13. Sullivan #2
In my post-orgasm haze, I allow myself to remember with no small pinch in my chest that I thought Knight and I would hook up again. That I’d get to be his favorite secret and even his best friend. It was all stupid. An immature desire to bond deeply with someone who felt like he wanted that, too.
But he had the football team, and in the end, who the fuck was I except some dude who gave him head and was along for the ride, swept up into a night full of hope and nostalgia for everything we had to look forward to and all we were finally leaving behind.
We all knew we’d become different people. Independent and free for the first time ever. I assume we all had ideas of who that person would be, and I guess that version involving Knight ended up being mine.
It lasted about a week.
A week of him seeing me in passing occasionally at the dorm, vaguely acknowledging me, never alone, and giving me the impression he appreciated my existence and what we’d done, but that was about it.
Honestly, it didn’t even feel like a rejection. It made sense. Two different worlds and all. Gabe did his best, and there was never any friction for two whole semesters between anyone on our hall, but in terms of more bonding experiences with all of us involved? No, there weren’t any more of those.
If that night at the abandoned house hadn’t happened, I doubt we would have even run into each other this summer, either, or sought the other out.
In the weird morass of my thoughts, I dislodge my dick from his ass with a careful hand on the condom and roll away from him. “I’m gonna take a shower if that’s okay.”
“Sure,” he says weakly from behind me. I don’t look back as I head into the bathroom where I ditch the condom and step into the warm spray of water.
The bathroom itself is nothing impressive.
It’s small, but it’s been updated in keeping with the rest of the house.
There are some classic touches like a small hexagonal floor tile and subway shower tiles with dark grout.
A spa-like experience, it is not, but that’s fine by me.
Any reminder of Adrian’s spa treatments aren’t welcome in my head tonight.
Using Knight’s body wash helps. It has that woodsy, leathery scent, and I cover myself in it.
I don’t know what I’m expecting when I come out of the bathroom. I didn’t think I was expecting anything in particular, which is why I don’t know why Knight sitting on the edge of the bed, his pants back on but still bare-chested, waiting for me sort of surprises me.
“Can we talk?” he asks. “I’ll still do the algebra, but before that…”
“Yeah,” I say. “What’s up?”
He pats the mattress next to him. I’m already dressed again, too, so I sit.
“Thank you,” he says.
“For...?”
“That was pretty fucking incredible. For me anyway.”
I’m not gonna sit here and gush over how good it was for me, too, for a thousand reasons, but I’m not gonna make a joke about it either. “I’m glad.”
He huffs. “Okay cool.”
All right fine. “It was good for me, too,” I admit. “Very.”
He goes on, and I let him because I can’t imagine how much this guy needs to get off his chest. “I’d been thinking a lot this summer that I might not ever get to have sex, so to have it and have it also be good and…with you… Anyway, thanks.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“Yeah, I guess not, but still. It’s kinda how I am.”
“I like that about you,” I confess.
“Yeah?”
“There’s a lot to like about you, Knight.”
“I’m not sure how you can say that. I basically avoided you all year.”
Sounds like we really are on the same page. “I wouldn’t say that. We live in different worlds is all.”
“But we come from the same one.”
“I wouldn’t say that, either.”
“So, in terms of what I asked before. Was this a one-time thing?”
“You tell me, champ.” I want him to say it’s only the beginning.
He rubs at his cheeks. “I’m asking what you want.”
“Without telling me what you want. Fair. Okay. Look, I’m not any less attracted to you if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m not any less attracted to you, either.”
Why that whole statement comes as a total shock to me, I couldn’t say.
Maybe I thought I was convenient? Pushy.
Sexually aggressive, and he was putting up with it because he’s hard up?
Attraction wasn’t in my calculations, though.
I feel so much less attractive now than when I first met him.
I’m underweight, I have sketchy tattoos, my hair is longer than it’s ever been, and I don’t take care of it at all except to keep it from smelling bad.
And so, like word vomit, I say, “You’re attracted to me? ”
His head pops up in surprise. “Of course I am.”
I don’t ask why because I don’t want to know his answer.
If he points out any physical aspect of my appearance I’ll begin obsessing over it until—I don’t know what.
It won’t be healthy, though. And besides all that—we’re not a thing, him and me.
Not outside of this extreme privacy that really doesn’t exist outside a town like Sunrise Point, which his family basically owns, and I’m invisible in.
“No, that’s cool,” I say. “I’m not sure why I asked that. Anyway, back to the point. I really fucking liked what we just did there, and against the door and under the table, so in terms of repeats, I’m down.”
He laughs quietly. “You’re down, huh?”
“Sure. I’ll fuck you whenever, wherever, if you’re up for it.”
“As long as you pass algebra, though, right?”
“I thought that went without saying.”
“What about your girlfriend?”
My girlfriend. Right.
I have this theory about myself that if I allow myself to go unchecked, I’ll turn into a really bad person without even realizing it. Knight is pointing out a way I can avoid that in this situation.
“I think I’m more likely to tell her what happened than not.
I won’t name names or anything, you never have to worry about that, but she’s pretty open-minded.
She could dump me, and I’d have to find a new place to live next semester, but that won’t be an issue.
” Thanks to Adrian. “But there’s a chance she’ll be okay with it.
” I shrug. “I’m curious what she’ll say. ”
“Do you feel guilty?”
It doesn’t take a whole lot of soul-searching to answer that. “No. Does that make me an asshole?”
“No, but why wouldn’t you feel guilty?”
“I’m not like in love with her.” Now I wonder if that makes me an asshole.
“And she’s not in love with you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I don’t know. Is there some way I should be able to tell other than the words getting spoken out loud?”
“I have no idea,” he says.
“Yeah, so I guess it’s more like we get along really well and have fun together and—”
“Have sex,” he inserts.
“Yes, we have sex, but we’re not like all over each other all the time trying to inhale each other. We go out, we hold hands. We dance—like regular shit, too.”
“So, what makes her your girlfriend and not a friend with benefits or whatever?”
“I’m not really good at essay questions, either,” I hedge. “We spend a lot of time together.”
“And? I spend an unreasonable about of time with the twins—”
“Are they fucking you, too?”
He laughs.
“So, I guess that’s the difference,” I say.
“So, am I your boyfriend now?”
He gets me there. I laugh, too, in a way I haven’t laughed in a while. “Just my algebra tutor. I promise,” I say through the breathy bursts from my chest.
“Tutor, huh?”
“Proxy. Whatever.”
“Do you want another drink while I make you look smart?” he asks.
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
We leave the bedroom behind, me with my backpack, the lube tucked inside, and him with his shirt on.
After he takes the remaining quizzes, I thank him, pack up my laptop, give him a quick kiss goodnight and leave while things still feel good with us. He lets me go without any fuss, thanking me, too.
I call Chelsea from the car, in no hurry to get home. My mind is still loose from vodka and sex with Knight.
She answers on the first ring, so at least I know I didn’t wake her. She’s breathing a little heavy. “Hey.”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Cleaning the bathtub. It’s gross.”
“It’s also midnight.”
“I mean—it wasn’t gonna clean itself, and I like a nice bath. You can thank me when you move in.”
Chelsea and her friend Harrison have already moved into the house we’ll share back at school.
It’s an older house just west of campus that’s been rented out to many generations of students already.
I don’t remember the bathtub specifically, but I do remember thinking it was obvious that a lot of people had called that house home over the years.
“Anyway, what’s up? How are you?” she asks.
That’s always a good first question to ask me. I’m considered moody by anyone who knows me for any length of time, and on any day I could ease into a conversation or stare stonily at nothing until people stop bothering trying to talk to me. “Okay,” I tell her. “It’s been a decent week.”
“I’m still so happy it went well with your dad. Have you talked to him again?”
“No, no. I had to start my algebra class, so I’ve been dealing with that.”
She makes a noise of displeasure. She knows how much I’ve been dreading this fact of my fate. “And? How is it so far? Anything clicking?”
“I got a tutor.” That’s an easy enough way to introduce the conversation.
“Online? Or do you know someone back home?”
“Turns out I know a guy here. He’s good at math, and I ran into him the other day. He offered to help.”
“Yay! So far so good then?”
“Yeah. Hey, I have a question. It’s gonna sound sort of deep.”
“Okay, hang on. Let me find my vape. I don’t wanna do deep without my fidget toy.”
I wait as her feet fall on hardwood floors, a door creaks open, and then some mattress springs squeak. She inhales deeply, and it sounds like she’s breathing through a mask. Her exhalation is slower and softer. “What’s your question?”