Chapter One
Remington is a 27 Year-Old Virgin
Remington Dockery wasn’t particularly fond of Callahan McMillian.
Or rather, he liked Callahan fine, but he was not a fan of the man’s best friend, Sebastian St. George, and wherever Callahan went, Sebastian seemed to follow. Sebastian, who wore the most well-tailored suits Remington had ever seen. Sebastian, who reeked of booze and entitlement. But there was something about him that piqued Remington’s interest, even though he knew better.
Heknewbetter.
Sebastian was straight and Sebastian was married, and Remington was neither of those things. Remington hadn’t even had sex before. Putting all of that aside, Sebastian had more money than he could ever appreciate, and Remington wasn’t making an assumption on that count. He knew it to be true because he knew Sebastian was the anonymous donor who had gifted a first edition printing ofTamerlane and Other Poemsby Edgar Allan Poe to the California Literary Arts Museum where Remington worked as an archivist.
An archivist in desperate need of a grant to justify continuation of his research, even though when he’d accepted the position at the museum less than a year before, he was promised the department had been funded. There was a strong and specific interest in early American literature, his future boss had assured him at the interview, and so Remington had made a proposal to his long-time roommate and best friend, Jace.
“Let’s move to California.”
Jace, who told everyone he had no family and no ties, jumped at the idea. The two of them packed up their life in Chicago and moved west. California was an easy adjustment for Jace, where Remington had struggled. He’d hoped that with there being more people, losing his virginity would have happened quicker, but everything had been perplexing and inexplicable.
And much like the rest of Remington’s life, that had been fine.
But then Jace met Callahan, and… well, everything changed.
With Jace spending time with his boyfriend andhisinsufferable best friend, Remington had found himself with far too much time on his hands and far too few hands on his cock. At least, there’d been plenty of his own hand, but not so much other people’s hands, which was what he was after the most.
Not that Remington was completely inexperienced. He’d done a lot of kissing, and even as he reminded himself of that, he knew how wrong it sounded. He knew how virginal that made him seem.
I’ve done a lot of kissing.
He’d done one kiss.
His freshman year of college, Marston Michaels had followed him out of the city to watch a meteor shower, forcing his attention away from the sky and toward thin, dry lips that Remington barely had a passing interest in. He’d wanted to watch the Perseids. He wanted to search out the swirls of the galaxy around the arms of the constellation and marvel at the resplendence of the night sky. But instead he’d ended up with Marston and his incessant mouth.
He’d tried to embrace it. Any other time he would have been overjoyed at the attention, desperate to move himself around the bases, so to speak, after being left in the virginal dust in high school, but he’d been waiting months for the meteor shower and couldn’t Marston just wait a few more hours? Couldn’t Remington have this one thing that he wanted and then have more?
The answer, as with most things in his life, was no.
His first kiss wasn’t like the kisses he’d read about in books. There had been no soft whispers, no tender touches, just Marston’s roaming hands and slimy tongue against his lips. Remington had endured it, which, in retrospect… He understood that first kisses weren’t meant to be endured. He’d learned a lot from books, but there was only so much words could teach him.
He’d known that, even then.
The books hadn’t even taught him how to say no. Marston had pressed him for more, and Remington had declined, earning him a flurry of muttered curses and accusations, and then Remington had been gracefully and peacefully alone again. He watched dust and ice streak through the night sky, lighting up like fireworks for the heavens, and he’d closed his eyes against his tears, blinking them back as to not obscure the view.
There had to be more out there.
The promise of love.
Of truth.
Remington had fallen into a bit of a depression after that, managing to scrape by with a 3.89 GPA and a PhD in Library Arts. He was introduced to Jace Dare shortly thereafter, and he knew he’d never recover. Jace was young and so much not like Remington that at first, he couldn’t find his footing with his new roommate, but he quickly grew to love Jace, just not…loveJace.
He often thought of ways his life would be easier if he could have fallen in love with his best friend, but Jace was wild and young, and his optimism contagious and glorious. Jace hadn’t had a simple life, and while he had his fears and his worries, Remington couldn’t remember a time Jace had ever told him no or shied away from a challenge or adventure.
Remington envied him.
But Jace had his freedom, and Remington had his degree, his job, his brain…his books. But as the years progressed, none of those things did anything to help him with the problem that plagued him the most.
His virginity.
Nearing thirty, he’d long passed embarrassment over his state of affairs, and he knew when he met someone he trusted enough, he wouldn’t even bother telling them about his predicament. He would just do what normal twenty-somethings did.
