryan was like with Mal, it was obvious he and I would have never worked.
When you kissed me, it felt like you and I could have.
You’re more fun to have sex with than Isaac. He’s epic, don’t get me wrong, and I’m sure you agree, but I never thought of sex as fun before I had it with you. Not that I want you back online, but I think your camboy era really paid off. You take a dildo beautifully, and that shit’s a skill.
It was always gonna be a minute before I was able to settle down with you.
You’ve always challenged me kind of like my therapist and Bailey do.
The thing is I find you way more attractive than I find them, so my brain sort of scatters whenever I’m around you.
You make me nervous and excited and scared because I know you like me, and I don’t ever want to fuck that up.
I wouldn’t have done anything with Isaac if I’d known you two were fucking. You can say there weren’t feelings, but the fact that you weren’t dating anyone else the whole time you lived with me—at least I don’t think you did—kind of indicates that you had some feelings about him.
You’re my best friend. I didn’t just steer clear of you because we were roommates. I didn’t want to ruin the friendship.
I never wanted you out of the way. I only wanted you to want me there as much as Isaac did.
To be continued.
Blinking through my tears, I scroll up and check the date again. February 27th. A few days after I moved to LA.
Clicking out of the note, I find another text from Deacon.
Deacon
I have more than a dozen of those. Lmk if you want to see the rest.
I’m honestly not sure I could take it. Wiping my cheeks and getting myself together, I go back into the living room.
I’m not at all expecting the lingering, slightly heated up and down appraisal he gives me.
I’m about to have a seat in the chair when he pats the cushion beside him. “Come look,” he says.
Do I just pretend I didn’t just read his unfiltered innermost thoughts about me?
He stares up at me expectantly.
“You can share it with me,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady.
“It’s right here.”
I ease myself down on the couch next to him, keeping my distance. He tilts the laptop in my direction. On the screen is the home page for the software. “Try it out.”
I have to shift a little closer to start clicking through it. My forearm grazes his. I ignore the chills that break out on my arm and quickly spread to cover my entire body. “It works,” I say in surprise and relief.
“I had some ideas for how to collapse and expand some things and add some personalization features,” he says, his voice low and quiet.
“I already know how I want to personalize it, but this looks great.”
“I mean, at least it’s working.”
“I guess I have to give you co-writer credit now.”
“No, you had everything in there already. You just had a bunch of stuff that didn’t belong anymore.”
I take my hand off his keyboard and sit back. “Thanks. This would have taken me another month.”
“I told you I’d help.”
I can feel him looking at me, but I can’t make myself look up at him. I stare at the screen. At his hand. The familiar light tapping of his fingers.
“What song is that?” I ask.
“Hm?”
“It’s like you’re always playing a piano. It has a rhythm.”
“Oh. Um. It’s Bach. Minuet in G.”
“Why that one?”
“That’s kind of like asking why I always put my right leg into my pants first. It’s the dominant one.”
I don’t know why, but I get it. “Did you play piano?”
“Briefly.”
“I was the nerd with the clarinet. Also briefly. I wasn’t good enough to make the marching band. Do you know the whole song?” I ask.
Deacon holds out his hand. “Give me your arm.”
My mouth goes dry, but I hold out my arm. He takes my left hand in his, and with the fingers and thumb of his right hand, he plays the song on my forearm, humming softly as he goes. It’s an upbeat tune for the most part, not as melancholy as I expected.
“How old were you?” I whisper as he plays, each touch setting a new group of cells on fire.
“Ten when I quit.”
“You learned this when you were ten?”
“It’s easier than coding,” he says before going back to humming, ending the song.
I only realize I’ve been staring at his face when he lifts his eyes, and they meet mine.
Suddenly we seem much too close. His gaze drops to my mouth, and all the ways I ever pined for him feel like they’ve concentrated themselves into a ball of deep, deep want, and it’s lodged in my throat.
He shifts subtly forward, and I hold my breath. His gaze drops to my mouth. Quickly, I pull my arm away and stand. “Want some water?”
“Um…I’m good.”
I’m already halfway to the kitchen. “I’m thirsty.”
“Did I make you uncomfortable?”
“I’m okay.”
“I’m sorry if I did,” he says.
My heart eyes are back in full force, but my mind is a fucking brothel. “Do you ever play video games? I know you don’t like TV, but—”
“I haven’t in a while, but it sounds fun.”
Fun. I’m more fun. All of a sudden, the word has a whole new meaning.
“I got a new game I haven’t had a chance to play yet, so if you’re determined to hang around…”
“Sure,” he says. “And yeah, I’m pretty determined.”
I’m not even going to try to understand what’s happening. If my experience with Deacon and Isaac taught me anything it’s that life is much easier when I go with the flow. “Okay. So do you want anything to drink?”
“Water sounds good.”
I pour two glasses and set them on the coffee table before I connect the PlayStation and load the game.
It’s a dystopian first person shooter with killer graphics.
While I do have to sit on the couch to see the TV properly, I make sure I’m a few feet from Deacon.
I don’t trust myself, and I’m not sure I can trust him not to do something stupid, either.
Within about thirty minutes, we’re totally absorbed in the world of the game and carrying on a conversation that flows with a perfectly normal rhythm and banter.
“I think this is one of Millie’s,” Deacon says at some point during the second quest.
I immediately have to put down my controller and google it. “You’re right. I thought there was something familiar about it.”
“Kinda like her tattoos, right?” he asks.
I study the graphic style, the flowers in the landscape in particular, and it’s undeniable, the mark she left on the game. “Never tell her I said this, but I swear this makes her ten times cooler.”
“Agreed. And I won’t say anything.”
After an hour, I decide this is probably the best time I’ve ever had with Deacon, including the times we’ve had sex.
For the first time ever, it feels like his guard is completely down, and he’s just saying whatever pops into his head in whatever way it comes out.
He’s laughing, making sound effect noises, and occasionally standing so he can “have more accuracy.”
My face hurts from smiling.
And then we get to the sex scene.
Granted, it’s a hetero sex scene, and not porn level explicit, but there’s a hand job, an implied blow job, and a passionate horizontal interlude with highly realistic sound effects.
I keep my controller on my lap to hide my erection.
Deacon just adjusts himself and drains what’s left of his water, but his gaze is as glued to the screen as mine is.
“Wasn’t expecting this,” he says as it goes on. “The creators must have been really proud of it.”
I try really hard not to think about Millie having anything to do with this part. “I kind of saw it coming when they met in the underground bar,” I say, staying on topic.
“It’s literally long enough to jerk off to.”
“I think that was probably what they had in mind.”
“If you were by yourself—”
“Yeah,” I say. “Would’ve worked on me.”
“Me too.”
Great. Now I get to picture Deacon pulling his cock out of his pants and rubbing one out.
I sneak a glance at him but look away when his gaze slides up my body to meet mine.
This reminds me too much of the way things started with Hunter.
We were playing a video game, too. It wasn’t this explicit, and we were sitting closer together, but the tension in the air was about this thick.
“I get that you don’t want me to touch you, but for the record, it’s not easy,” Deacon says.
I flush harder than I’ve ever flushed in my life. “You have a boyfriend.”
“Then why do I want you so bad?”
“Deacon, please don’t.”
“I won’t. But I actually do know why I want you, and it’s not anything to do with how big those cartoon girl’s tits are.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
But of course, this is Deacon, and if he wants to do something, he’s going to do it.
“I think this is in another note, but I really like the way you get me. Isaac gets me too—like he knows what I need, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.
Like I could say the most random thing ever and you’d be like—yeah.
Same. I also like that you let me help with your program and you aren’t kicking me out.
I’m gonna offer to drive you to your mom’s tomorrow, you know? ”
“I already have a flight.”
“Then I might insist.”
“Why?”
“Because I miss you, and I like being around you again. Also, I’m gonna try to convince you to have dinner with me and Isaac before you come back to LA.”
I groan. “Oh, God, please don’t do that.”
“You only don’t want me to do that because you know you’ll say yes, and you’ll start to question everything, but that’s okay. If you don’t ask the questions, how can you get the answers you need?”
My lips are pursed tight in an effort not to freak out or break down. I’m so tired. It hits me how exhausted I am, not just from being woken up in the middle of the night but from trying to start a new life while fighting all the feelings I tried to leave behind.
“See? I get you, too. Let me drive you to your mom’s,” he says softly.
The sex scene is over, and we’re good to start playing the game again, but I’m genuinely on the verge of tears.
“Give me your hand,” he says.
The command in his tone is painfully familiar, and it’s something my body can’t help but respond to. I reach out and place my hand in his, knowing he won’t try anything. He squeezes tight. “I don’t think you belong here, Evan,” he says quietly.
Those are the words that break the dam.