I settle in to rest my head on Jared’s chest as he strokes my hair and we continue to come up with funny last words.
I love how each time I make him laugh, I can feel the vibrations through me.
It’s like his joy is traveling through my bones, rearranging my molecules into a happier pattern than they’ve been in for months.
Chapter 8
The next few weeks are amazing.
Sex with Jared when he was a hookup was spectacular. But this, sex with Jared when he’s my best friend, is out of this fucking world.
There’s just so much like between us. I think that must be the element that makes it so different.
When someone genuinely enjoys your company with clothes on, it apparently makes the clothes-off part spectacular.
Laughing and teasing are now included in the hotness. And we’ve developed our own ridiculous code words for things like calling lube “friendship enhancer” and making each other crack up at the worst possible moments. We have competitions to see who can keep a straight face while the other person does their worst sexy voice, which usually ends with me doing a terrible Batman impression while naked and Jared almost crying with laughter.
We now know each other well enough that he can tell when I need soft and slow versus when I need to forget my own name.
I’m trying not to let my epic sex life distract me too much from focusing on my placement because it’s the lead-up to crunch week, when the vet clinic owner is going to be on-site.
Jared’s instituted a rule where I have to study before we fool around, which is the best motivator for studying ever invented.
We’ll often cook dinner together at my place so Patches has company, and afterward, we’ll sit at the table together while he does his paperwork and I learn the correct way to identify different types of parasites in fecal samples, which is exactly as glamorous as it sounds.
Although, half the time, it descends into funny jokes between us about the differences in animal and human anatomy.
We spend twenty minutes debating whether having a cloaca like birds would be more or less convenient than the human setup.
“One hole for everything seems efficient,” I argue, and Jared looks genuinely disturbed.
“That’s where you’re wrong. Separation of church and state, Felix. Some things need their own dedicated exits.”
Or when I mention that male cats have backward-facing spines on their penises, Jared actually puts his hands over his crotch like he’s protecting himself from the very concept.
“Evolution really said fuck you to female cats,” he says, and I can’t disagree.
Then there’s the fact that horses can’t vomit, which leads to a whole discussion about whether that’s better or worse than humans who can’t stop vomiting after too many shots.
So I’m feeling fairly confident that I’m doing everything I can to be ready to impress the big boss next week.
But halfway through Friday, I’m not feeling quite so confident anymore, mostly because my head feels like someone’s using it as a drum kit and my throat has decided to audition for the role of sandpaper.
“Are you okay, Felix?” Melissa asks as we’re finishing restraining Mrs. Patterson’s ancient dachshund for his arthritis injection. “You don’t look so good.”
“That’s just my face. I can’t change it,” I reply.
Melissa rolls her eyes. “I mean, you look like you’re not feeling well.”
“I’m sure it’s just allergies.”
She gives me a stern look. “Go home, Felix. Get some rest. It’s a big week next week.”
My body is aching as I get into my car.
Dammit. I don’t want to be sick right before the most important week of my placement. But even more than that, I don’t want to miss all the fun times I planned with Jared this weekend.
But by the time I get home, my skin is feeling too tight and too cold at the same time, so I concede defeat and message Jared.
