I stare at my hands, covered in scars and ink, and the guilt just builds. He trusts these hands too much.
Even though he knows I’m a problem with legs. I’m twenty different secrets wrapped in a nice body.
I’m the guy mothers warn their sons about if they’re honest enough to know their sons might look.
This is the part where a decent person would stop.
Tell him to go home.
Tell him this is too risky, too messy.
Tell him to wait for someone who can actually show up for him without having to plan escape routes. Instead I’m sitting here thinking about how good he looks when he’s naked.
I hate myself a little for that.
Because how the fuck is he calm? My pulse is racing like I’m about to commit a crime.
If anyone finds out about this, it’s not just a breakup and sad playlists situation.
It’s reputations, families, futures. I can already see his dad’s face if he finds out that his son is sleeping with me now.
Not just the dad. The whole town. The other guys.
The ones who already want a reason to come after me. I know how this works.
You want to fuck with a guy like me? You don’t go for his bike, you don’t go for his money. You go for what’s soft.
This is exactly why I don’t do relationships.
Why I don’t do "more."
You don’t hand people the knife, you keep it.
You keep everything surface-level and physical so when it goes to shit, nobody knows where to stab.
He’s different.
I don’t think he’s built for these types of situations. He’s the type who’d want to bring the person he loves to dinner with his family. Introduce him to his friends. Let people see him happy without flinching. And I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to fuck him without getting him killed.
I know we’re different.
I’ve always known.
He believes in things. I believe in not getting caught.
He’s thinking about how to fit me into his life while I’m thinking about how to keep him separate from mine so he doesn’t get dragged down with the rest of the shit.
He talks about wanting to be a teacher like it’s this clear path. University. Internship. Classroom. Kids.
So what happens if they find out the safe adult spent his first time bent over for the "brainless biker" who can’t even put his real relationship status on social media?
It literally makes me sick.
Because I know people. I know how they talk.
They don’t say oh, how sweet, he was in love.
They sayof course he ended up like that, look who he started with.
