Was Blake a bear?
“Hey, Blake,” I smiled to my old friend.
I’d actually gotten used to them all being in a relationship to the point that I didn’t feel thrown by their constant kissing and touching, although that night, seeing how Blake hugged Russell’s shoulder, it just made me remember Jet again.
“Peyton was asking about bears?” Blake asked innocently. He squinted at the phone. “You’re kind of a bear, dude. You could totally pull that off.” He turned over his shoulder and hollered into the other room. “Hey! Casey! Don’t you think Peyton could pass as a bear? Kind of hot, right?”
“Oh totally!” I heard my other friend call out in the background of the call.
I groaned. “Thanks, guys, gotta go,” I said, then hung up the phone before the three of them started trying to plan a flannel makeover for me.
In the quiet apartment again, I laid back on the couch. I had great friends and a fantastic brother. They were all supportive, the least judgmental people I knew, and I promised myself that if I didn’t figure my sexuality out soon, I’d open up and start asking for their advice.
It made me nauseous, the idea of admitting to another person that I was “boring” in bed and that I still hadn’t figured out what I wanted after all these years. But if they could help me, the humiliation would be worth it.
In the meanwhile, I had plenty else to worry about. Primarily, what was going to happen at the barbecue if Alastair showed up and turned out to actually be Jet.
Not to mention the fact that I was still thinking about the alley and how good it had felt to slide my cock into the stranger’s mouth, then drop to my knees on the hard pavement to service him.
“A hot bear,” I grumbled, then sighed and sunk down into the couch. “Whatever that means.”
