Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
DANIEL
It’s still hot as the sun slowly sinks toward the horizon, and I stop to admire the gorgeous array of colors. My body is pleasantly tired from a long day of work, but I love it. Sun, fresh air, dirt, growing things. Why can’t everything be as uncomplicated as farming?
Sighing, I let myself into the chickens’ yard.
Most of the girls have already put themselves to bed, but Lottie is stubbornly scratching around still.
She does it in an effort to prove to me and Ewan that she’s boss.
It’s why we always wear boots in here—she’s been known to take chunks out of unsuspecting human ankles.
I herd her into the smaller coop that holds the henhouse, and close the gate.
This coop is completely enclosed in chicken wire, including from the top, and the fence has concrete foundations to prevent any enterprising varmint from trying to dig in.
When I first started here, the inner coop was the only one, and there were a lot fewer chickens.
Expanding that meant a bigger shelter for them, which reduced the amount of free space in the coop for them during the day.
So we built the bigger “day” coop around the inner “night” one. A simple, sensible solution.
I sigh as I make sure the gate to the outer coop is latched too. It seems like nothing’s that simple anymore.
I trudge toward the cottage and chide myself for being dramatic.
Aside from demons maybe invading, my life’s not that complicated.
Sure, realizing I’m bisexual has thrown me for a loop, but at least I’ve got friends who can support me and no concerns that I’ll face bigotry at work.
That’s miles better than what a lot of people have to deal with.
There’s just been a lot of information to process in the past two days, and with it now being Friday night, things aren’t going to slow down until Monday.
So I’m processing on the run. It started with the kiss.
I still can’t believe I just kissed Skye like that.
I’m not the kind of asshole who goes around kissing people without knowing if they’re interested in being kissed, and yet that’s exactly what I did.
He was going to kiss my cheek—I knew that.
He’s done it a million times before. Skye’s an affectionate little kitten, and we’re friends.
So why did I turn my head? And when I realized what I’d done, why didn’t I step back?
Because I didn’t want to. That kiss was… mind-blowing. And he didn’t back away either. If Johnny hadn’t come in… I don’t know. I don’t think anything more would have happened, but I could have gone on kissing Skye for days.
Next was a long talk with Ewan, where I was completely honest and told him I might have a thing for Skye, and did that make me bi or something else? He told me only I could decide that (not helpful) but that I could consider whether I found other men attractive, even in an objective sense.
I stomp on the doormat outside the cottage to shake the dust off my boots, then go in. It’s empty, since Ewan’s staying with Josh tonight and the ghosts have been using up their manifesting energy helping out during the day. We should have thought of that years ago.
Boots—off. Pants and shirt—off. I slump on the couch in my boxers and stare at the dark TV.
When Ewan suggested I might already find men attractive but just hadn’t thought of it that way, I scoffed.
I know when I’m attracted to a woman; wouldn’t it be the same with men?
He gently pointed out that it was unlikely my feelings for Skye just suddenly began when our hands touched—that was just when I realized.
Because all my life, I’d thought I was straight and framed every interpersonal connection within that.
And he’s fucking right.
My best friend in ninth grade, Deshawn? I did everything with that guy, saw him every day, talked to him on the phone when we were apart, always wanted to spend time with him, missed him like crazy when my family went on vacation…
but that’s how it is when you’re really good friends with someone, right?
Except, I felt the exact same way, did those exact same things in tenth grade with Bella, my first girlfriend who I was convinced I’d love forever.
The difference wasn’t in my feelings… just the fact that Deshawn was a guy, and I’m not gay.
Once I started thinking about it, more and more things like that surfaced from my memory.
My favorite football player when I was in college?
Mediocre. Average at best. My friends couldn’t understand why I was such a fan, and I kept insisting he had promise.
That he was on the verge of developing into a great player.
What he was, was my celebrity crush. Smoking hot. Jesus, I even had a picture of him on my dorm room wall. How is it that nobody suspected?
Other friends throughout the years, men I was “drawn to” because they “had charisma.” I had no trouble labeling those same visceral responses to women, but always found some stupid excuse when it happened with men.
I can’t believe I was so willfully blind.
For fuck’s sake, I perv on Ewan all the time.
I’m not attracted to him, but I still like looking at him when his shirt’s off.
Even with Skye, all these years… I knew from the moment we met that he was “my people.” Realistically, there’s no reason for us to spend so much time together at work.
I don’t see the other house staff that much.
We’re opposites in almost every way—I was telling him about my camping vacation once, and he said his ancestors evolved so he’d never have to sleep on the ground.
And yet, I’m drawn to him all the time. I tease him, do my best to make him smile, rile him up just to get his freaking attention…
I even ruffle his hair, for fuck’s sake.
I’ve been acting like a seven-year-old with a crush for years and never even realized. How pathetic is that?
But now that I have realized… what do I do?
I grab the remote, turn on the TV, and pick up my phone to cast from one of the apps I downloaded yesterday. It’s time to see how I react to gay porn.
An hour and an orgasm later, I have the answer to that.
It felt weird at first, but then I realized it might be because the guys in the video did absolutely nothing for me.
So I spent some time browsing and picked one with a guy who…
well, in the past, I would have said he had “a charismatic smile.” His smile is a little like Skye’s, actually, although they don’t look alike otherwise.
And yep, that video was fucking hot. Short, though, so I went looking for others. I had to make sure it wasn’t just a fluke, right?
It wasn’t.
I turn off the TV and clean up, then flop my head back against the couch and consider the ceiling. I’m definitely attracted to men. Watching men fuck turns me on and gets me off. The next question is… do I want to fuck a man?
Yes!
Okay, subconscious, thanks for that quick and very emphatic response.
Unbidden, an image of Skye rises in my mind’s eye. He’s sweaty and panting, his hair falling forward to frame his face as he hovers above me… rides me. His pupils are blown, face contorted with—
I look down at my lap, where my dick is saluting eagerly through the fly of my boxers.
Getting up, I put my clothes and boots on, then flip off the light and leave the cottage. It’s cooled down slightly outside, but not that much, and any other night I might have walked slowly or stopped to take in the evening.
Not tonight. The only way I could have made it to the house faster is by running. I swipe in through the staff door, then go upstairs, the sound of my footsteps drowned out by the guests’ laughter. I’m not sure what they’re doing in the library, but they’re having a great time.
In the attic, I hover nervously outside the door to the crash room. I don’t know for sure that Skye’s in there. Maybe he’s downstairs with the guests? Sometimes they like the staff to hang with them.
Or he might be in there but not in the mood for company. Then what?
I make myself knock before I can talk myself out of it.
He opens the door a few seconds later, dressed in… are those Mr. Men pajamas?
A chuckle bursts from me, and I relax slightly. It’s Skye.
“Hey.” He’s surprised to see me. “Everything okay?”
My nerves come back. “Uh… yeah. I need a favor.” I wince. Not the best opening line. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” He opens the door wider. “You sure you’re okay? You look kind of freaked.”
I walk past him into the room and turn to face him as he closes the door. “I’m not freaked. Well… only a little. I’m trying to work shit out, and…” Wow, I’m so bad at this. “I need to kiss you again.”
He freezes midstep. “Say what?”
“Or you to kiss me,” I hurry to add. “Whatever’s best for you. So.”
He sinks down to sit on the end of one of the beds—the neat one, I note. The other one is all rumpled like he was lying on it. “That’s the favor?”
I shrug. “Yeah.”
His nod is slow and somewhat dazed. “Okay. Um… could you walk me through this? Like… what outcome are you expecting here?”
“No outcome! No expectations. Just a kiss. That’s all. I would never expect you to do more than that as a favor. I mean, you’re—” I cut myself off as his lips curve up in a smile. “Oh. You didn’t mean… expecting.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I meant why do you want to kiss me? Or for me to kiss you?” he adds when I open my mouth.
I hesitate. This is harder than I thought. How honest should I be? It’s Skye—he’d never want to hurt me. But isn’t that part of the problem? If I tell him I have feelings for him, will he kiss me even if he doesn’t want to, just to avoid hurting me?
“I want to try kissing a man,” I say instead, hating myself for every word. “Properly. Intentionally. I know I can trust you. But I don’t want to if it would make you uncomfortable.”
Something crosses his face, so fast I’m not sure what it was. A trick of the lamplight? Whatever, it’s gone now, and Skye’s face is strangely impassive. I’m not used to seeing him this way, without every emotion broadcasted to the world.
He stands. “Okay.”
Did he say…?
“Okay?” I ask cautiously as he closes the distance between us. I start to sweat.
“Yeah, sure. We’re friends, right? I get it—I understand some of what you’re feeling right now. You need someone safe to try this out with, and I’m honored that you trust me that much.” The last few words seem to quaver, but his face still gives nothing away.
“I don’t want to do this if it would make you feel bad. Or if it’s going to make things weird between us.”
He rolls his eyes, mutters something I don’t quite catch, then grabs the front of my tee and yanks me down.
Our lips collide, and it’s exactly like I remember from the other night, only better.
Because this time it isn’t a mistake. It isn’t sneaky.
It’s Skye kissing me because he intended to kiss me.