“Maybe you should.” He shrugs. “Maybe it’d help you figure some stuff out.”
Ben lingerswhen we get back to the house, like he’s babysitting me, making sure I’m okay. I appreciate it, but right now, I just want to be alone.
I make an excuse about being tired and go up to my room. At least I don’t have to share anymore like I did when we first moved into the frat house. Ben’s my best friend here, but he snores—and sometimes talks—in hissleep. Being woken up in the middle of the night by someone asking where their liver is gets old pretty quickly.
I open my laptop and make a big pretense of scrolling through my socials before clicking on what I really want to look at. I don’t know why I try to fool myself that I didn’t open my computer to look at porn.
I scroll through the usual videos of men and women, two women together. I don’t want to type it into the search bar, but I realize after not accidentally landing on gay porn that I’ll have to.
I type in ‘bisexual curious’ and a bunch of videos of women come up. I refine my search to ‘bisexual curious men’ and feel my heartrate quicken as the screen is filled with stills of naked men, doing stuff to each other.
I make sure my screen isn’t facing the door and my volume is on low, so if someone does just walk into my room—which happens—at least they won’t seewhatI’m looking at. I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed, and I don’t think I am. A little scared, sure. But I’m not that kid anymore who ran away from his best friend because he was scared of how he made him feel. I just want this to be private for now. Until I figure it out a little more.
I hover over a thumbnail of a guy with a shaved head, but before I can click on it, memories of Evan’s face after I told him I had a crush on him come flooding back. I scroll past that clip. Landing on two generic guys with dark hair and similar faces.
The two of them sit on a couch in a sparsely decorated studio, pretending to play a video game. One of them is wearing a generic sport’s jersey and the other a white tank top. Jersey says something about feeling kind of horny in the most wooden acting voice I’ve ever heard. Seconds later,they’re all over each other, making out and grabbing each other’s cocks through their sweatpants.
It’s stupid and the acting is terrible. The set looks like it’s going to fall down around their heads. But I’m so turned on, my cock is aching.
I unzip my chinos and slide my hand into my boxer briefs, stroking myself while I watch the two guys start to go down on each other.
I open the drawer beside my bed without taking my eyes off the screen and squeeze some lube out onto my hand before sliding it back in my pants. My cock looks obscene when I pull it out. Swollen and red and leaking already. I watch myself, the guys in the background, sliding my hand up and down the shaft, wondering what cock tastes like while the actors suck each other on the screen.
The camera zooms in on Tank Top’s face, his lips stretched around Jersey’s huge dick. Tank Top’s eyes roll back like he’s enjoying it and he moans around Jersey’s erection. I bite my lip and hold in a groan as my hips buck off the bed.
Tank Top pulls off and starts licking the other guy’s swollen head, lapping at the pre-cum beading from the other guy’s slit.
“Mm,” he says, pulling away. “That tastes so good.”
“I knew you wanted my cock,” Jersey says.
Holy fuck, this is hot.
Tank Top gets back to work, taking Jersey all the way into his throat, his eyes watering as he gags. Jersey growls and fists Tank Top’s hair as he thrusts into his mouth. Jersey pulls out, rubbing the head of his cock across Tank Top’s swollen lips and I want to shout at the screen for him to put his dick back in his mouth already. I was so close.
But then Jersey bends Tank Top over the table and abead of pre-cum leaks out of my slit. I rub my thumb over it and shiver.
Tank Top has this blissed-out look on his face while Jersey spits in his crack and starts fingering his ass. Jersey pulls his cheeks apart and the camera gives us a close-up I think was filmed at another time, the angle’s all wrong, but it doesn’t matter.
I didn’t think I was into close-ups of other men’s assholes, but.…
The camera zooms in on Jersey’s face between the other guy’s cheeks. He’s moving his face, his nose brushing against the top of the guy’s crack, and it stupidly takes me a second to realize what he’s doing.
Oh … ohhh.
Tank Top, still bent over the table, is letting out the filthiest, most blissed-out moans I’ve ever heard. With one more stroke, I come all over my hand and chest.
Fuck.They didn’t even start fucking each other yet and I came at the sight of someone eating out someone’s ass.
I slam the laptop shut and go to clean up.
We’re hostingHarvard tennis the next day, so at least there’s enough distraction to keep my mind off Evan for a while.
I get to the locker room early to have a moment to compose myself before the guys arrive. Try to soak up where I am. Remind myself of what Bryce said. I’m getting the opportunity of a lifetime here. Not many kids from where I grew up get an Ivy League education—in fact, ninety-nine percent of them don’t. Maybe I am spoiled? Maybe Evan can see right through me? It’s easier to thinkthat’s the reason he walked away, rather than think he was disgusted by my feelings for him. I know Evan isn’t hateful, but a lot of time has passed since we were neighbors. Who knows what has happened to make him jaded? Who knows what new opinions he’s formed? Even if he’s fine with me being bi, finding out your best friend for all those years had secret romantic feelings for you must be disorienting.
By the time Priestley and the other guys show up, I’ve composed myself enough to smile and act like everything’s fine.
We go out onto the court to meet Harvard in the next match of the Ivy League. This is the last tournament before regionals, and after that, we break for summer. I try not to imagine a whole summer without school and tennis to keep me occupied. Whatever vacation my mom and Bryce have planned. Since I was fifteen, we’ve been going on incredible vacations: skiing in Aspen, a cruise around the Mediterranean, driving sports cars down the Amalfi Coast. It makes my fists clench now just thinking about it. What was Evan doing while we were galivanting around Europe? Taking care of his sick dad and working long hours for minimum wage? Was he thinking about me? Did he miss me at all?
