Chapter 20
Rowan
When I wake up with Circus wrapped around me, my first instinct is to freak the fuck out.
My hangover is a bitch though, and doing anything more than moaning in self-pity seems like too much work.
“Don’t panic,” Circus hurries to say.
“Panic?” My voice goes up a notch. “Why the hell would I panic?”
He pushes up onto his elbows and looks down at me with sleepy eyes. My focus immediately drops to his lips, and I remember the kisses in vivid detail as though they happened only minutes, not hours ago.
Pressure clamps down on my chest.
“You’re panicking.”
“No …” I fight that evil voice back. It’s trying to make me feel ashamed.
But Circus’s face is winning. “I’m … struggling.
I don’t want to freak out. I’ve …” I pause, not sure how much to tell him.
How much pressure would I be putting on him to say he’s the first and only man I’ve ever kissed? The first dick I’ve ever touched?
“So, here’s the thing,” I say. “Last night … I’ve never done that before.”
“Gotten drunk and hooked up with a guy? Shocker.”
I want to swat him on the ass, but I can’t bring myself to do it. “Kissed a man, other than that one time with you. Touched. Any of it.”
His eyebrows creep up. “So what have you done?”
“I’ve had my dick sucked a couple of times.”
Circus bursts out laughing. “Aww, have I popped all your same-sex cherries so far?”
I groan and bury my face. “Maybe not the time for jokes?”
“It’s always time for jokes.”
I groan again.
Smooth fingers ease my hands back down. “Okay, real talk. You’re not allowed to overanalyze. It happened. It was perfectly normal. And it felt incredible. Especially the part where your hand was around my dick.”
“You’re not going to let me off easy, are you?”
“Hey, I’ve waited five years for that. I’m going to enjoy it, thanks.”
“Yeah … I’m going to try to.”
Circus leans down and leaves a soft kiss on my cheek. “Don’t stress. It doesn’t have to mean anything. I know where you’re at, and I get that it was one of those drunken decisions that probably wouldn’t have happened if we were sober. But it did, and it is okay. Promise.”
I focus on my breathing, just in and out, waiting to see if the disgust is coming. As long as I don’t think about it too deeply, I seem to be fine. I’m coping. And each time a flash of a memory sneaks through, I’m reminded of how insanely hot the whole thing was.
And how I want to do it again.
But I’m a lot more sober and one hundred percent more hungover, so it’s probably best not to push anything today.
Besides, we leave for LA in a couple of days, I’ll have plenty of time to think things through before I go.
A round two or three or whatever seems like an excellent idea now, but the problem is, I’m still no closer to coming out than I was a month ago, so starting something, with someone as special to me as Circus already is, wouldn’t be a smart move.
I sit up and the whole room spins as my head gives a massive throb. “Motherfucker.”
“You’re going already?”
“Yeah. I need to shower. Get yelled at for leaving church. Get questioned about where I spent the night and then get ready for work.”
Circus drops back against his pillow and tucks his hands behind his head. “You could … spend the night again.”
His face is so open and hopeful it kills me to turn him down. With my heart in my throat, I lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead. “Not tonight. I’m going to need a little time just to make sure I’m okay. I can’t think about anything right now with this headache.”
He hurries to nod, and I have no idea how he can manage it after the amount we drank last night. “I’ll think of you going through all that pain while I nap the rest of the day away.”
“Asshole.” I laugh as I nudge him and force myself to stand.
Then I glimpse my clothes. “Well, those are for you to deal with.” I grab the zebra-print shorts he laid out with a flamingo-patterned shirt.
Dear God. Holding in a sigh, I pull them on, adding getting questioned about whose clothes I’m wearing to my list of things to do again.
I turn back when I reach the door, wanting to say more than some lame-ass excuse about how I’m sorry I can’t stick around and just enjoy a post-sex morning with him.
How I’m sorry I still have so many issues.
The same issues he had to deal with in high school.
I leave him with a smile, and me with a whole world of regret.
“Rowan Alexander Harvey, there you are!”
I’ve barely stepped foot inside the house when Dad’s voice reaches me. I cringe, before turning and making my way into the living area.
Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa are wearing matching looks of surprise when they see me. And can I blame them?
The buttons on the shirt are still undone, and I couldn’t quite get the one on the shorts to fasten. My hair is a mess, my stubble looks untidy, and I’m pretty sure my skin is a sincere shade of green.
And I have zero shits to give.
I need to shower and get the cum out of my pubes because those fuckers pull with every step.
“Where in God’s name have you been?” Dad demands.
Here we go. “Out.”
They wait.
“Where exactly is out?”
“A friend was having a rough day, so I went to support him.”
“Which friend?” Mom asks, rubbing her temples.
And I know I could lie. I know I could throw the name of anyone in town out and they’d believe it. I could tell them it was an old friend from the football team, and my homophobic grandpa would assume only totally straight-guy stuff happened.
“Circus.”
And as expected, my grandpa lets out a splutter. “Why on earth were you with someone like him? Is that why you left church yesterday? Are you a sinner now, boy?”
I grit my teeth and try to keep my cool the way Circus did at Leita’s barbecue. “Yesterday was the anniversary of his parents’ death. I kept him company, we drank too much, and I …” Okay, now for the lie. “I threw up on my clothes, so he lent me some.”
“I knew it. Alcohol and parties …” He rounds on my mom. “See what you let this boy get up to?”
“I’m not a boy. I’m a grown-ass man, and if I want to skip out on church to support my friends, you’re not going to stop me.”
I tear from the room before they can say anything else. And also before I can cry, because all that will do is piss him off more. Crying is for girls.
Motherfucking fuckers.
I slam my door and turn the lock just to make sure no one comes near me. I’m way too hungover for this shit, and the knowledge that I’m going to pay for this later slides down my spine.
Right before I’m hit with the most obscure thought:
What the hell can he do?
Sure, he throws out mean words and looks down on me and influences all of Mom and Dad’s decisions. Grandma will never speak out against him, and if he knew who I really was, I’d probably never see them both again.
It would hurt. I know that.
But I also know Leita and Piper well enough to be sure they’d come around. Mom and Dad are the real wild cards. They’re the giant question mark that’s hanging over my declaration, and honestly, if they turned their backs on me … that’s the part I’m not sure I could get past.
But I’m so. Damn. Tired.
I’m tired of hiding and fighting with myself. I’m tired of not being able to find someone I can fall in love with and plan a future around.
Fueled by my anger, I pull out my phone, pick out one of the photos I took of Circus last night, and take a moment just to appreciate the way my heart gets an extra boost of life at the sight of him.
Imagine what it would be like to have that every day.
And selfishly, I want it.
Waking up next to him this morning was like waking up but realizing you’re still dreaming. Even now, it barely feels real.
Though this damn headache has a lot to do with that.
Considering we’ll be playing up the whole fake dating thing in LA, I can only imagine our hotel room will have one bed, which means I’m going to get to experience that again, and again, until we come back here.
Again.
To this house.
Where I’m starting to feel distinctly unwelcome.
I stare at the photo for a minute more. His smile, my hand in his hair. I look happy.
I upload the photo.
Sometimes the answer is staring you in the face.