I am the most cowardly, scummy, opportunistic lowlife to walk the face of this earth.
And that cowardly, scummy, opportunistic lowlife is currently touching his stomach while lying in bed, trying to remember the feeling of Ian’s chiseled abs beneath his fingertips.
I keep going back to the surprised jump his throat made when I followed through on his joking invitation to “cop a feel.” He didn’t break eye contact, which would usually be nerve-racking, but in the moment, it was great because he didn’t see how my dick firmed up at the slightest brush of his hard muscles against my fingers.
Will I ever get to feel something like that again? The hard ridges of another guy’s muscles, all warm and sensual under my hand?
Oh, shit—I’m allowing myself to get all depraved over Ian. While I know there’s no inherent problem with attraction, and Anita said the same thing, this kind of thinking crosses the line into inappropriate territory.
Groaning to myself, I turn over and bury my face in the pillow. Nothing is going to change about my wandering thoughts if I don’t do anything. Ian’s still going to be very bi and very hot, I’m still going to be weird and closeted, and things could implode like a pressure cooker.
I could get drunk and make a stupid move on him, and then I’d lose him as a friend.
The mere thought of that makes my stomach churn.Something has to give before I get to that point. I need to take some kind of action; it’s not on Ian to do everything.
Maybe he needs to know about me.
The thought sends terror into my guts. The only other person who knows I’m gay is Anita, and being cool with that is part of her job. As for the rest of the world, it’s up in the air.
If I come out now, Ian might go cold on me. It’s one thing for him to joke with me the way he does with his other friends, but I’m different. I’m capable of—no, I’m actively liking him.
He was comfortable enough to come out tome, but that’s only because he thought, and still thinks, that I’m straight.
But he deserves to know. He deserves to know I’m gay so at least he’s informed. So he can decide whether or not sharing his home with the likes of me is something that he’s still comfortable with.
It’s a tough choice—keep myself hidden and hope I don’t do something stupid, or be upfront and risk things getting awkward.
I unlock my phone as a distraction, and I find a text from Laura waiting.
Laura Pierre
Sabrina is watching some awful TV show and as much as I love her I simply cannot cope with any more
Wanna hang out if you’re free?
Maybe I could talk to Laura about this.
Getting a compulsion to unload my issues on others isn’t ideal at all, and I make a note to discuss more coping mechanisms with Anita when we meet next. Still, that doesn’t help me now, and Laura’s been nice to me, and she might be able to put some things into perspective.
I’m free, do you want to study French too?
Absolutely the fuck not
Let’s just hang out lmao
Sounds good
Yay! Meet me at the student center in 15 and we can do anything EXCEPT studying French
Right. Okay. I have to get ready; I’m showered, but I’m still only wearing a shirt and my old sweats.
I get dressed for real and grab a stack of cookies on the way out, and as soon as I take a bite out of the first one, my mouth waters, begging me to scarf down the rest of them. These areaddictive. I’ll have to ask Ian if he’s putting drugs in everything he bakes.
Despite everything that went down this morning, I still arrive at the student center with a content smile on my face.
Because of Ian’s magic cookies.
Why does he have to make this so hard by being biandirresistible? It’s like he’s trying to keep me wrapped around his finger, but heisn’t, and he doesn’t know that he is—I’m just a massive freaking loser who falls for the first attractive guy he meets after leaving home.
