57. Tom Cobalt #3
“Beck, I love you. Je t’aime avec la force de mille frères.
” I love you with the strength of a thousand brothers.
“Nothing would change that. I know I am a broken dam when it comes to everything about my life, but I don’t expect that from you.
Okay? You do not have to share with me who you sleep with, dude.
” My face twists. “Even if that someone is Leo.” It seems so unbelievable.
Beckett has powerful dancer lungs, and he sounds out of breath right now.
I start feeling protective. “Has he hurt you?” My eyes flame. “If he has, Beckett—”
“No. I hate him, but…I also enjoy fucking him.” He searches my face for my reaction.
I am stunned. In neck-deep shock.
“A hate fuck,” he says like that’s going to make sense to me.
“I don’t really know what that means,” I admit. “Like rape—?”
“No,” Beckett forces, his eyes blown wide. “Consensual sex. It’s always consensual.”
I rub the spot between my brows. “I guess I’m realizing why you never told me. I’m handling this so well.”
“That’s not the reason.” His gaze is pained again. “It’s not because I thought you’d react poorly. I’ve wanted to tell you…there’ve been so many times I almost did.” His normally composed voice carries a tremor.
It’s hard to breathe. “You were scared I’d tell Eliot?” I ask. “Because I can keep a secret from him. You know, we aren’t the same person. We don’t share a brain—”
“Tom.” My words hurt him even more. “I know what it feels like to be lumped in with someone. I’m a twin. I’ve never, not for a single fucking minute, seen you and Eliot as one person. I never will. It’s not why. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.”
I try to relax.
“It’s felt like…” Beckett wants to touch his hair, but he notices his black leather gloves.
Ones he must’ve put on to shake hands with strangers tonight.
He tugs them off, finger by finger. “It’s felt like an unraveling, and I just couldn’t get it out.
And it’s made me…” He stares at the floor, sliding the gloves into his back pocket.
“Made you what?”
“Feel like a horrible brother to you.” His bloodshot eyes tunnel through mine. “You’ve sought advice that I could’ve given—that I wanted to give.”
My jaw unhinges. “I might need that chair,” I say as realizations rock me. “Holy shit…” I thread my hands on my head. “You’re way more experienced than I am…this whole time? How long?”
“I’ve had casual sex with men for a while.”
I blink hard. What the fuck? “Leo isn’t the only one?”
“No, he’s not.” Beckett slips his bare hand through his dark, wavy hair. “But he is the first guy I ever slept with.”
I’m pummeled with the truth. My brain cycles through so many questions, but I land on this one, “When?”
“I was nineteen. So was he,” he says. “I was his first experience with a guy too.”
“Five years ago?”
“Almost six.”
Right. I drag my hands down my face, hoping this all sinks in soon. “You’ve had anal sex? Like received? Given?”
“Both,” he nods.
I think out loud, “You’re not straight.”
“I’ve never really thought of myself as anything. I just fuck who I fuck. That’s it really. It’s simple to me.”
Our dad is very similar, so I ask, “Does Dad know?”
Beckett shakes his head slowly, but then says, “I suspect he does know.”
I nod. “Because he knows everything.”
“Because he sensed something between me and Leo. The same way I think Phoenix must have too. Honestly, I’ve really only ever told Charlie everything.”
I push my hair back a few times, trying to process. My gaze rises back to Beckett’s with a much deeper question. “Do you love him?”
His brows spring off his face. “Leo?”
“He was your first, Beckett.”
“It’s not romantic. It’s sex, Tom.”
I think about me and Phoenix, and sleeping with him has never been unemotional or purely physical. I can’t imagine having sex with him like that.
But I know Beckett has been into casual sex with zero commitments since forever. “Okay, yeah.” I worry, “Is this triggering your OCD telling me everything?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay,” I exhale a tight breath. “Okay, good, because tell it to fuck off. We’re having a one-on-one here, and it’s unwelcome.”
Beckett starts to smile. “I’ll let my mind know.”
“Good,” I nod. “Fuck OCD.”
“Fuck OCD,” Beckett agrees deeply, his eyes glassing. “Je t’aime avec la force d’un million de frères.” I love you with the strength of a million brothers. “Pas seulement mille.” Not just a thousand.
It almost breaks me. “Well, now I have to go up to a billion.”
He laughs, and my lips lift. Nearly at the same time, we converge into a hug. I embrace him a little tighter than usual, gripping the back of his suit jacket. I feel his arms strengthen around me.
All this time.
I take a much deeper breath. His chest rises like he’s taking one too. Beckett draws back just a bit, his gaze softening on mine. We’re eyelevel, exactly the same height, and he says, “Charlie and I really like him. Phoenix.”
I let out a skeptical noise. “Charlie doesn’t like anyone.”
“He likes him enough.”
“Because Phoenix got me to throw out my Adderall,” I realize.
“Not just that,” Beckett states, smiling again. “Ever since we met him, he’s been genuine with his feelings, never really guarded them.” He nods to me. “I also like that for you. I can’t imagine you being with someone who would guard themselves.”
It swells up inside me. My nose flares, and I let out a little laugh in thought. “Who knew I’d end up with a bleeding heart?”