Connor knows what he did to me. He must because afterward, he tends to me like I’m wounded. Like I’m broken and need to be put back together.
He scrapes up all the splintered pieces of me and puts them back into place.
I lie there and let him.
When I’m semiconscious and back in my body, I find myself on my side, facing him. He looks calm and serene. Eyes drooping slightly. Lips, as always, curled into a smile.
I reach up and trace his smile lines. The ones near his eyes first, and then the ones at the corners of his mouth.
They deepen as I do it.
I trace the seam of his lips next. His top lip rests lightly on the bottom. They’re darker than usual. Kissed, bitten, and fucked. Despite the fact that he just broke me, and despite the fact that I don’t even know how many times I’ve come tonight, seeing his lips and thinking of them like that turns me on.
My dick twitches helplessly as I watch my thumb press his bottom lip down. There’s a hint of enamel. A slick sheen. A wetness that’s his and mine.
He raises a curious brow but doesn’t move a muscle except to part his lips slightly and show me his tongue. That turns me on too.
I lean forward tentatively, my own tongue extended, and groan loudly as I taste what I gave him.
40
Lennon
“Lennon,”Annasaysina no-nonsense voice I’ve come to admire and fear in equal measure. “May I see you in the small breakout room, please?”
There’s an energy of extreme professionalism about her that gives me pause. “Uh, sure. What’s it about?”
She smiles tolerantly. “I’ll tell you in the small breakout room.”
Bev is absorbed in a phone call with her husband, Mal, and Blake wouldn’t give a shit if someone dropped a bomb in my lap, so I don’t even bother looking to him for help. Left without a better option, I get up and follow Anna to the meeting room.
She closes the door, professionally, and spins around to face me. There’s a wild-slash-unhinged flare in her eyes that’s worryingly triumphant. It alerts me to the fact that I’ve walked into a trap.
She pulls out a chair for me, sits down herself, and says, “Spill.”
“I, er, what do you mean, Anna?”
“Lennon,” she says with a firm head tilt that lets me know there’s no way out of this room that doesn’t involve me telling her what she wants to know, “you look happy. What in the world have you been up to?”
It’s nice of her to put it like that. I appreciate it, especially since how I really look is wrecked. I look sleep-deprived, cum-drunk, and dehydrated. There’s a dopey expression on my face I can’t work out how to erase, and when I went to the restroom earlier, I noticed a bright-pink stubble rash on my chin.
I look exactly like what I am. A man who’s had his life turned upside down by another.
“I’ve been kissing Connor,” I say in a rush. To my endless surprise, the words pour out of me. Not only because she asked and I’m not thinking straight, but rather, I realize, because I want to say them. I want to hear my voice saying those words. “That’s it…that’s what I’ve been up to.”
Her face changes. Stern to infinitely supportive in a split second. “I didn’t know you were bi, Len.” I hate it when people call me Len, but I decide to let it go because of the confessional tone of the meeting and all that. “But I’m here for itobviously.”
“I, um, I’m not. Or, I wasn’t… What I mean is, I am, I definitely am bisexual. I just didn’t know for sure that I was until I met Connor.”
What’s interesting about the conversation is that Anna and I are both finding out things about me at the same time.
“Oh my God. Sorry! I didn’t mean to bully you into coming out. I’d never want to do that to anyone. That’s your story to tell whenever you’re re—”
“No, no,” I say. “I don’t mind.” As I say it, I discover I mean it. I don’t mean it a little. I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I wasn’t bullshitting when I said I’m not homophobic, and my feelings on the topic extend to myself as much as they do to others. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being attractedto a man. Not for others, and not for me either. “It’s not a secret. I might not have known it for sure, but now that I do, I don’t feel any need to hide it.”
“Well,” she exclaims, “I for one,lovethat for you. Connor is such a sweetie pie. I can totally understand what happened there. Oof, he’ssocute, right?”
I think of the way he looked when I left home this morning, standing on the balcony watching me walk to my car. He had his hands on the railing like a man looking out to sea. Looking at something vast and endless. He wasn’t though. He wasn’t looking at the horizon or at the ocean. He was looking at me. He was wearing a hoodie and sweats, and his hair was a mess, and he looked fucking gorgeous. “Yeah. God. He really is. He’s…one of those guys that gets hotter every time you look at him.”
