I’m trying hard not to spiral or put pressure on him, but I can’t say it doesn’t hurt me. It does and every day, it hurts me a little more. I wish I could talk to someone. Don’t know who, though. Obviously not my mom or Greg. Or Gould or Chase. Gould would be ridiculous about it and Chase has been super weird about everything recently. I have a feeling he doesn’t really like Jessie. He was pretty rude to him the last time he came over. He probably wouldn’t be the best person to talk to. I feel weird talking to Izzy about Jessie, too. Ordinarily she’d be the person I’d go to with something like this. I don’t know exactly what was going on between them at the beach, but I sure as hell didn’t like it. I don’t want to get her involved if I can help it, which sucks, as she’d probably have the best advice for me out of everyone.
I bet she’d give me some off-the-wall advice. I bet she’d say something like, “Dude’s trying to fuck with you. Fuck him back harder.” She loves saying things like that.
Maybe that’s what I should do.
All thoughts of doing anything sensible or otherwise regarding Jessie evaporate to nothing the second he sits down in the living room. He’s been out with his dad, and it’s been a couple of hours since I’ve seen him. I guess they went to the beach, as they both look windswept. Jessie’s lips and cheeks look pinker than usual. If you took away the ripped jeans and the slouchy beanie and added a crisp white tank and a pair of boardshorts, he’d look like the kind of guy whose happiness is dependent on how big the waves are any given day.
“Are you guys okay ordering something in? Tacos, maybe? We’re meeting the Maliks for racket ball and then we’re going out for dinner,” says my mom.
Jessie’s eyes flicker. Green then blue. He gets me on his wavelength, and he holds me there. I can’t look away or swallow. I try to sit very, very still. When I can’t take it anymore, I get up to head back to our place. He glances up at our parents and when he finds their attention elsewhere, he reaches out, quick as a cat, and taps my dick. I sit down heavily, rendered entirely braindead by a single touch. He understands. He knows exactly what he’s done to me. He doesn’t even try to hide his smile. It creeps up his face, twisting his mouth up at the sides and creasing his eyes deeply.
Fuck knows why, but when he treats me like this, my dick loses its mind. My face bursts into heat and I sit there trying not to squirm. He likes it. He likes seeing how much he’s turned me on. The thing is, I want to see him turned on like this too.
Wanna play, Jess?I say with my eyes.
He considers me and gives me a slight nod. Cocksure doesn’t begin to describe the way he’s looking at me. It inflames me and sets caution on fire. I know what I’m going to do. I know exactly what I want and today I’m going to take it. Right now I don’t care about consequences. My mom leaves the room to get ready to go out. I wait. I don’t move. I wait until Greg looks away then I look Jessie dead in the eye, and mouth the words, “Wanna fuck?”
His eyes fly open, and he sits up straight. He looks around wildly, checking to see if Greg’s looking. He isn’t.
“What?” he chokes out.
“Do you,” I point at him very deliberately, moving my mouth in an exaggerated way, “want to fuck me?”
He sits there catching flies. I love it. I feel dizzy from the power of it. I’ve finally managed to affect him as much as he affects me every time I come within twenty feet of him. Jessie’s phone lights up on the coffee table. I see his mom’s name on the screen. He doesn’t move to answer it.
Greg starts to head upstairs. “You boys have fun tonight.”
“Oh, we will,” I smile at Greg. When he’s out of earshot, I say, “You should get that, Jess,” indicating to the phone. I lower my voice and my gaze. “I’m going to our place to get ready for you.”
By the time I hear him opening the guest house door, I’m on my bed. I’m still warm from the shower. I’m wearing a pair of gray athletic shorts and nothing else. I’m lying on my belly with my laptop open in front of me. I hear him approach, quiet footsteps on the wood floor. He pauses at my doorway, the way he always does. I look back and give him an up-nod and what I hope is an obvioushow you doin’look. He stands at the doorway for so long, I start thinking that maybe this time he really won’t come in. He has one hand in his pocket and a faraway expression on his face. He’s looking down at his feet. His hair has fallen into his face, creating a dark screen for him to peer through when he finally looks up.
“What’re you reading?” he says at last.
I show him the screen. I’m reading an article titledHow to Make Bottoming Better.
He keeps his face passive, but the sinew in his neck tenses.
“I read that one too,” he says quietly. He walks over to the bed and lies down beside me. We’re both on our bellies, propped up on our elbows. One side of my body feels warm from being close to him.
“You been reading up on this?”
“Maybe.” He nudges me with his shoulder, and I nudge him back. I try not to grin like a complete dork, but I’m wholly unsuccessful.
“Have you read this one?” he does a quick search and pulls up an article. I skim through it. The language is serious and staid, the writer seems hellbent on leaving readers with no doubt that he’s a medical doctor.
“Dude sure likes using the word sphincter, huh?” I say.
Jessie giggles. It’s a sweet, soft sound that makes my legs feel lame. “Yeah. Seems kind of partial to orifice, too.”
We read side-by-side, but now every time either of those words pop up, we both cackle uncontrollably. By the time we get to the end of the article we’re a heap of laughter. The article finishes with the most cringey line ever written, “Congratulations, you have just received your first penis.”
We’re in stitches. Jessie’s eyes are streaming and I’m laughing ugly. My face is contorted, my lips are pulled back over my teeth. I know I look ridiculous but I can’t stop it. We laugh until we’re spluttering. The laughter dies down abruptly. Hilarity one second, heavy silence the next. I glance over at him. He’s gnawing his bottom lip and watching me thoughtfully. I answer the question I see in his eyes before he asks it.
“I’m sure.” He bows his head and after a few seconds, he plants a light kiss on my shoulder. “I want to do it, Jess, and you’re the one I want to do it with.”
He keeps his head where it is, close to mine, warming me and sending slow waves of arousal rippling through me. “Are you nervous?”
I lean in so my temple is pressed against his cheek, and I nod quickly. He nuzzles into me, warm breath on my skin, soft lips on my neck, then he looks at me. Blue-green eyes pierce me. It’s the most unguarded I’ve ever seen him.
