SULLIVAN #2
“Not mean,” he corrects me. “Demanding.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“And I assume you’ve always been like this?”
“As long as I can remember.”
“What do you think about people like me?” I ask.
He glances up and stares a moment. “People like you—in what way?”
“People who ask other people to take their algebra class for them?”
“That’s not really the first thing that springs to mind when I think about you.”
I tuck that into my back pocket to bring up later. “In general. The lazy part that refuses to learn algebra.”
“I mean, I get it doesn’t come easy to everyone. I don’t judge if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What would you judge someone for?” I ask.
“Being unkind, I guess. Being hateful.”
“What do you think about someone who takes advantage of another person for their own gain?” Or pleasure.
“Is that who you think you are?”
I answer with a lofty sarcasm. “I am but a possibility. And that’s one of them.
But I’m not only talking about myself.” I’m thinking of Adrian and what he’s done to me.
How twisted up and confused he’s made me about myself.
About my body and my self-worth. About losing control of myself and trying to scrape it back by any means necessary.
Knight puts his fork down, wiping his mouth before dropping the paper towel on the plate. He served himself a plateful, and he’s barely eaten half. I’m no longer hungry either, and that’s probably due to the alcohol. It’s time to stop drinking. Switch to water.
“Do you judge me?” he asks.
“Why would I judge you?”
He sighs. “Can you just answer the question?”
I thought I had. “No, I don’t judge you.
You’re great. You’re in a tough situation where you have to choose which life you want, and your options are all incredibly different.
Whether I end up wanting to fuck men or women doesn’t change anything for me, and that’s the only thing I could even think to judge you for—whether or not you decide to be authentic in public, but what does that matter?
What right does anyone have to know you and what you want or need? ”
Knight stares at me, a shadow of shame on his face.
“They have no right whatsoever,” I tell him, answering my own question.
“It’s getting harder to lie,” he whispers.
“Why do you think that is?”
The way he looks at me now, with some probing energy and what I’m almost positive is lust or something like it—it makes me want him.
And not in some casual, playful way where I warm his cock while he takes another unit quiz, which was the idea I had after one screwdriver, but in the way that involves the condoms and lube I brought with me because I was afraid this might happen.
That I would grow to like and want him more than I cared about the fact that I have a girlfriend, and while he’d cooked, practically purring from my touch and my nearness—I convinced myself he’d want this, too.
“I wouldn’t want to hold anyone back,” he says.
“Back from what, though?”
“I don’t know. Living their life. In public if that’s what they wanted.”
“It’s hard for me to imagine someone wanting you and then giving a shit about needing to wave their pride flag around whenever they were around you.”
“No?” he asks with more of a challenge in his gaze. “I guess if you don’t follow the NFL at all, you’ll have missed how public the wives are about who they’re married to. They’re like first ladies.”
I laugh shortly at that. “What kind of person do you see yourself with, exactly?”
“I don’t see myself with anyone,” he answers, tone slightly morose. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”
“What about right now? I’m with you.”
“You have a girlfriend, and it’s not like anything can really happen.”
I smirk. “Define anything.”
He smiles, I think, in spite of himself. I’m asking about the one word, but it’s the “really” in his statement that does the most work. As though whatever might happen has to exist in a world that isn’t entirely real.
And honestly, I’m okay with that. I want him, yes, but I want Chelsea, too, and the way she is with me.
Unassuming and easy, responsive to what I need and casual about her own needs.
She’s curious about herself, actively exploring her own preferences and maybe even her kinks, but we haven’t really gotten that far.
We only just started identifying as a couple a few months ago, having been friends first.
I think, with a little vulnerable sharing on my part, she’d get it if I wanted to keep our relationship open.
And I don’t mean I want to necessarily be Knight’s guy on the side, although that is top of mind tonight.
It’s an offer I’m willing to make, and yeah, partly because I want his help with algebra, but also because good people shouldn’t be sad, and he’s both good and bordering on sad.
“Well, what do you think can happen?” he asks.
Another smirk from me. “Anything.”
“You’re fucking impossible.”
“You know, if you’re done eating, you should either take a quiz or give me a tour.”
His breath catches. “I’m fried,” he finally says. “I’m all over the place, and I can’t tell what you actually want with me.”
“I feel like I’ve been really straightforward about what I want with you.”
“Which part?”
I give him a break. “I’d rather have the tour. Is that straightforward enough?”
He opens his arms. “It’s just this and some bedrooms. There’s a great patio.”
That wasn’t what I was expecting. Maybe he’s too nervous. Maybe he’s already too sure of what he can and can’t have. “You’re allowed to say what you want. Even if you want me to leave. I’ll try not to take it too personally.”
He exhales, and his words tumble out with his breath. “I don’t want you to leave.”
I rise from the seat, needing to get out from behind the table.
Knight, I don’t think, will ever make the first move, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s shy or scared or a combination of both.
What I think is accurate is that he wants me, too, and that makes me more confident than I might normally be when I’m thinking of doing something I’ve never done before.
He looks up at me as I walk to his side of the table.
“Would you rather I get on my knees again? Because that’s okay, too.”
His dark eyes look hazy before he blinks them a few times. “You make me so fucking nervous.”
“Even after two drinks?”
“Yeah.”
I run a hand over his short hair, and he leans into the touch. “You want to tell me what you’re nervous about?”
“I like you,” he whispers.
“I like you, too.”
His eyes close. “I’m not sure it’s the same.”
“Can I be honest?” I ask.
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
“I feel safe with you,” I confess. “I want you to feel safe with me, too.”
“Okay.” He exhales shakily.
“It won’t hurt my feelings if you say no.” That might not be a hundred percent honest, but I want to give him an out he doesn’t have to feel bad about.
“Then what’s this? You want to fuck me, but you don’t have any feelings about it at all?”
“I just told you I did. I like you. I trust you. It doesn’t need to be complicated.”
“Right. It’s just like—a transaction, or whatever.”
“It doesn’t have to be cold, either,” I tell him.
“Would it just be a summer thing? A one night thing? Would it mean anything?”
“Do you need it to? Mean something?”
“I don’t know. I guess not.”
I check his crotch and see the enormous bulge there.
The sight stirs my own cock, and I notice with some alarm that mine is about to be pointing directly at his face.
I turn my hips because as much as I may want him, I don’t want to make myself that available.
“It could be just this one time,” I say.
“Or it could be the summer. I guess that all depends on how it goes, right?”
“And what about when we get back to school?”
“We’re never gonna see each other at school. We live in two different worlds there.”
He nods. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Come on,” I tell him. “This could be terrible. In fact, it’s more likely to be terrible than not if you think about it.”
“Is that your hard sell?”
I laugh. “Yeah.”
When he doesn’t move, I stop touching him. “All right. Well, I’ll give myself a tour. If I’m gone too long, come find me. Or don’t.”
“Sullivan…”
“Yeah?”
He stands. “I’ll show you around.”