Page 12

James

“ W hat are you doing here?” I ask as Ev sneaks into my bedroom, closing the door behind him with a quiet snick .

My cheeks flame in the semi-darkness of my room, lit only by the lamp on my bedside table, because if he had been even five minutes later, he would have caught me with my hand down my pants. As it is, I quickly snap the lid of my laptop shut, not wanting him to see the porn I was loading up.

The gay porn.

That’s a revelation I’ve been trying to avoid: the fact that I seriously do get off thinking about other men. But ever since Ev and I started helping each other out, it’s all I’ve been able to think about.

“I…” Ev steps towards the bed, then hesitates, biting his lip.

It’s not often that I see him anything but confident, so it has me sitting up straighter against the headboard. “Ev?”

“I wanted to talk to you…” he says, and something in his tone makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up straighter. “It…it couldn’t wait. I…” Scrubbing his palm over his face, he mutters, “Fuck. I’m making a mess of this already.”

“Evan,” I say his name in the same tone I usually use when Mia’s pushing boundaries. It seems to startle my best friend out of his head and his attention snaps to my face, his gorgeous dark eyes wide with surprise. I pat the space beside me. God knows he should feel comfortable in my bed by now. “Sit. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He eyes the space beside me warily and my heart squeezes.

Has he worked it out? That I have feelings for him, I mean. That I’ve broken the rules of our friends-with-benefits arrangement? That I’ve gone and made things between us weird?

When he steels himself and sits, I shove my discarded laptop off the bed entirely. It crashes to the carpet with a dull thud , but all of my attention is on Evan.

“What’s wrong?” I repeat, this time more softly. Cautiously. Because I’m terrified of his answer.

“We’re…um,” he starts, then stops and takes a long, calming breath. In…and out. He clears his throat, then looks me in the eye. His expression is surprisingly serious and unreadable.

My heart plummets to my stomach.

He knows .

I open my mouth to speak, but I have no idea what to say.

He takes the decision for me.

“We’re not fake dating,” he says firmly. “Or fake engaged.”

“W-what?”

“We’re not…” he licks his lips. “Jay. We’re actually dating.”

That…is not at all what I thought he was going to say.

I blink. “Uh…?”

“We go out to dinner. Or have dinner here. We share our thoughts about our days, our jobs, the shows and movies we wanna watch…”

“Yeah, but we’ve always—”

He holds up his index finger and places it over my lips. “I’m not done, baby.”

Baby.

My brain short-circuits.

Oblivious, Ev keeps talking, “My point is, we go on dates. We kiss. We have sex. Jay, we’re dating. For real. And,” he swallows roughly, Adam’s apple bobbing as he reaches for my hand. My left hand. He thumbs over the tacky fake engagement ring I haven’t yet taken off for the night. “I…don’t feel like this is fake, either. I mean, the ring is, and maybe we can fix that one day, but…what it stands for. The promise of forever. I…I feel like that’s real, too.”

Holy shit , I think to myself, the reality of his words hitting me in the chest.

I think of the months we’ve spent pretending to be a couple. I think about how effortless that has felt. How holding his hand and kissing him for show hasn’t really felt like it was for show at all.

I’ve enjoyed it.

Then there’s the fact that it spilled over into our private lives. That we’ve been going out on dates under the guise of best friends just hanging out. Only best friends don’t come home afterwards to exchange hand jobs, do they?

“Oh my God,” I exhale, certain that shock is written all over my face as the truth of it all sinks in. “We’re dating.”

Ev nods, still stroking his thumb over my gaudy ring, and he lets out a breathy, nervous-sounding laugh. “Are you…okay with that?”

“Are you? Because…I thought you were straight.”

Ev snorts. “I’m pretty sure straight men don’t feel the way I do about kissing other guys. Even when it’s their best mate.”

The feelings I’ve kept buried since we were fourteen start to dig their way out of their too-shallow graves. Then again, I was just watching gay porn: who the hell am I trying to kid?

I can feel my heart beating rapidly, as afraid of labelling myself now as I was as a teenager. “Oh.”

As if he can read my mind, Evan hurries to add, “But I’m not telling you how to feel or how to identify yourself. I’m just saying that for me…I might be realising a few things.”

I bite my lip. He reaches out and gently tugs it free with his thumb, and I freeze when he does. He carefully retracts his hand and offers me a lopsided smile. It makes my stomach flutter.

“Yeah,” he muses, “I’m…not straight. Maybe bi? Maybe pan? I don’t really care about the label at this point.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “Nothing about me is any different with a label.” That damned smile is back. “I’m still the same Evan I’ve always been, just with a bit more self-awareness.”

It takes me a moment before I quietly confess, “You’ve always been braver than me.”

He brings a hand up to cup my cheek and my eyes flutter closed as he speaks. “You don’t have to label yourself. We don’t have to put a label on this…and, yeah, I know I just have by saying we’re really dating, but we can just—”

“I’ve had a crush on you since we were fourteen.” My heart is somehow torn between hammering inside my ribcage and squeezing itself to death. Is this a heart attack? It feels like it might be.

“What?”

“I…that night. The one we don’t talk about. I…” Fuck, I can’t do it. It’s somehow even more humiliating to admit it now than it was back then.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ev’s voice is soothing as he pulls me in for a hug. I go willingly, resting my head on his shoulder while his big, warm palm strokes my back. “It’s just me. I’m never gonna judge you, Jay.”

“I…” It should be easier to do this without looking at him. I breathe in the scent of his cologne, faded but embedded in the fibres of his white cotton t-shirt, and I take a deep breath. “You were having a wet dream…all moaning and stuff…and I…I was awake and I…”

“Jerked off watching me?” he asks calmly, without a hint of amusement or censure. His voice is a low rumble through his chest, vibrating against mine, and I nod, unable to speak past the lump which has suddenly formed in my throat.

“ Baby ,” he repeats the endearment that he has only ever used during our moments of ‘helping each other out’. “James” —my breathing hitches because we never really use our full names, either, and, oddly, I like the way he says it— “we were fourteen. A stiff breeze would have me jerking off sometimes.” We both chuckle, then his voice softens as he asks, “Why didn’t you say anything? About your crush?”

“You kept talking about Sasha McNaught’s tits, for one thing,” I answer, cringing when what was supposed to be a playful retort comes out bitter to my own ears. He must hear it, too, because he rubs my back a little bit harder, and I forge on, “And I was…confused, I guess. I liked girls, too, and I thought—I thought it was just a weird hormonal thing and it would go away. And I thought it did…until we started this whole fake relationship thing.”

“Which isn’t really fake anymore.”

“Was it ever?”

“I mean,” he snorts lightly, “we both thought it was. It’s hard to draw a line, though, when we were already so close. But, I mean it: we don’t need to label ourselves or whatever this is between us.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m bi,” I mumble into his shoulder, feeling an elated sort of fluttering in my chest at how much easier that was to say than I assumed it would be. Maybe his bravery and confidence has rubbed off on me? Maybe just knowing that I’m not alone in this is enough for me to be brave, too? “And I want to call you my…boyfriend? Partner?”

“Best mate. Fiancé. Lover. All of the above.”

I screw my nose up and pull back. “Lover? Really?”

He waggles his eyebrows and coos, “What about paramour? Flame? Love muffin?”

It’s impossible to keep a straight face. I slap a hand over my mouth to contain the bark of laughter that just attempted to escape. “Stop it,” I hiss at him. “Mia’s home.”

Even though the seriousness of our conversation has passed, his jovial mood shifts back into a softer one. “How is she?”

“Better. Back at school…until Friday, anyway. Then it’s school holidays for two weeks.”

“You want me to take some time off to hang out with her? I’ve got heaps of leave…what?”

I’m sure I’m the human personification of the heart-eyed emoji right now. “I love you,” I tell him, as if my face isn’t giving all my thoughts away. I grasp the back of his neck and tug him towards me, crushing my lips to his in a kiss that has been building up for over twenty years.

There’s no guilt this time. No fear. No worries that he will find out my sad, sordid secret feelings for him. Because they’re not sad, or sordid, or even a secret anymore.

I kiss him with every ounce of elation and liberation I feel. For the first time ever, I am being completely honest with myself and with him. The fact that he reciprocates my long-held feelings is almost unbelievable.

His fingers in my hair and the gentle way he’s pushing me onto my back are so real, though. His breath, turning ragged and needy against my lips, is real. The scratch of his beard against my day’s growth of stubble is real. And his erection rubbing up next to mine is very fucking real.

“Can you be quiet?” I ask him when he groans and ruts against me. “Because if you can’t, we’re gonna have to stop for now.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, still rocking his hips, “we’re not stopping…but I need you naked.”

I prop up on my elbows. “Naked?” In all the weeks we’ve been pretending to be best friends with benefits, we’ve stayed dressed in one way or another. Cocks have been exposed, jerked off, rubbed against each other and sucked, but we’ve never been completely without clothes.

I can’t help feeling like a virginal teenager again, suddenly unsure of my dad bod next to his athletic one.

Ev sits back up on his knees between my spread legs, resting his butt on his heels while he strokes his hands over my thighs and calves. “Jay…baby, you know I’ve seen you naked a million times.”

“Yeah, but…”

I wasn’t trying to turn him on then. That was just guys getting changed after gym sessions, or beach days, or that one ill-fated game of squash he made me play. This is different.

“The only butt I want to hear about is yours. Or—no.” He smirks. “Mine. When you fuck it.”

“Jesus Christ, Ev.”

“Not tonight,” he adds, probably able to read my trepidation at having that sprung on me on top of everything else tonight. “I’d want time to prepare. Clean house properly and stuff, y’know? And…I love Mimi, but…”

“I get it. I’d rather have the house to ourselves, too. At least for the first time. Assuming you like it enough for other times.” My eyes widen as another thought hits me, adding to my fear that he won’t find my body sexy enough. “What if I’m bad at it? What if…Ev, what if we don’t like it?”

“Then we don’t like it,” he shrugs.

“But…” my throat tightens up with mounting panic and, despite my best efforts, I sound like I’m on the verge of tears when I continue, “how could we stay together if we don’t like the sex?”

“Anal isn’t the only way to have sex.”

“But—”

“Have you enjoyed the bjs? The handies? Rubbing off against each other?”

I nod, my cheeks burning. “But…I haven’t…y’know…”

“If you can’t talk about sex, Jay, you shouldn’t be having it,” he teases, using the same line I’ve been throwing at Mia since I gave her The Talk.

I take the bait, rolling my eyes. “Blown you. I haven’t blown you.” I hesitate before asking, “What happens if I suck?”

“That’s kind of the idea.”

“ Ugh. Evan. I’m being serious.”

He sniggers. “I know. And it’s adorable.”

“I swear to God, you can get out of my house if you’re just going to mock me.”

“Baby, have you ever had a blow job you hated? Like, even your first one? When Michelle Parker used her teeth?”

I wince at the memory. I’d still come all over her face —accidentally— when I was pulling away from those very same teeth. So sue me, the wet suction of her mouth was still pretty damn amazing and… oh.

“You’ll be fine,” Ev nods, as if reading my mind. “And if you hate giving head, that’s okay, too. We can buy toys and find what works and what doesn’t.”

“And you’d be okay with that?” I can’t help double checking. “A life without getting head? A life without fucking someone? A life without being fucked.”

“Yep,” he nods, then grins. “ Toys , James. Toys, and lube, and coming in every other way with the man I love.” His expression slackens with surprise, and he blushes a little. “Huh. I’ve never said it out loud before. Not like that.” He cocks his head. “I love a man. Wow .”

“Is reality kicking in now? You finally going to have a panic attack-slash-identity crisis? Because I’ve been having one for twenty-odd years.”

Laughing softly, he shakes his head. “Yeah, nah,” he answers. “Just…kinda’ hit me. Putting it like that. Hearing myself say it.” Then he leers. “And you’re still not naked.”

I roll my eyes, but move to sit up so I can tug my shirt over my head. I’m just about to chuck it on the floor when there’s a knock at my door, causing both me and Ev to freeze.

“Mia?” I ask, as if it could possibly be anyone else.

“Yeah,” her voice is tentative on the other side. “Um. Are you…uh…I thought I heard voices.”

I lock eyes with my best friend (my…boyfriend?) and see my thoughts mirrored on his face.

Shit.