I could tell Tiller was really thinking about what I’d said. He pursed his lips in hesitation before speaking. “I don’t think that’s what this is.”
“I know him better than you, Tiller,” I said, suddenly feeling exhausted. “He sees me as his family. He was hurt by Erin’s rejection, and he’s seeking comfort from his family.”
I felt the intense stares from all the guys in the room, but it was Sam who said what they were all obviously thinking. “Comfort. Right. So you’re saying the two of you were hugging and talking about your feelings when the ejaculate just sort of… happened?”
He was twisting my words around. “We’re friends! How can you go from close friends to sex partners?”
Tiller and Mikey exchanged a look before Mikey said, “Pretty easily, actually.”
“No, that’s different. You two were at least both gay to begin with,” I countered. “Maybe I just need to reassure him I’m not going anywhere. Maybe then he’ll stop panicking and doing… weird things.”
Truman looked confused. “I thought you said you kissed him? Who initiated the sexual stuff?”
I winced and looked down into my wineglass. Why had I thought kissing him would be a good idea?
In the middle of my awkward guilt moment, the telltale brrup sound of a Grindr notification rang out. I snapped my head up to look at Mikey, who was busy fumbling for his phone.
Tiller tapped his chin. “I may have a bad memory, but isn’t that…”
Mikey flashed him a guilty grimace. “It’s not what you think!”
Tiller huffed out a laugh. “Oh, I think it’s exactly what I think. Michael Kincaid Vining, what the fuck did you do?”
Mikey’s eyes snuck to me before landing back on Tiller. “Nothing.” He tapped at his phone before sliding it back in his pocket.
“He’s been sending Grindr hookups to the cabin,” I said. “Which has made things even more awkward with Parker, so thanks for that, friend.”
Tiller sighed. Sam laughed, and Truman tried to hide a grin. Mikey began apologizing. “I actually arranged those before I knew Parker was staying with you. Remember how you thought you were going to be wallowing this week?”
“I can manage my own dick, Mikey,” I said.
Sam made an mmpfh noise, calling bullshit on my lie. I ignored him.
“Besides,” I continued, “Parker is staying with me, so please stop.”
“That’s just it,” he exclaimed. “I tried! But for some reason, I can’t get into the app. It keeps sending me notifications, but it won’t let me access my messages or cancel the account.”
I reached for the tray of appetizers and popped several more in my mouth. At least I was in Mikey’s kitchen, where eating my feelings was especially decadent.
After swallowing another sip of wine, I rested my head on the counter. I needed to go home and talk to Parker.
And I would.
Just not yet.
11
PARKER
I couldn’t get to sleep, mostly because it was midafternoon but also because my dick got hard every time I replayed the encounter with Julian in the living room.
And I couldn’t stop replaying it.
Watching Julian respond to my touch, my kiss, my staggered breaths had been hotter than anything I’d ever experienced. What was it about hooking up with him that had made it so much more exciting? Was it that I’d never done any of this with a man before? Or the adrenaline spike of fear from changing the dynamic with my best friend? Or was it simply because he was the most attractive and enticing human I knew?
Maybe all three.
Thinking of Jules as hot wasn’t new. I’d always known he was attractive and sexy. I just hadn’t let myself imagine kissing him or touching him, not since I’d tried it on with Tiller and thought sex wouldn’t be good with a guy.
That seemed so naive and silly now, given how explosive it had been once I’d gotten my hands on the right guy.
I wasn’t sure what that meant about my sexuality—maybe I was bi, or pan, or a billion other things I’d never really investigated. And maybe I was supposed to care more about figuring out which thing, like it would be more legitimate if I put a label on it. But it was really hard to get all worked up over any of that when being with Julian felt like Christmas and the Fourth of July and summer vacation had all come at once.
Being as close to Julian Thick as possible was the only thing I’d ever wanted, even when I thought we could only be friends. And now that I knew I could possibly have him in all the ways—that he could be my best friend and I could make his eyes roll back in his head with pleasure when I touched his dick—I was all in. Game over.
I just wasn’t sure how to convince Julian that this wasn’t an overreaction to being jilted and that I wasn’t using him as a safety blanket the way Erin had done with me.
A knock on the door startled me out of my rumination. I tried to remember if I’d locked the door behind Julian or if he was simply giving me a warning so I wouldn’t be surprised by his return.
I stumbled out of bed and grabbed my hoodie before opening the door. Instead of Jules, another stranger stood on the front porch. He was a small guy with perfect hair and a too-perfect smile.
“Are you Jay?” he asked, giving me a thorough up-down with dark-lined eyes. He must have liked what he saw because he muttered under his breath. “Baby Jesus, please, if you care about me at all, and if you want to make up for my shitty-ass childhood in Baton Rouge, you will give me this beautiful man.”
“No. I’m sorry. He’s not here, and there’s been some kind of mistake.”
He bit his knuckle. “I have some ideas on how we can take advantage of his absence.”
“I don’t…” How did I tell him I wasn’t interested without offending him? It had been one thing when I was straight, but now that I knew I was… not-straight… I wasn’t sure of the etiquette. In fact, I could really use some gay advice. “Want to come in?” I asked instead of sending him away.
He looked up at the roof of the porch. “Thanks, Big Guy. I owe you one.”
He followed me inside and introduced himself as BJ. “But not the kind you think. It stands for Baby Jeremiah. My dad is Jeremiah Senior. Ask me how it was growing up gay in Louisiana with the name BJ. Go ahead. Ask me.”
“Why didn’t you change it?”
He leveled a faux patient look at me. “I did. I spent years trying to get people to call me by my middle name, but it never took. Then I moved to California, became a yoga instructor, stopped giving a shit about other people’s opinions, and decided my name was a feature, not a bug, so I embraced it. Besides, once guys hear I’m a yoga instructor, they tend to forget my name entirely anyway.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m very, very bendy… as you’ll soon find out.”
“I don’t want sex,” I blurted. “But, ah, I could use some advice.”
BJ froze in the act of removing his parka and then continued in slow motion. “Okayyy… advice about what? And I’m going to assume you’re just being shy about the sex. We’ll ease you into it.”