“And now? Movie time?” he asks hopefully.
I feel my shoulders sag in something like defeat but it also feels good, like surrender. “Yes, I would like to watch a film with you. I could… I could even make some popcorn?”
“Now you’re talking!” Marcello rubs his hands together. “In the living room?”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer. He turns on his heel and walks out, leaving me standing in the middle of my bedroom feeling like a fool. A fool who still has a very big hard-on.
Chapter Twenty-One
Marcello
I’m definitely bisexual.
Those are the exact words I texted Kris in the bathroom after I’d cleaned up and got dressed following The Best Blow Job Of My LifeTM. I’d stared at myself in the mirror while waiting for her reply, which I knew was coming when I’d seen the three dots appear almost immediately.
She’d replied.
Fucking amazing, I’d wanted to say. But I didn’t, because even I knew it wasn’t fair or accurate to summarise my entire minutes-long experience of queer sex based on one mind-blowing blow job.
I’d texted back instead.
Kris had replied with a rainbow emoji and that made me smile.
I’m still smiling now as I sit beside Giles on his sofa watchingThe Mummyof all things. But I’m not smiling because of the rainbow emoji. I’m smiling because as I watch the film I have even more confirmation that I’m very, very bisexual.
Brendan Fraser? Hot.
Rachel Weisz? Smoking.
The bald baddie guy? Scorchio! He could tie me up in a pyramid any day of the week.
I turn my head to tell Giles just how stupid I’ve been not realising that all those moments when I thought, “Wow, that’s a good-looking guy.” in my past were actually thinly veiled, “I wouldn’t mind kissing his face off.” fantasies, but I see he’s asleep. His head tipped back against the sofacushion, his mouth slightly parted and his eyes firmly closed. Soft snores leave his lips as his chest lifts and lowers in a steady rhythm.
Fuck, he’s even handsome when he sleeps.
Because I’m not brave enough to do it when he’s awake, I lift my hand to his face and cup his cheek. The beginning of his afternoon stubble tickles my palm and he flinches slightly, his moustache twitching, but I don’t let go. I hold his face and smile at him in a way I wanted to after he’d given me that bone-shaking orgasm, but couldn’t, wouldn’t. Because if I did that, then he’d know that these sex lessons are not for a man who wears Speedos at my swimming training sessions. They’re for him. They’re so I can feel close to him. They’re so I canbeclose to him.
And I don’t want that to stop.
So maybe it’s just as well he’s asleep so I can’t admit just how certain I am that I’m bisexual, just how happy I think I am now I know that truth about myself. Because if I have that answer, then surely I don’t need to explore and experiment with these lessons anymore. Perhaps he would then decide that it’s better I go on an app and find other men to play with, but that’s not what I want. I want Giles.
That might make me dishonest and selfish and conniving, and I don’t feel proud about the fact.
But I want to keep doing what we’re doing too much to stop.
As long as Giles is happy to continue, that’s exactly what I want to happen. I want to be with him as long as I possibly can be. Until somebody comes into his life and catches his eye, and maybe his heart. Because I have no doubt that will happen eventually. He is the guy who gets stopped on the street and in the gym. And it’s not just about his looks. It's his kind heart, his confidence, his easy sense of humour. He's just toogoodto not get snapped up by somebody who’s just as good for him.
I remove my hand and turn my attention back to the film. It’s been so long since I watched it that it’s like watching it anew and I quickly become absorbed in the storyline. I should watch more films, I think to myselfwhen the credits start rolling. They help me calm my busy brain and take me out of my head. Also, I can now freely fancy as many of the cast members as I want…
Maybe one day I could take Giles to the cinema…
The thought arrives quicker than I can stop it by pointing out that that would be a date, and Giles doesn’t want to date a man like me. Sure, I might be fun to fool around with – he didn’t seem to hate sucking me off – but I know that he’s waiting for the real thing when it comes to relationships and I am so far from what that looks like for him. I am not good enough for a man like Giles. I’m not a bad person, I know this, but I’m chaotic and a café manager and living at home with my mum. I’m not in the same class Giles is.
This realisation pulls a deep sigh out of my chest, and it’s loud enough to have me looking at Giles to see if I’ve woken him up, but he’s still fast asleep in the same position.
Seeing our empty mugs of tea and the glass bowl we used for popcorn lying on his coffee table, I stand up carefully and collect them all, trying not to make any noise. I take them with me over to his open-plan kitchen, planning on washing up before I let myself out, but as I put them down I forget that his countertops are marble and the mugs and glass bowl make an almighty chiming din as they land. As I fear, it’s loud enough to wake Giles who grunts from behind me.
“Sorry.” I turn to wince at him. “I was trying to be quiet.”
