My entire body tensed, head to toe. I sprouted an instant boner aimed in his direction. I wiped my face with my hands, glad that he couldn’t see my desire made plain. He was standing on the other side of the shower curtain, likely naked. He was right there. With one word, one gesture, he could be mine. I stood there speechless.Hell,yesI wanted his company.
He’s going to ruin you.
Melissa’s words hit me like ice-cold water. Andre was young and beautiful and the city was calling to him. I doubted he was ready to be anyone’s boyfriend, and I didn’t think I could go halfway with him. Not to mention living together would complicate things. Besides, if I let him into my bed now, how would I be any different from Fang? Nicer digs. That was about it. And even eighteen was too young.
While my head listed all the reasons why not, my body said,right now.
“Martin?”
I bit my knuckles. The words felt like teeth being torn from my mouth. “I think we should try being friends for now.”
“Friends?” he said, like it was a foreign word. “Really?” He groaned, just inches away from me. I felt the low timbre of his voice. “I’m a person who needs affection, Martin. That’s why I left Alabama.”
I smiled at the honesty of his admission. It was brave. I could give him affection and more. What was I thinking to refuse him? He was beautiful and available and he’d fallen into my lap like a gift from the gods.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you.” I banged the back of my head against the tiled wall.
“Is that what you think this is?”
I didn’t know what this was, but I knew I didn’t want to mess it up. It felt too… precarious.
“You need more time, Andre, to explore the city, be wild and free. I don’t want to hold you back.”
He was quiet for a moment, then a long sigh.
“Okay, then,” he muttered. “If that’s how you want it.”
He left, and I turned the water back on, letting the warm water wash over me. I grabbed hold of my wet cock, still firm, and imagined another scenario, one where I let him into the shower with me. In my mind my fingers skated over his smooth, silky skin, explored the hills and valleys of his form, probed his intimate folds. I imagined him naked and bent over in front of me. I stroked my cock until a thin thread of semen shot out, relieved, if only temporarily, of the mounting sexual tension.
Look but don’t touch, I told myself.
Easier said than done.
8. Friday
“IT’S FRIDAY.You ain’t got no job. You ain’t got shit to do.”
“Actually, it’s Saturday,” I told him. We were lounging around on the couch, having just woken up after a late night of partying. Andre was in sweatpants and no shirt, as was his custom around the house. I didn’t complain.Look but don’t touchhad become my daily mantra. The day spread out before us like an empty canvas. For once we had the same night off, which may have had something to do with me requesting it off from Hector.
“You ever seen the movieFriday?” he asked me.
“Nope.”
“Oh my God, Martin, you are so white,” he said in his white person accent.
“Actually, I’m Cuban,” I reminded him.
“You smoke weed?” He grinned mischievously.
“No.”
“You want to?” His eyebrows worked his forehead up and down.
I shrugged. His good humor was contagious. “Yeah, maybe. Why not?”
He slapped his hands together. “We should get high and watchFriday.”
I laughed. “We should get out of the house first. You want to go to the botanic garden?”
