“Masey,” he blurted, and I blinked in shock. “Don’t make fun.”
My stomach turned to mush at the vulnerability in his voice. “Nah. Never with something like that.”
His memories of his mom were sacred. And too precious.
And then we did more of that staring thing, where it felt like stuff was hanging between us that both of us were probably too chicken to say.
Still, this was a good start. We were never around each other alone like this unless you counted that time in the shower. No, don’t think about it. No matter how much you want to ask him once and for all and get it out in the open.
Ultimately, I decided it wasn’t the right time.
“Night, Maclain,” I said, but didn’t turn away, just kept my eyes on him.
“Night, Girard.” He didn’t turn either, but after another minute, he shut his eyes and so did I, falling into a dreamless sleep.
9
Maclain
“I see how you look at me, Maclain.”
My shoulders stiffened and my throat felt raw. “Not sure what you mean.”
“I think you do,” Girard replied in a strangled tone, and I was too curious not to turn and face him.
Girard stood in front of our lockers, completely bare, fisting his stiff cock as if daring me to look. Instead, I focused on a point over his shoulder, terrified I was reading him all wrong. Unless I was dreaming. It certainly felt like I was dreaming.
Please don’t let me be dreaming.
“This what you wanted all along, Maclain?” His voice was hoarse and so damned sexy.
“No, I—” I sputtered as my gaze roamed greedily over Girard’s bulging chest and down the line of dark fuzz below his belly button to the bushy patch at his groin. I nearly whimpered aloud as I braced my shoulder against my locker to steady myself.
Girard’s gaze slowly skimmed the front of my white baseball pants as his hand gripped his length tighter and stroked upward in a smooth motion. “I think your dick feels differently.”
My eyes were glued to the bead of precome at his tip, and I wondered what it might feel like against my fingers…or my mouth. A moan escaped my lips.
“You wanna touch me?” Girard choked out, his fist in motion while his other hand reached down to cup his balls as if to stave off his orgasm.
I shook my head, barely able to take my eyes off Girard’s swollen shaft as my own cock now strained against the itchy material of my baseball pants.
“How about I touch you?” Girard panted, his chest heaving. “That’s what you really want.”
Our eyes locked, awareness flickering through his and, Christ, he knew. He knew I wanted so fucking bad to be touched. By anyone, but mostly by Girard. The idea of it utterly consumed me.
I squirmed, my skin heating to a boiling point as I watched Girard chase his release. When his come spurted over his fist, he groaned. I’d never seen anything so fucking hot in my life. I shut my eyes, letting my own orgasm overtake me, the room whiting out. And for one perfect moment, I felt free. Alive.
Humiliation couldn’t worm its way inside me, not this time.
An insistent knock startled me awake, and I blinked repeatedly, trying to get my bearings. I’d been napping on the couch, and now I stumbled bleary-eyed toward the door, only to find Kellan waiting there.
“Donovan isn’t back yet,” I grumbled, forking my fingers through my hair and wishing I could adjust my painful erection. Both Donovan and Hollister had gone home to see their families, so I had the house all to myself. I didn’t always appreciate the silence, but after another busy week of classes and games, I was pretty beat.
“I’m not here for Donovan.”
“Huh?” Ah, hell, I was supposed to help him with the bowling fundraiser today.
He folded his arms. “You forgot, didn’t you?”
“No, I…” My shoulders sagged. “Yeah, I did.”
Or maybe I’d just pushed the idea of seeing Girard away from the baseball field out of my mind so it didn’t become nerve-racking. But after that fucking dream, how could it not? Holy Christ, what had that been about? It was enough that our alone time in the hotel room the previous weekend had changed the dynamic between us, to say the least. The talking, laughing, and staring was all pretty confusing and surreal. Like finally getting private time with the guy I was desperately trying not to have a crush on for the better part of a year. That probably explained it—that, and Girard walking around our room naked, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“It’s okay. I won’t rat you out,” Kellan said, then motioned over his shoulder. “Besides, Jaz is driving, and she told me to pick up your lazy ass.”
“She could’ve given me a heads-up.” I glanced at her car idling at the curbside. “Just give me a few and I’ll be right out.”
I strode to the bathroom to take a leak and splash cold water on my face. I fixed my unruly hair in the mirror, then smoothed my fingers over the creases in my worn T-shirt and gray sweatpants, figuring I looked decent enough.
“Guess you don’t check your texts,” Jasmine said smugly as I slid in the back seat. I lifted my phone and saw the message from her. Crap.
“I was napping.”
“Donovan does the same thing. If I napped that much, I’d never get any sleep at night,” Kellan said as Jasmine pulled onto the street.
“Why are you along for the ride?” I asked Jasmine. “You bored or something?”
She glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Something like that.”
Kellan turned to face me. “She’s fighting with her girlfriend, and now Jaz is giving her the silent treatment.”
Jasmine shushed him, the deep flush on her cheeks matching her lip gloss.
“What? It’s true.”
I leaned forward. “Trouble in paradise?”
The very first night Jaz and I hung out, we’d had a conversation about our shitty parents, and I’d felt this kinship with her. She was really pretty, and at one time I would’ve pursued her for a hookup, but soon enough, I found out she wasn’t interested—at least not that night—and in hindsight, I was glad for it because we most likely wouldn’t have become friends.
“You know us bisexuals—we just can’t seem to make up our minds,” she quipped, quoting one of the stereotypes she’d complained about another time we’d talked about her sexuality.
“Seriously, you should also stop having so many threesomes,” Kellan teased. “Not that the gays don’t hold part of the market on throuples.”
My brain was going to explode, being in the same car as these two. I was normally around straight people who tended to be uptight about such conversations—though certainly not others, like sexual positions. Go figure.
“Sorry, queer humor,” Kellan said, motioning with his hand to the back seat.
“No worries. It doesn’t… So, when did you know?” I blurted. “That you were gay, I mean.”
Holy shit, where had that come from?
Well, I did almost have a wet dream about another guy for Christ’s sake.
“If I knew I’d be telling my coming-out story on this trip, I would’ve prepared better,” he teased.