“Don’t I? Sorry.”
He’s still leaning against me for support, and as I turn to him, a smile sweeps across his face. He looks like he’s thought of something really clever to say.
The curls in his hair are messy from running his hands through them repeatedly after we got deep into our drinking. His hazel eyes glisten in the security light that hangs beside the gate. I detect something in his gaze, something I’m used to seeing in guys or girls who are interested in me, like he wouldn’t mind if we fucked around right now.
Surely, Jordan would have mentioned that his roommate was gay. But maybe he’s in the closet. I figured he would have mentioned something when I was talking about him getting laid, but he gave an ambiguous reply.
I’ve never done anything with a guy before, though. I’ve been around some guys I thought were hot and wouldn’t have minded doing things with, but nothing ever happened.
Should I go for it? Kiss him and see how he reacts? But if I’m misreading his being drunk for being interested and go for it, I could be in a shit-ton of trouble. And I’ve already pissed Scott off enough as it is with my antics. There’s no need to make him pissed about something like that if I’m wrong.
But maybe…
I’m about to lean in and just go for it when he shifts his gaze to the gate. “You gonna open this up or what?”
“Shit, of course.”
I’m glad he interrupted me. I’m not thinking this through. Even if he is interested, I could be putting Jordan in a really awkward position. What if we fucked and things got weird?
I could have made a massive mistake.
Regardless of whether or not Scott would be interested, maybe it’s better that we just be friends. I’ve never been good at being able to be friends with girls and hook up. I have to hit it and quit it. If we did anything, I imagine I’d push him away like that too.
Not that anything else could happen. And I’ll be out of here in a week and probably never see him again, but why play with fire?
I lead Scott back to the apartment, and when I open the door for him, he releases me and starts inside. He stumbles into the living room and falls onto the couch. “Oh, shit.”
I close the door, head to the recliner adjacent to the couch, and collapse onto it.
“You know how long it’s been since I’ve been this drunk?” Scott asks.
“How long?”
He glances around the room, as though he’s searching for the answer on the wall. “Eight months ago… after I broke up with my ex.”
“Fuck, really?”
“What about you?”
He’s so carefree right now, so far away from that version of himself who seemed all uptight and rigid when we first met and he gave me such shit about fucking Tara. I like this side of him. It arouses me even more.
My dick’s getting hard. I figured I would have whiskey dick after all we had to drink, but it’s as functional as ever, and it’s not helping that he looks so fucking cute lying on that couch, his muscles tight in the sleeves of his polo.
I’m not ashamed that I’m attracted to him, especially when he’s like this—uninhibited, free.
He chuckles. “It feels good. I need to do this more often.”
“You’re hot,” I blurt out.
His eyelids flutter a bit before he turns to me. “What did you say?” Judging by the expression on his face, he doesn’t believe what I said.
“You’re really hot.”
He stares at me. He doesn’t even blink. It reminds me of that morning when he was looking at me in the kitchen.
“Whoa, you must be really drunk if it’s taking you that long to process that.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself, just lying there with his mouth hanging open.
