He sobers quickly, his expression a mixture of emotions far too complex for me to fully unravel. “It’s a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“It could get messy.”
“Isn’t that kinda the point?”
Oakley stills before amusement steals over his eyes. He keeps his lips pressed in a firm line, trying not to betray himself. “Lawson, you better use a fucking condom.”
“You can make sure of it if it’s you.”
“Do not threaten me with irresponsibility,” he says, pointing a finger my way. “You’re too damn by the book not to practice safe sex, anyway.Good grief, I cannot believe this is a conversation we’re having.”
I chuckle, and Oakley shakes his head, leaning forward to swipe his drink off the coffee table. He downs the whiskey, holding the empty glass in his hands as he stares at me.
“In all seriousness,” he says slowly, “I’m really glad you’re telling me this, Lawson. I’m glad you know you can trust me. I just… I can’t have sex with you.”
I pull in a short breath, nodding, even as the disappointment at his words is sharp in my chest. I knew there was a chance he’d say no. That he’d think it was too weird. Or that I might not be his type in the first place.
I just wanted it to be him. The idea of some stranger fucking me isn’t nearly as appealing as it being the man I know better than I know myself some days.
“If you change your mind…” I say, letting the sentence hang.
Oakley nods, his face set in a frown. He clears his throat. “You can crash here tonight if you want.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, that tiny pour of whiskey not enough to affect me. I stand, feeling all sorts of turned around and unspun, like a bundle of yarn halfway to being a shirt.
“Law,” Oakley says, voice soft.
“I’m fine.”
“Jesus,” he mutters. The next second, Oakley is skirting the coffee table, his arms coming around me tight. My face presses to the bend of his neck, and I cling back, wishing I had more answers than questions.
It shouldn’t be so hard, figuring myself out, should it? I’ve had forty-three years to try, and I’m still not certain of something as fundamental to my being as my sexuality. My parents were always open with us, always encouraging us to be proud of whoever it is we are. Every single one of my brothers is queer. Even Colton figured it out, his bisexuality.
It’s never been something I was scared of or unwilling to accept. But my brothers’ experiences aren’t my own.
And I don’t know how to explain something I don’t even have words for.
“It’ll be all right,” Oakley says, his voice passing near my ear, gentle and sure. “You’ll figure it out, Law.”
I wanted to figure it out with you.
I don’t say it. It’s too much.
I won’t guilt Oakley into sex. Not ever. Especially not after what I experienced with Laura.
“Yeah,” I answer, even though I feel as unsure as ever. “Night, Oak.”
He lets me go, a softly spoken, “Good night, Law,” accompanying me to the door. I stick my feet in my boots, check to make sure I have my keys and wallet, and head outside.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t find a single pixie dancing under the light of the moon.
Chapter 8
Oakley
I’ve officially been ruined.
