Page 73 of Bobby Green

Dammit, that wasn’t fair either!

Reg’s breath was coming faster in his chest, and he wondered what was wrong with him, that he’d be crying now. Today. How was it that he had such a wonderful thing happen in his life, but he felt like he could cry for hours?

He must have heard Bobby’s tread on the stairs, because his hand on Reg’s shoulder wasn’t shocking.

“Whatya see?” Bobby asked quietly, near his ear.

Reg turned and shut the door. “My sister,” he said simply. “She’s not a monster, but she’s not easy to deal with either.”

“No,” Bobby said, pulling Reg close so their bodies touched. “Not easy.” He still smelled fresh from the shower, and his chest stretched the hell out of Reg’s old T-shirt, the same way his cock threatened to hang out of his old basketball shorts. The results were sexy as hell, but for once, Reg’d had his fill of sex and needed to do some talking.

“But she’s part of my life,” Reg said, like maybe Bobby hadn’t figured this out in all the time he’d spent at Reg’s house,notbeing a boyfriend, just being a friend.

“I know it.”

“You’ll get tired of it quick,” Reg told him, wanting to be honest.

“But not tired of you.” Bobby kissed his forehead, and Reg remembered when his sister used to do that for him. It was a sweet thing—a thing that didn’t ask anything from a person, just gave all the reassurance possible.

“Good.” Reg rested his head against Bobby’s chest.

“Ready for some TVnow?” Bobby’s arms tightened around his shoulders.

“God yes. And some dessert—we bought cookies.”

“Yeah.”

The rest of the night was about as perfect as it could get. They lay on the couch, feet in each other’s laps, desultorily rubbing because they both agreed that felt nice. They ate cookies and milk and watched a movie with lots of explosions and very little dialog, and then, when Reg started nodding off, Bobby grabbed his hand and pulled him to bed.

It was not a new experience, sleeping in bed with a man—or even with Bobby, for that matter. Reg kept waiting for that moment when he woke up with Bobby’s hand on his stomach or his hip or his back, that long, rangy body pressed up against Reg’s, and realized that he’d done something irrevocable.

It didn’t happen.

Instead they murmured to each other quietly as they fell asleep, talking about the TV show, about their plans for tomorrow—Bobby had to go back to his apartment and get new clothes—and when their next shoot was.

Reg closed his eyes midsentence, talking about how he was glad Scott wasn’t on the schedule anymore because the guy would fuck your ear hole if he thought it would get a better shot, and fell asleep.

Sometime in the night he got up to pee and paused in the light from the bathroom to see if it reallywasBobby, after so many months without.

He slept on his stomach, his head turned toward Reg’s empty pillow, arm flung out like he was trying to possess Reg even in sleep.

Reg remembered the times Ethan had stayed over, with his craving for touch, and he remembered rubbing Ethan’s back—literally, for hours—but Ethan had never tried to claim him like that. Dex had stayed here a time or two, but Dex had that sweet way of disengaging. Reg had learned a lot from him, actually, about how to sleep with someone without giving them the impression it meant anything. Lance tended to fold over him, but protectively, like Reg was a child. Trey slept in his own corner, arms folded, as solitary as a baseball in a case.

In his mind he flipped through the incredibly long list of guys who had slept here, in Reg’s bed, for fun, for company, to make sure Reg didn’t have to be alone, and not once did he remember a guy who just possessed Reg, sure and honest.

Bobby’s eyes fluttered open, and he squinted against the light. “Come back to bed,” he ordered. “That light is skewering my eyeballs like a shish kebab.”

Reg laughed softly. “That’s gross, Bobby.”

The man in his bed grunted. “What are you looking at?”

“You. You’re just… beautiful.” It wasn’t a manly word. Straight men didn’t call other menbeautiful. Reg had certainly never thought of a man that way, in spite of all the guys he’d fucked.

But then, maybe Reg had never been straight; maybe Bobby was right. The thing inside him that could let him picture having Bobby in his bed every night forever—that wasn’t a straight-guy thing, not even a straight guy who fucked other guys for convenience.

Bobby blinked those big brown-green eyes at him. “That’s sweet, Reg. Why’s it sound like you’re afraid to say it?”

“You said you were gay.” Reg shrugged. “And I’m probably bi. And it just hit me. I think you’re beautiful. I want you in my bed. That’s… that’s real. I’m not going to get hit by a bolt of lightning that says I’m different or you’re different or my life has changed. That thing in me, it’s always been there.” He shrugged, feeling this in his gut. “I was just too piss-stupid to know it.”