“Have sex with guys?” he asks, eyeing me skeptically. “That didn’t seem to be an issue for you when you were sticking your ass out and begging me to get inside.”
His words remind me of how much I wanted to be his—totally his, having him owning my ass.
“That’s not what I meant. I just don’t hook up. Normally. When I’m sober. And I… couldn’t stop drinking those damned shots. And then—”
“Then you asked me to fuck you. And then we got off two more times.”
I reflect back on each fuck session and how good they felt.
I’d feel better if I had at least blacked out. Then it wouldn’t feel like I had actually participated in making him get off with me again and again… oh, and I can’t forget that last “again”.
“I don’t hook up like that normally, and I’m not interested in doing anything else. It complicates things, and if it gets weird, Jordan is in the middle of it, so can we pretend it never happened?”
He stares at me blankly. I’m trying to figure out what he’s thinking, but I don’t fucking know.
“Totally,” he says, his voice deep, almost a growl—one that gives me a little chubby.
I’m not as relieved as I thought I’d be by getting that off my chest. I feel like an idiot for turning down more sex with Mikey, but it’s the right thing to do.
Despite how cool Mikey’s acting, I have this awful feeling that somehow Jordan will know when he gets back later today. That he’ll have this feeling that something happened between us. All I have to do is remind myself that there’s absolutely no reason for him to suspect his seemingly straight brother would have done anything with me.
“I think I’m gonna hit the gym before I head to the airport,” he says, avoiding eye contact as he heads to his room.
I can tell he’s bummed, probably because he really did want to go again, and I did too, but it’s not like he’s going to have a hard time finding some other hot lay.
I’m just another notch in his headboard. Someone who won’t even cross his mind once he’s on to the next one.
11
“You guys have a good time while I was gone?” Jordan asks as he sits in the passenger seat of my rental car.
“Yeah,” I say through gritted teeth.
I’m not mad at him. I just can’t get over what a total asshole Scott was this morning.
Really? After we had such hot-ass sex, he wants to say fuck it and pretend it never even happened? Didn’t he enjoy it as much as I did? He sure as fuck seemed to love the way it felt.
“Haven’t gotten to do all that much,” I say. “Just trying to figure out this situation with Kate.”
“Sorry about that,” he says. “She made me keep it a secret. She didn’t want you to find out over the phone.”
He wears a polo and cargo shorts with a Braves baseball cap turned backwards. His skin’s tanned to a nice bronze color. We’re not the sort of family that burns easily in the sun. I imagine he was red for a day before his skin changed to that nice, even color. He looks totally relaxed as he slumps back into the seat.
“No, I totally enjoy being lied to,” I add.
“We didn’t technically lie. Technically, we just neglected to tell you.”
Then I guess I care even less about not telling you about how I fucked your friend.
Not that it’s even any of his business to begin with, because if I thought it was going to affect him, I’d be out with it.
“Oh, yeah,” I tell him. “That makes me feel a hell of a lot better. Thanks.”
“That’s not an easy thing to say over the phone. You don’t think I was feeling the same thing when that happened? You think I was excited about facing Mom and Dad after all this shit came back up? And we knew you’d be the worst of everyone.”
“The worst of everyone? Because I actually remember what it was like when Dad left us. You guys were five and six. I was the one who would walk into Mom’s room and catch her crying. I was the one who saw the dead look in her eyes when she wandered around lifelessly, incapable of making a decision because she was trying to figure out how she could kill her soul enough to stay with that bastard. And then she finally did kill it.”
“You’re being a little overdramatic about this whole thing.”
