WW3 is in my future, I can sense that shit coming when he finds out.
Today, I lift weights and run my miles. Coach has me run practices with next season’s players, passing on my wisdom, I soak in their shiny devotion like the prick I am.
See. I know what I am.
I never claimed to be an angel. I don’t act like one either.
I’m smart. Earning a good GPA through sheer ball-busting hard work.
My dating app bio would say I enjoy most sports and partying.
If me and my crew don’t have a party to go to every weekend, I’d go crazy. It’s the only thing that’s been getting me through the pressure.
Between the heavy weight of my dad’s expectations and the other shit on my mind, I need an outlet.
I use drinking and chicks like a woman on her period uses chocolate to feel better.
What the fuck ever, I’m not perfect. Refer back to the prick claim.
Bates catches up to me as I head out of the gym. He has a free ride scholarship to Wagner playing baseball. He slings his arm around my neck and grins. “What up, brosky. We skipping out?”
Our fathers are old frat buddies.
Our moms get drunk when they say they’re doing charity shit.
We’ve been friends since middle school. And I consider how he’d react if he knew I thought about dick sometimes.
One dick in particular.
The strange Fierro.
My jaw tightens when he appears in my mind, and I force my teeth to unclench and push a grin on my face. “Where do you wanna go?”
“We can hang at mine, get the girls to come over.”
I shrug. Not caring about the details.
He starts to tell me about the movie he was watching last night with his hook-up buddy. How she sucked his dick so good he forgot the whole plot and had to watch it a second time when she left.
I know her skill firsthand. She can suck a brain out through a dick. But I realize it’s been some time since I’ve had my own stories to throw into the mix.
I can’t acknowledge why that is or I’ll get pissed off all over again.
Half grunting my agreement when he reels off names he’s inviting over. I don’t give a fuck to be honest. My head isn’t interested in getting off with anyone today.
Until I watch a familiar matte black BMW pull into the parking lot. My veins constrict and buzz beneath my skin.
“You listening to me?” Bates shoulder checks me. I switch my gaze and blink. “Yeah, yeah. You go on, I’ll be over soon.”
“Bring booze. Mom will go apeshit if I empty her liquor cabinet again. I’ll get the weed and fire up a game.”
“Sounds good,” I mutter. Bates ties his chin-length hair in a bun, then hauls his ass into his Cruiser. My full gaze is on the little shit climbing from his car across the parking lot.
Where is the nerd going this early?
I watch him head toward the gym, a sports bag in his hand, his head dipped over a notebook as usual. How he doesn’t walk into shit, I don’t know.
He’s not the type I’d take for working out. He’s long and lean, sure. About my height, but he’s more brains than brawn.
My interest spikes, same as my blood as it rushes through my ears. My gaze lazily takes him in. Black trackies mold to his long legs and a red sleeveless shirt displays a hard chest I didn’t know he had under his baggy hoodie tops.
Fuck me. I’m biting the inside of my cheek with fury as I look at him until I taste metallic blood.
I’m not gay.
I’ve never thought about a guy in that way.
And then this fool rocks up in my life and tips my brain upside down. The want drowns me.
I have no care who enjoys banging guys, before anyone throws homophobic outbursts in my face. Each to their own. But when it crash lands in my life, after a diet of pussy and tits, it knocks the air out of me.
It’s a chemical imbalance or something. I looked it up.
I’m not attracted to the nerd.
Not interested in the pout of his lower lip or the light in his eyes. I don’t watch the way he holds the spiral backed books he carries like bibles, and I don’t want to know what his ass feels like in my hands.
I swallow hard and turn away from Sage Fierro walking through the doors to the pool.
Bates smirks when he clocks where I’m looking. Having witnessed my torment, he thinks it’s hilarious.
“What’s it gonna be today, slash his tires? Steal something?”
My stomach muscles clench up like a fist at his cruelty enjoyment. My instinct screams at me to defend Sage. Which is crazy, seeing as I’m the one messing with him.
I’ve turned into my father without realizing.
“Nah,” I finally squeeze out through my tight throat, knocking my knuckles on his open car door as he starts it up. I take a step back. “See you in a few, bro.”
“Don’t be long. I can’t handle all the babes alone. Actually…” he flashes a smirk. “I can. There’s a lot of me to go around.”
I laugh, we bump fists and it’s only as Bates drives off do I let my body tension go limp and I turn on my heel fast.
Without caution, I’m following the nerds’ tracks before I can tell myself it’s an idiotic idea.
I’ve spoon fed myself a lot of lies lately. Lies I choke on.
My feelings aren’t real.
Drink. Party. Torment. Cruelty.
That’s who I am.
I hate a gay guy not because he’s tried to kiss me, come on to me, or even show an interest in me. Only because my body reacted to his when we bumped. And then he infiltrated my thoughts thereafter.
I’m holding someone else accountable for my chemical rewiring.
It’s nothing to do with him being a hot little shit and noticing how hot he is.
He is flames in a sea of ice. A glass of water after a five-hour workout.
He’s a tight fist around a needy cock.
I can’t stop thinking about him or how he looks at me as though he pities me.
I’m levels above Fierro and he pities me.
It’s as though he’s figured me out.
And I hate it.
I don’t want him to see through my facade.
And at the same time, I do anything I can for him to look at me.
Pathetic.
My feet eat up the steps. My heart is frantic. And when I smell the chlorine in the air, I’m in time to see him dive in and cut through the water.
The nerd is a hot swimmer. He hardly makes a ripple through the water as he swims underneath. His body elongated with his arms locked together in a curve as he undulates like a fish.
I don’t realize I’m panting until I catch the noise.
My dick is hard in my pants.
He’s the only guy I’ve gotten hard for.
Over the months, I’ve put myself through a barrage of gay porn in hopes of… what? That I’m gay now and it’s not just the nerd who does it for me?
I’d understand it better if I were gay for every man and not just him.
But it doesn’t matter how many dicks I watch being sucked; nothing stirs me like he does.
What does that mean?
I’m angry and it’s not his fault.
But knowing that won’t stop me.
I’m compelled, as always.
It’s as though I’m not myself around him.
Unstable.
Unhinged.
Horny.
Gay as fuck?