Page 21

So, what’s my excuse now?

Harrison Price.

The last time I’d seen him was on New Year’s Eve. I never thought I’d see him again. I hadhopedI’d never see him again.

No, that’s a lie.

I’ve beendyingto see him. The kiss we shared that night awoke something in me that had been dormant for far too long.

Pressing my back against the cool concrete column, I seek refuge in its strength. My heart threatens to beat right out of my chest. My lungs have constricted to the point that black spots dance in my vision. My legs tremble, barely keeping me upright.

Seeing Harrison here, now, after all this time, has thrown me completely off-kilter.

It reminds me of my confusing high school days. On the surface, I had it all—the hot girlfriends, the popularity, the admiration of my classmates and teachers. But beneath my carefully crafted exterior, a war was raging.

By day, I was making out with girls, my hands roaming beneath their clothes. By night, I was alone in my room, where very different fantasies would play out.

There was Ethan, this guy in my art class, on his knees with his lips wrapped around my cock. Liam, my neighbor, pinning me against the side of the house, thrusting in and out of my ass at a relentless pace. Other times, it was faceless male figures, their strong hands and hard bodies bringing me to explosive heights of pleasure as I stroked myself frantically.

Each orgasm brought on a tidal wave of shame and confusion.

I’m not gay,I’d tell myself.

I couldn’t be. I liked girls.

But then, the very next night, I’d be going at it again, my fingers trailing down my body and nestling in that sensitive spot behind my balls. I never dared to travel any further, fearing that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to deny the truth any longer.

I liked girls, yes. But I liked guys too.

When I met Olivia, I forced my other urges into the dark recesses of my mind, locked the door, and threw away the key. It wasn’t easy; I’d gotten used to getting off to pictures and videos of guys with their cocks in their hands, a toy in their ass. But if I wanted to give her my heart, mywholeheart, I had no choice but to bury those desires.

And then Harrison came onto the scene and blew the locked door right off. When his lips met mine, it was magical.

I know that sounds odd to say, like how can a kiss bemagical? But it was. Where Olivia made out with a certain finesse, Harrison was raw and feral.

I thought that I could chalk it up to the moment, to the fact that I had a lot of alcohol coursing through me. But then I kissed Charlie, and I knew. I’d never be the same.

I suck in a sharp breath as the sounds around me become amplified. The murmur of voices. The clatter of a metal chair being dragged across the concrete floor. I close my eyes andtell myself that it’s not out of the realm of possibility that Harrison is here. He’s a graffiti artist; this is an art gallery. Naturally, the two shall meet.

Opening my eyes, I follow him around the room, mingling with the guests, showing them to their seats, the bar, and the restrooms down the hall. That’s when it hits me. He’s not here for pleasure.

He’s dressed in all black—black shirt, black pants, black shoes—and a gray tie. The same outfit as some of the other men who are strategically placed around the room. This…is his job.

Harrison cuts a path toward where I’m hiding. I press myself further against the column, hoping to somehow dissolve into it. Perhaps I can become a stain or a crack—anything that’ll allow me to go unnoticed.

I don’t want Harrison to see me. Not now; not like this. What would I even say? “Hey, remember me? I’m the guy you made out with on New Year’s Eve. The one you made harder than steel.”Yeah, I probably shouldn’t start with that.

My nerves are going haywire, each one shouting a different warning, a different fear. I can’t think straight. Not about Harrison, not about this slam, not about anything at all. I thought I was past all of this, past the dizziness and the confusion, the panic that paralyzes me. But here I am, a mess all over again.

“Dude, why are you hiding behind a column?”

I jump out of my skin at the sound of Charlie’s voice. He sidles up beside me, wearing a quizzical expression as he takes a swig from a can of soda.

“I’m not hiding,” I say through clenched teeth, even though I damn well am. “I’m appreciating the art on the walls. From a different angle.”

Charlie scoffs, not buying the bullshit excuse. He cranes his head around the column to follow my gaze. I count the number of seconds it takes for him to spot Harrison. I only get to two before Charlie breathes out a “holy shit.”

“Is that…”