I nodded and grabbed a box, figuring this whole ordeal would feel slightly less humiliating and awkward if I were at least moving.
Welcome to the house, Russell. Now your childhood crushes are going to interrogate you about everyone’s sexual identity.
“He told me,” I answered, “I think a few years ago?”
“And funny thing, Blake here is only into clowns, isn’t that right, Blake?” he added, then grabbed a box for himself.
“Do I have to tell you that’s not true?” Blake asked me, deadpan.
I laughed. “No, don’t worry. I remember Casey.”
Casey turned and walked back into the house. “There’s plenty else in the neighborhood, too, besides the gay bar.” I grabbed a second box and followed him. “Like I said, we’ll show you around,” he added.
The basement room had a line of windows at the top of the wall, and about twice as much space as the room I’d just been booted from. I dropped the boxes and took it all in, my eyes drifting across the big bed with flannel sheets, the wide oak dresser, and the twin full-length mirrors, resting against the wall.
“You’re lucky down here,” Blake said, then shoved Casey from the side. “I have to listen to him snoring upstairs.”
Casey draped his arm over his friend’s shoulder. “I’m not promising you won’t hear me snoring from the basement, too,” he told me, and Blake laughed and pushed him away again.
I swallowed. They definitely liked touching each other. I remembered that from when we were young because how could I not notice how much they were always touching each other?
It was like a direct feed of raw material into my spank bank.
My pulse accelerated. Maybe I used to spend a lot of time thinking about how much Casey and Blake touched, but that had to be over. Now I was an adult, and they were really kindly putting me up in their spare room, and I was not going to let myself accidentally stare at their crotches.
“Another load?” Blake asked, nodding up toward the truck.
“Sure,” I answered weakly. “Another load.”
