If only.
I drop my head and roar with pleasure. I thought “seeing stars” was an exaggeration until I met Forest. His body does something to me that makes me question the fundamental laws of science, and I tilt forward onto the mattress.
Everything gets impossibly better when Forest’s burly arm clamps around my body. He buries his face in the back of my neck and makes a noise of deep gratitude. I feel him shudder inside me, and every one of my muscles relaxes.
We end up in a sweaty heap on my bed. I’m still face down, my greedy heart thumping away against the mattress. I hold very still, hoping he won’t get up and leave.
I know he has to. But just… not yet.
Twenty-Two
Think of Meatloaf
Forest
I wake up but don’t open my eyes yet. I’m pancaked against Beck. A month ago, I would have found that deeply confusing, but the lanky shape of him is familiar to me now, and I let myself drift.
When I eventually open my eyes, I’m a little surprised to find myself in his bedroom instead of my own. Which means it’s happened again—I managed to take things further than ever with Beck.
Like sleeping over at his house.
And unprotected sex. Not that it’s a danger. It’s a precedent, though.
Don’t panic, dummy. You’ll figure it out. Beck is worth it.
I reluctantly extract myself from his warm body and sit up. It’s Friday. I think. I have a million things to do, and a very full bladder, and I don’t see my clothes anywhere.
While Beck sleeps on, I tiptoe naked to the door of his room and slip into the corridor. I avail myself of Beck’s tidy bathroom and contemplate my day. More interviews. Ordering bar supplies, and bookkeeping. Shopping for trucks online.
First step—find all of my clothing. I vaguely remember shedding some of it near the couch. I shuffle into the living room to find…
A man. On the couch. I freeze like Bambi in front of a semi.
Holy shit. What else can I fuck up for Beck? It isn’t even eight a.m.
The guy—Beck’s roommate I guess—looks up from the bowl of cereal he’s eating. “Dude. Great ink. You get that done around here?”
“Uh…” I gulp. “Yup. Thanks?” Then, as if I could actually undo this disaster, I take a step backward, like that gif of Homer Simpson disappearing into the hedge. But there’s no hedge, and I’m still naked.
“You know,” the guy says, raising another spoonful of cereal. “I was wondering when Beck was gonna bring someone home. Dude’s been moping around here for weeks.” He shovels in the mouthful and chews. “You’re the bartender, right? From that place he goes every week?” More chewing. “Cool. Just, uh, maybe grab some pants before you wander around? Not on my account, but my new girlfriend is coming by later to drop off groceries, and I’m in that stage when I’m tryna look classy.”
“You have a girlfriend?” comes Beck’s shocked voice from a distance behind me. I think he’s still in his bedroom?
“Like, a living, breathing one?” Beck continues the conversation like he’s standing right beside his roommate. “And why are you home already?”
“Dude, yes!” The guy stands up and actually brushes past my naked body to move into the corridor. He stops in the doorway of Beck’s room. “We got knocked out of the tournament at three a.m. And also Lizzie wanted to see me today. Could you, like, avoid certain topics when she’s here? Don't tell her I live on gas-station pizza and energy drinks. I want her to think I'm capable of adulting.”
“Okay,” Beck’s voice says, but it’s muffled.
“Now aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” his roommate asks.
I use my moment alone to grab various articles of our clothing off the living room floor. I hold them in front of my package, like some kind of Garden of Eden farce, and then I head down the hall.
Through the open door, I can see Beck is still in bed, but now he’s holding the pillow across his face, and this is why his speech is muffled. “His name is Forest. He’s... We’re...”
He yanks the pillow off his face and gestures wildly toward me, his face turning the color of a stop sign. “We have a lot of sex. Obviously. I mean, you probably figured that out because, uh, his dick is hanging out.” He clears his throat. “I’m gay. Surprise? I should have mentioned that sooner, probably. But it never really came up in conversation, you know? Like, ‘Hey Rigsy, pass the protein powder, also I’m attracted to men.’” He runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up even worse. “Are we... Is this weird now?”
Rigsy snorts. “Buddy, gotta fill you in on something—the weird don’t start here, ya feel me? I don’t give two fucks, though. When have I ever?”
