Just when I’m sure he’s about to touch me, about to hold meand make me feel protected and safe, he scuffs his foot into the floor and backs away several steps. “I, um, have some money from graduation and helping out my mom,” he says. “Would that help you? How much do you need?”
I can’t answer because I can’t really breathe. I just shake my head. Then I turn and grab my phone, stuff it back into my pocket, and push away from the counter, too confused and too tired to deal with life anymore today.
“I’m going to bed,” I tell him, and I start walking toward my bedroom, shrinking in on myself more with every step.
There’s part of me that’s still expecting him to follow—to come after me and stop me and remind me that we’re supposed to go get ice cream. Harley’s. Because mint chip.
But there’s another part of me that knows that’s not going to happen.
I make it all the way to the bedroom, and it’s not until I shut the door behind me and collapse onto the bed that the little bit of hope I had disappears.
Chapter Sixteen
Alex
Ican’tsleep.
Every time I close my eyes, all I see is Nico shaking his head and walking away from me in the kitchen, his shoulders slumped in defeat. It’s been hours, yet I can stillfeelthe pain—his pain—when I failed him. He confided in me. He shared those texts from his mom with me, showing me even more of the awful shit she was throwing at him. And when he needed me the most, when he needed me to be there for him and help him, I failed, too embarrassed or guilty or whatever the hell is wrong with me right now to let myself comfort him.
I check my phone for the millionth time, but the last few messages I sent him are still unanswered.
Alex (7:15 p.m.):im sorry i was being weird. r u ok?
Alex (8:23 p.m.):i can still grab ice cream if u want. harleys is open until 10
Alex (11:44p.m.):r u awake?
He’d usually text me back after that last one, no matter his mood. An eye-roll emoji and something sarcastic, likeNo, I’m totally asleep. See? Snoring away for hours now.
So maybe that means he is asleep. Or maybe he’s even more upset than I imagined.
And that means I really, really need to figure out how to fix this—whateverthisis. So, I lie there staring at the wall as more hours pass, trying to think of something.
I come up with absolutelynothing.
I could help him with the money, sure. I did get quite a bit from my grandparents for graduation, and I’ve been saving almost everything for the last few years when I’ve worked for my mom. But he already turned that down once. Plus I’m pretty sure that’s not the whole problem. Or evenmostof the problem. It’s something else too.
Like the fact that he needed me to be there for him, and I... couldn’t.
My chest tightens, and I roll onto my back to stare at the ceiling a bit, just for a change of scenery. That doesn’t exactly help, though. It just rewinds the day a little more, back to the moment right before he knocked on my door to tell me dinner was ready.
I was lying here just like this, my knees bent up, stroking myself while I pictured him leaning over me, his hand on my dick, then his tongue—
“Ah, fuck.”
I lift an arm up and muffle another curse into my elbow, but I can’t stop my dick from responding. I’m already hard, and the images in my head just keep coming, even as I try to stop them. Nico lifting his beautiful green eyes to look at me, his lips stretching around my cock, then his hand following up and down as he bobs his head to take me in all the way. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes dilated, and—god—his mouth pops off me long enough forhim to whisper in a low, hoarse voice, “Come for me, Alex.”
With a groan, I bend one knee up and reach down to slip my hand under the waistband of my briefs, unable to resist the urge to finish what I started earlier. A sharp breath escapes me as I slide my palm down my length and then wrap my fingers around the base of my shaft. I try to push away the thoughts of him, but I fail at that too. It’shishand,hismouth,hisheat.
“God,” I hiss into my elbow, screwing my eyes closed. My fist moves, pumping slowly at first. Slowly and then a little faster and a little faster as the pleasure and tension build. There’s a familiar tingle, like a warm shiver racing down my spine, and I groan again, pushing my head back into my pillow.
“That’s it. Come for me, Alex.”
Ah, hell.
My hips jerk up off the bed as my dick starts to throb with my release, warm liquid shooting out onto my stomach, and I turn my head to the side to muffle a moan against my arm.
I lie there for several minutes afterward, coming down from that high as my breathing slows back to normal. There’s a layer of guilt wrapped around me, and I can’t make myself move to go get cleaned up. It seems bad of me—wrong to have been picturing my best friend pleasuring me as I jerk off. And it’s even worse because that’s a big part of why I failed him earlier.
