Whatever. I got the heck out of there, stopping by the bathroom to wash away the remnants of cum on my hands. Inside my bedroom, I closed the door, peeled offmy dirty boxers, and changed into my pyjamas.
Then I got into bed and closed my eyes.
I couldn’t sleep. My body felt tired, the way it always did after an orgasm. My bones sank into my mattress and my eyelids felt heavy. But my brain was alive — rewinding every moment of what happened on the couch with Taylor.
How the hell had that happened? No. I didn’t want to think about it.
I pushed it out of my mind, yet I found myself straining to hear what Taylor was doing. There were footsteps, then the rush of the shower. Ten minutes later, he walked to his room and closed the door.
CHAPTER SIX
The Rematch
The next day, I slept in until one in the afternoon. The previous night, I hadn’t fallen asleep until three. I spent hours staring at the ceiling, and when I couldn’t sleep, I whipped out my phone and started googling stuff.
What does it mean when you come in front of another guy?
What does it mean when another guy coming makes you want to come too?
What does it mean when you find your roommate/arch-nemesis sort of attractive? Especially when he has his pants off and looks turned on?
Does jerking off with a guy make me gay?
I must have searched up questions for an hour, and spent another hour reading about similar stories on Reddit. It was a bit concerning how all the “I thought I was straight” stories finished with the storytellers getting fucked. But that wouldn’t happen to me. There was noway in hell I was letting Taylor fuck me. That wasn’t even remotely on the table.
In fact, last night we didn’t even touch each other. So there was no reason to worry.
Eventually, I got out of bed and had a long shower. The hot water quickly relaxed me. Weirdly enough, I felt energised, despite my awful sleep and anxious thoughts.
It must have been last night’s orgasm. It was pretty spectacular — I hadn’t come like that in a while.
I dried off and got changed into a shirt and some shorts. I was starving, and stepped into the main room, ready to make myself a large breakfast.
I held my breath as I stepped into the living room, expecting Taylor to be there. But…he wasn’t.
I let out a breath. Something almost like disappointment started to fill me, but I pushed that away.
No. Don’t think about Taylor, and definitely don’t think about last night.
Pretend that it never happened.
I didn’t see Taylor all of Saturday. I didn’t see him on Sunday either. Then it was Monday and the semester officially started.
I woke up early, and since I was bursting with energy, I decided to go on a jog around campus. The morning sun was warm on my face, and there was a faint breeze that kept me cool.
Afterwards, I showered, ate breakfast and headed to my first lecture. I arrived there fifteen minutes early, sat dead centre in the lecture hall and…
And then I had it. My first lecture. It was fine, mostly administrative stuff about assignments and classes and who to email if I had any questions. The lecturer seemed enthusiastic, which was good.
The rest of the day went by similarly. I got lunch and finished my last class by 4. Feeling a bit tired, I returned to my room and watched some YouTube to kill time.
Around 6, I decided to make dinner. I headed out to the kitchenette and started cooking some pasta when the front door swung open.
Taylor stepped inside and looked at me.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey.” His eyes lowered to the stove where I was boiling water. Then he walked away to his room. I listened for the slam of the door, but to my surprise, it didn’t. Instead, he kept his door open. A few minutes later, I understood why.
