Page 48 of The Art of Drowning

Scratch that. I was a lot crazy about him. Totally gone for him. In love with him. Despite my better judgment. Despite knowing I shouldn’t have even looked at him once, let alone twice, let alone kissed him. And touched him. But the more time we spent together, the less he felt like Sam’s and the more he felt like mine.

I’d never want Damien to have to choose between us, and the sensible thing to do would’ve been to stop sneaking. To stop letting him into my room. To stop seeking him out when Sam wasn’t around. If I was smart, I’d lock myself away from him until I left for college.

But I wasn’t smart.

I was a teenage boy who’d just come and wanted to come again. Preferably this time with a dick in my mouth, but I’d take what I could get.

“How do you want me?” Damien asked, getting to his feet. Standing in front of me like this put his dick at eye level. While I’d been wearing pajama pants, Damien was in a pair of jeans so tight they left nothing to the imagination.

“Just like that,” I told him and my heart about stopped when he pulled his zipper down and fished his cock out of his pants.

It was a good thing I’d already come, because his dick was right there and watching him touch himself, up close and personal, was enough to make me combust.

I wrapped a hand around my own aching cock and gave it a squeeze, willing him to behave.

Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed. Damien jumped back and tucked his dick away. I did the same, and I watched him practically sprint for my door. Once he was safely on the other side, I got up and softly padded to my bedroom door. I pressed my ear against it and heard voices outside.

Sam was home, and Jessica was with him. I recognized her laugh. And then there was another laugh.

Another girl.

I pressed my ear to the door harder and the words came through muffled, but clear enough to be understood.

The other girl was here to meet Damien.

The voices got farther away and when the front door shut again, I realized what happened.

It was the thing that was going to happen all along. No matter what.

He left.

He chose Sam.

And I was stupid to have wished for anything different.

TWENTY-FOUR

damien

THEN

Jessica’s best friend Tiffany was nice. And that was the problem. Tiffany was nice, and I was supposedly the perfect person for her. Her crush on me was super obvious and, for a moment, I wished I was into her because it would make everything easier.

Tiffany was pretty in a cheerleader sort of way. The perfect ponytail. The bright smile and shining white teeth. The perky tits. She was cute, and yeah, maybe in another life I could’ve mustered up some attraction for her, but apparently my dick was a one-person man, or a one-man dick.

The party we were at was loud and everyone was drunk. Including Sam and his girlfriend, who were practically humping in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. Jessica had her tongue down Sam’s throat, and he had his hand under her skirt. The room smelled of spilled beer and a sickening mixture of Axe body spray and still, somehow, armpit.

I leaned against a wall and held a drink in my hand. I’d poured out half when I went to the bathroom to make it look like I’d been drinking. I’d gone so far as to take a few sips to mask my minty fresh breath. Though I hated losing the taste of Callum. Especially since I didn’t know if he’d ever look at me again, let alone let me kiss him. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. Not after the way I’d just fucking abandoned him.

Tiffany appeared at my side again, a fresh drink for me in her hand. Her face fell when she saw that I still had a drink.

“Oh.” She stood there, awkwardly holding two drinks. Why did she have to be so nice? If she was awful, I could ditch her and not feel bad about it. I’d been over this party before we’d even arrived, but Sam had wanted to come. And so had Tiffany.

I took the drink from her and set my half-empty one aside next to a stack of other abandoned red Solo cups that lined the little side table I’d parked myself next to.

“It was warm anyway.” I had to lean closer to be heard above the music. I hated that clearly she’d been given a different description of how tonight was going to go. I bet she thought that we’d be enjoying ourselves in a similar fashion to our best friends. It made everything uncomfortable as fuck because I didn’t want to make small talk and give her hope that it was going to go anywhere. But flat out ignoring her felt mean. She could have any guy in the place, and she still stood next to me, even though I’d barely said ten words to her all night.

“It’s hot in here.” Tiffany leaned closer than necessary, pressing her body against mine. “Aren’t you hot?”