It felt too awkward.
He interrupted me when he knocked on my door. Then I saw it in his eyes. Heknewwhat I’d been doing.
Not that I have any shame about masturbating. Not really. But when I’m jerking off to mental images of him with his hand and mouth on my cock, his voice whispering dirty words of encouragement, his tongue sliding up my slit, tasting me... and then I’m too embarrassed that he caught me in the act to give him the comfort heneedslater, with everything he’s goingthrough...
Hell, those texts from his mom . . .
And not just that, but also having to deal with work, starting this new job when it’s hard for him to even be around people thanks to his awful anxiety. Then having to live with the fact that he was basically kicked out onto the street, yelled at and chased out of his home by the man who abused him for years...
I couldn’t even help him. God, what the hell kind of best friend am I?
I blow out a long breath, and even though my body still feels weak and shaky from my climax, I manage to pull myself up out of bed, wipe the cum off my stomach with a T-shirt that’s in my laundry basket, and then sneak down the hallway to the bathroom to clean up better.
A few minutes later, I’m crawling back into bed, under the comforter, and I swallow and turn over to face the wall, closing my eyes.
I see him again, tense and unsure, his eyes filled with pain. He was nearly begging me to help him, and I was too distracted and embarrassed to see it, to act, to give him the support he needed.
I see him again, walking away.
And I screw my eyes shut.
Never again.
There’s a conviction to my thought, and on impulse, I turn over and grab my phone from the nightstand. I set an alarm for seven, which—dammit—is only about three hours from now. Then I type out another text.
Alex (3:57 a.m.):I can’t wait to see you in the morning
I don’t give myself a chance to worry about whether that’s theright thing to say. I hit send, set the phone down, and roll back over to face the wall, pulling the comforter all the way up to my chin. Then I close my eyes and try to convince myself to fall asleep.
Myalarmgoesoffright at seven. I’m not sure how much sleep I actually managed, but I drag myself out of bed without hitting snooze, take a quick shower, and get dressed. By the time I’m heading down the stairs, it’s easily about seven twenty, and I’m hoping I still have enough time to make breakfast before Nico wakes up.
He didn’t text me back, which isn’t unexpected. Hopefully he’s just been sleeping. But I’m still worried, and I still hate how I hadn’t handled things well last night. All of yesterday, actually.
He deserves better from his best friend. And I will do better.
Starting with food.
“You’re up early!” My mom’s standing in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter and sipping from a cup of coffee as I jog down the stairs.
She’s right. This is much earlier than I’ve been getting up since summer started. But I just shrug as I approach.
“I wanted to get going early today,” I say. “Lots to do before this afternoon.”
I stop just on the other side of the kitchen island as she eyes me with that... look. I’m not sure how to describe it. It has to be something only moms are capable of. Her eyes seem to see right through me, right into the heart of what’s bothering me. Which isn’t cool because I’m not ready to talk about anything yet. I frown and look down at the floor, avoiding her gaze.
“Todayisbusy,” she agrees, her voice soft. “But if you need totalk, aboutanything, you know I’m never too busy for you, right?”
I know that, and her words remind me that yesterday was about more than just Nico. My conversation with Jenna is still weighing on me, too, and yeah, it would be really nice to have someone to talk to about that. That’s for later, though. Right now, I have something I need to do, and what will likely be an emotional coming out conversation with my mom isn’t it.
I lift my eyes and force a tight smile. “I might take you up on that later,” I say, and she smiles and nods.
“Just as long as you know—”
“—that I can talk to you about anything. Yeah, Mom, I know.” My smile loosens a bit, and she seems to chuckle as she sets down her coffee mug and then pushes away from the counter.
“I need to get to the grocery store and then start cooking. Jerry and Thelma will be here probably around three. They’re staying in the extra bedroom for the weekend. Then Erica and Corrine are expecting to get here sometime before dinner. They’ll take the pull-out couch.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I can remember exactly who Jerry and Thelma or Erica and Corrine are. Cousins, probably. “Sounds good. I’m just going to make some breakfast for Nico and then—” She gives me a look again, her eyebrows lifting up in tandem, but I ignore her this time and continue. “Andthen, I’ll get started on the last of the laundry, changing the sheets and blankets and stuff in the extra bedroom, and the other chores on your list.”
