Am I doing that?
My breath quickens and my heart pounds, and everything feels out of control, and suddenly I’m scared. So fucking scared.
“What’s going on, big guy?” Jeremy’s voice is gravel, and it snaps me back to reality.
What the fuck am I doing?
I drop my hand and recoil, breathing the chilly air. Without looking at Jeremy, I walk to the passenger-side door and yank it open.
“Marcus—”
“Just get in the fucking truck.”
Jeremy doesn’t listen, of course. He crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a cool look. “How is this going to work if you’re constantly giving me mixed signals? I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”
“Me either!” I yell, slamming the truck door closed and banging my forehead against it. “Do you think I want to feel this way?” I look at him. It feels like my insides are on fire.
Jeremy’s eyes soften, and he walks over to me, placing a gentle hand on my back in what’s probably supposed to be a comforting gesture. “Listen, Marcus. I know what it’s like to be confused and scared. I went through it too before I came out?—”
Before I think better of it, I spin around, knocking his hand away. “Don’t touch me. I’m not gay. I don’t?—”
Jeremy steps back, eyes wide, before I see the flash of anger. “Listen, you homophobic prick,” he hisses. “I’m sorry that you can’t accept the fact that you’re attracted to a twink like me?—”
“I-I don’t want you.” I scowl at him, unable to explain the conflicting emotions that are making me feel like a live wire. “Not like—I mean . . .” I frown. “What’s a twink?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose.
I hear the scrape of feet somewhere in the garage, and our proximity causes icy panic in my veins. I look around quickly, but don’t see anyone, so I take a deep breath.
Tough it out, Marcus.
I press my back into the side of my truck, adding mere inches of space between us, but it feels like a chasm. “Look, I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I don’t care that you’re gay,” I say firmly. “But I don’t like men like that.”
Jeremy gives me an assessing look. “Is that why you came quicker than a preteen who just discovered his dick?”
This motherfucker.
But his sass definitely defuses the situation.I glare at him and reopen the door. “Can we go now?”
He sniffs passive-aggressively. “Fine.” Then he pushes past me, and climbs into the cab.
Jeremy lives on Capitol Hill.It’s not a long drive, especially this time of night. We sit in silence the whole way, and when I pull up to the curb, I lean over, looking at his apartment building. The streetlight reflects off dirty bricks and white trim stained mossy green—a typical old Seattle apartment.
“What’s that look for?” Jeremy asks.
My eyes cut to his, which seem to glow in the dark. “Nothing.”
“It’s nicer inside.”
My stomach jumps. “Are you inviting me inside?”
“No,” he says quickly. Our breath fogs up the windows, making the cab of the truck feel stuffy. “But you’re acting like I live in the hood.” He pauses. “Do youwantto come up?”
“What? No! And I wasn’t being judgy. I didn’t even say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“You sure do like to make assumptions,” I grumble.
