If my body can react to Alex like this, then my mind could get on board. And the thing that’s most important out of all of this is trust. I know I can trust him. I hate it, but there isn’t anyone I would trust more than him. Hell, I trust him more than Austen. I feel bad saying that,but it’s true. It’s likely Austen tells Cameron everything, and though Cameron isn’t a gossip, I don’t like the idea of him knowing my business.
But then that’s another problem.
Austen.
How the fuck is he going to take this? Me fucking around with his brother? Might not go well. I care about Austen a lot. He’s the closest thing I have to a brother. And what about his family? The Brewers shower Austen with praise and accolade, but Alex? What would they think of their son with a guy? Do they even know he’s bisexual?
There are too many factors. The only way I’ll ever know if we could manage any of this is if I talk to him. I mean, what if he isn’t even on board? It’s possible I’m getting ahead of the game. Now that Alex has gotten me to do what he wants, maybe he’ll be done. Maybe he isn’t looking for anything more than what we’ve done.
Thinking back on last night, other than making me slightly uncomfortable over him being a guy, solely for the fact I never thought I’d give in to that, nothing was terrible. Nothing felt wrong. In fact, it all felt good.
Not just the sex, but him here, after everyone left. Sitting in bed, watching TV, and eating.
Alex has always been someone I could hang out with, even if I never chose to. He’s been around for years, always as Austen’s wild older brother, but also as one ofus. He’s into sports and he’s only a couple years older, so it’s not like we have nothing in common. He wasn’t really a dick to me, or any of our other friends growing up. He didn’t act like he was better than us because he was older.
If we can touch each other’s dicks and still be cool with each other, that means something, right?
Maybe if I had a relationship to go off, in terms of experience, it would be easier, but I’ve never been in a relationship before.
But if I’m going to start this with someone, I’d like it to be with Alex.
Considering it’s still early, I start cleaning up the room so Mrs. Brewer doesn’t end up with an astronomical bill. I grab all the spare trash bags I can find in the room and toss the cups in. After that, I line the bottles on the table for the housekeepers to grab. I put all the food over there too, then take a shower and change, before throwing the rest of my clothes into my duffle bag. The suit was rented, so I’ll have to return it. I get it back into the bag, then lie it on the bed.
Now that everything is done, I have nothing left to do but go talk to Alex.
Maybe I’m procrastinating.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my sweatpants, then take a deep breath.
It’ll be fine. The worst he’ll do is tell me no, and even then, it’s not like he’ll go tell anyone else. So really, maybe it’s not all that bad.
There is a knock on the door, so I go to it, my stomach doing a little flip thinking it’s Alex. I pull it open without looking, but it’s Paul on the other side. He shoves a bag and an iced coffee at me.
“Enjoy your breakfast. I’m going to bed,” he grumbles as he walks away.
I watch as he goes, wondering if he’s slept yet. I have no idea why he’s handing me breakfast, but I’m not going to say no to food. So I step back into my room, sit at the desk, and eat.
I take my time, knowing when I’m done, there’s nothing else to procrastinate with. Before I know it, the food is gone and all that’s left in the cup is ice.
With a sigh, I get rid of the trash, then head out the door to Alex’s room, which is down the hall and around the corner.
I don’t hesitate to knock. If I don’t do this now, I never will.
I wait a moment and don’t hear anything on the other side, so I knock again.
Nothing.
I glance at the number on the door, then step back and look down the hall. This is definitely his room. I was herelast night, so I should know. I knock one more time, this time louder, more like a bang.
The door to the right opens and Hudson walks out, rubbing his eyes.
“What the fuck, Mack?” he groans.
“Have you seen Alex?” I ask, worried that something is wrong. He drank a lot yesterday. What if he got sick and—
“He left.”
“What?”
