“Is that an invitation?” I ask, my gaze fixed on his lips. I’m joking, but kind of serious at the same time.
He doesn’t seem to get what I mean. Damn. I was fucking wrong.
I’ll play it off. He seems fairly oblivious right now, so it won’t be a big deal. Hell, he might even forget by tomorrow. “I’m shittin’ you, man.”
His cheek twitches, and he smirks. “Oh. Shitting me? Got it.”
He eyes me suspiciously. Like he doesn’t believe me.
Now I know I’ve made it awkward.
“God, I should get to bed, I guess.” I start to get up and head for Jordan’s bedroom.
“Were you making fun of me?”
I turn back around. “What?”
His forehead is scrunched up as he slides his legs off the couch and stands. “That was a dick thing to say.”
“I didn’t mean to start anything.”
Fuck. Now he thinks I was being an asshole? I can never win with this guy.
“I’m sorry, Scott. I didn’t meant to—”
“I don’t need a fucking apology. I actually thought we were having a good time tonight, and then you start up that bullshit. Why are you making fun of me?”
Oh, shit. He feels like I was calling him gay. If I did that to some of my friends back home, I could see them acting the same way. Defensive. Freaking out.
“Can we drop it?” I ask.
He approaches me quickly, and I back up against the wall, not because I can’t take him, but because I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to get into a drunken brawl in the middle of his place. Then I really will have to stay at a hotel for the night.
But the angrier he looks, the more I want to kiss him to diffuse all this tension.
“You think it’s funny that I’m gay? You think my life’s been easy because of it?” His words are severe, but now I’m really fucking confused.
“Wait. No, I was saying—”
He holds his finger in front of him like he wants me to shut my mouth. “Oh, you were just shitting me? You know, Jordan at least has the decency not to fucking insult who I am.”
Now I’m starting to get pissed.
“How the fuck did I insult you? I called you hot. I said I was joking because you acted like you weren’t interested, okay?”
His brows push together as he looks even more bewildered than before. “Why would you call me hot? What could you possibly have to gain by saying something like that?”
“Have you never had a guy find you attractive?”
His expression relaxes, as though he’s starting to listen to what I’m saying, as though it’s taking some time for his drunk brain to realize what’s going on. “You’re not straight?”
Is he really this dense? I lean into him and whisper, “If I’m attracted to you, I must not be entirely straight.”
His gaze wanders like he’s still trying to figure it out, so I decide to make this a lot easier on him.
I move quickly. Easy to do with my liquid courage.
And holy shit, his lips feel so good.
