“No, get your own.” Taya frowns into the bag that she’s elbow deep in.
“You’re like Plankton, always trying to steal shit.” I chuckle, thinking I am way too funny because of my own high right now.
“Is this whole show just a metaphor for life?” Gannon’s head is almost fully tilted sideways as he moves closer to the screen.
“Oh, Jesus Christ, not this again. Why does he always want to get deep whenever we smoke?” Taya shoves a handful of Cheetos in her mouth.
Scott slumps down, lying on the floor. “Well, there isn’t much more than gas in his head when he’s not high.”
“I know! I’ll go whip up some nachos!” Bevan cries as if there hasn’t been another conversation going on around her this whole time.
All of our minds are on food, but as my ex-girlfriend leaves the room, everyone looks at each other with anxious expressions.
“Someone needs to supervise her before she burns the house down!” Gannon has the most rational thought this house has seen in hours.
“I’ll go,” I announce, and no one thinks this is weird.
My body feels light as a feather and heavy with lust all at the same time. All of my extremities tingle with that feeling you can only achieve from a really fucking good weed brownie. I’ll have to congratulate Scott on his achievement when I get the chance … except I don’t plan on going back into that living room.
Bevan is in the kitchen, searching through the fridge, when I come up behind her and grab her hips. I grind my pelvis into her ass; the weed making me loopy and shameless.
“Oh my God!” she squeaks, surprised at the intrusion.
I giggle like a school kid who just got his first boner and pull her toward me. Anyone could walk into the kitchen right now and see what we’re doing, and yet I don’t care. I wonder, idly, if she told the girls about our hookup last night.
It’s all I’ve been able to think about since it happened. I jacked off in the shower this morning thinking about how I rubbed her clit until she came. I pictured her face as she stuck her own fingers in her mouth, about how many times I stuck my own dick there. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give for Bevan to blow me right now.
“Come upstairs with me.” I kiss her neck and feel her body sag with lust.
“Don’t you want them not to find out? That would be pretty obvious.” Even as she says it, she’s backing her perfect ass up onto me, my cock hard as a steel pipe and weeping to be inside her.
She had her period last night, but usually by Sundays, she wasn’t bleeding anymore. Weird as hell the information you retain as someone’s boyfriend, even years after breaking up with them. Thinking about hovering over her as I stroke inside her nearly has me coming in my pants, no matter how blissed out I am.
“None of them are going to realize anything is going on. They’re in there right now debating whether a crabby patty would be better than a Whopper. I think we’re in the clear.”
She seems to waver for a moment, and I wonder if she’ll tell me no. I’m not naive, I know I have the upper hand between us. But the more I see a change in Bevan, the more unsure I am that when push comes to shove, I’ll be able to stop whatever this new thing is happening between us.
For a split second, I think about mentioning to her that we should just keep this casual. That this doesn’t have to be a thing, it can just be some fun or some convenient sex.
But that would be such a fucking lie. I’d only be protecting myself from the inevitable mess that’s going to rain down on our heads. Plus, I have no idea what I want anymore. When I broke up with Bevan, I was so sure it was for both of our own good. And then I spent almost two years moping, miserable, and not moving on. When I finally attempted to, the only person I thought about was her.
Sex between us will never be casual, especially because we’re each other’s one and only. So, while I can put off the conversation, both of us can turn our cheeks at the fact that we’re falling into the same old traps of not communicating but being physical instead.
There is no denying that we’re diving headlong back into something.
The question is, will whatever this is actually last?
21
CALLUM
In the end, Bevan and I jumped apart when Amelie came trotting into the kitchen. She got distracted and they ended up making nachos together.
The entire house pigged out until we passed out, and I dragged myself to bed alone even though my boner was still raging. It’s probably for the best, since sleeping together would have completely changed the dynamic we have going. Although we’ve hooked up, it wasn’t sex. And once that happens—because I’ll probably do it since I’m a masochist—there is no going back. We’ll be forced to confront this thing, and I’m still not ready. I know I’m the one who always wished we would talk things out more, that Bevan would get help, but it’s terrifying actually looking that moment in the face.
Yet, I can also see all the ways I failed her. Maybe I’m not ready to take full accountability for just skating by with her. I could have been so much more of an attentive boyfriend. Lord knows, she deserved it after what she went through with her own parents.
For now, though, we’ll keep skating this thin line where we don’t talk about the elephant in the room and instead touch in dark corners or steal hidden glances.
Tonight, I’m out with the guys after Scott forced us to be his wingmen. Things with Sabrina went south after the entire house ganged up on him for how she treated Bevan at the comedy club. He agreed, and said her set wasn’t even that funny, so he couldn’t continue to hook up with her.
Right now, I’m watching as he chats up two blond girls who cannot possibly be twenty-one.
“They’re freshman, right?” I clink my beer against Gannon’s.
“Have to be. They get hotter and hotter, lord help us. I’m a happily taken, man but this shit is confusing when they can now get into bars. A lot of the bouncers don’t even care that their IDs look nothing like them.”
Checking the girls out, I can agree that they’re hot, but they hold no appeal for me.
“When do you fly out to LA again?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
All I’ve been thinking about lately is a freaking woman, and I need tonight to just unwind.
“End of this week, the shooting schedule is brutal. We work sixteen-hour days, sometimes until four in the morning. I fucking love it, though.” His smile is ear to ear.
“I’m happy for you, man.” We take a sip in celebration.
“And me for you. I feel like we both didn’t have a clear path, just these indications of things we liked to do. We’ve really become men the past year, huh?”
I consider that for a minute. “I guess we have. Working at the summer camp really gave me a purpose. It showed me what I actually wanted to do with my life. You, though, you’ve got it all figured out. The career, the girl, the money. Damn, the money.”
He chuckles. “That is a nice benefit. After being poor for so long or wondering how I was going to help my family, the money does make the acting sweeter.”
Gannon’s mother is a deadbeat with a bunch of baby daddies and no real gene for parenting. Gannon practically raised his brothers and sisters, and now that he has a high-profile job, he can provide for them in a way that he never was as a child.