Page 16 of Coming Clean

Connor

I slid down the wall and dropped my head onto my knees.

How the fuck had I managed to screw up this badly?

Jeremy was even better in real life than in my fantasies—his lips softer, his touch more certain, his mouth…

God, the things his mouth could do. I’d been sucked off plenty of times—boot camp, Afghanistan, even a time or two since I got back stateside.

But those times, I was always distracted, worrying about getting caught, or wondering why I was letting some guy I hated wrap his lips around my dick in a place that smelled like diesel and despair.

With Jeremy, none of that existed. The world narrowed to him, to what he was doing to me.

I’d never been that consumed before. When his mouth was on me, I would’ve promised anything, done anything, as long as he didn’t stop.

Anything except admit how goddamn good it felt.

Fuck! Why couldn’t I talk to him afterward?

Or act like a rational adult instead of a fucking freak?

I’ve been ashamed of wanting men plenty of times.

And because of that, I hadn’t always treated them well.

I wasn’t proud of that. But I’d never acted like a goddamn mental patient after sex before.

Would he ever want to see me again? And even if he did…

could I face him? I was a fucking recon Marine and a poet had me curled up in a ball on the floor. What the actual fuck?

My phone blasted some song from the coffee table across the room.

I didn’t think my legs were steady enough to get me there, and I sure as hell didn’t want to talk to anyone, but it wouldn’t shut up.

After the second loop, I realized it wasn’t a call—it was an alarm.

The one I’d set to check on Sabrina. She said she’d be fine—didn’t need company to puke her guts out and then lie in bed quietly dying—but I wanted to be sure she was actually okay.

Get up, Marine. Act like a man.

Fat fucking chance after what happened with Jeremy.

I hauled myself up and grabbed the phone, calling Sabrina.

“I’m not dead yet,” she answered after the second ring.

“Good to hear. You need anything?”

“Not really, I…”

“Sabrina, you don’t have to tough this out.”

“Ha! That’s rich coming from you. If you insist, I’d kill for some ginger ale and Cheez-Its.”

I frowned. “Cheez-Its? That doesn’t sound?—”

“It’s what I want, okay? I’m finally hungry after twenty-four hours, and I want some fucking Cheez-Its!”

Right. I knew better than to argue when she used that tone. “I’ll bring you some. Which flavor? There’s like, a million of them now.”

“The original. The way God intended Cheez-Its to be made.”

At least she could make me smile, even when I felt like a kicked dog. “Obviously. Anything else?”

There was a pause. I wondered if she’d fallen asleep. Then: “Lemon Popsicles. My mom always gave me those when I was sick.”

“Got it. Text me if you think of anything else.”

About a half hour later, I pulled up in front of her quadplex and used my key to let myself in—thank God I didn’t have to drag her out of bed. She wasn’t in bed. Instead, she was on the couch, watching Friends .

“Were you even born when that aired?”

“Not when it started, but my freshman roommate was obsessed, and she got me hooked.”

“You want one of these now?” I asked, holding up the box of Popsicles.

She nodded, reaching out. "Yes. Thanks for getting this stuff.”

“No problem.” Better than sitting in my apartment crying like a baby after torpedoing my chances with the only guy I’d ever actually wanted more than a quick fuck from.

I set the crackers and ginger ale on the table and put the rest away. “I brought some chicken soup too, for later.”

“You’re awesome.” She smiled, already looking better. Maybe the Popsicle cure had merit. “What’d you do tonight?”

“Nothing. Just been… nothing.” I sat in the chair beside the couch.

“Jeremy didn’t stop by?”

“Wh…” Shit. Jeremy had asked her for my address. “Oh. Yes, he dropped off my supply bag.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why he called me instead of just calling you?”

I shrugged. “No idea.”

She gave me a look that could’ve made insurgents confess to war crimes. I’ve resisted terrorist interrogation. I’ve run ops under fake identities, but one glare from Sabrina, and I was ready to fold. She should seriously consider the CIA.

“Connor.”

“What?” I tried to keep my face blank.

“Are you going to tell me what happened with Jeremy or not?”

Not. “Nothing happened.”

She glared harder. “I’ve been on death’s door, watching nineties sitcoms all day. The least you could do is not lie to me.”

“Sabrina, there’s noth?—”

“Connor, do you think I’m blind?”

I leaned close, peering into her eyes. “Nope.”

She growled, and I leaned back. She wasn’t in a joking mood.

“I saw how he looked at you.”

I shrugged again, pulling on that polished Marine exterior. “So he thinks I’m hot. What am I supposed to do about that?”

“And I saw how you looked at him.”

I started to speak but she cut me off.

“Connor, I don’t care who you sleep with. I’m insulted you think I would, but I’m furious that I’ve been trying to set you up with women for over a year and you never told me you’d rather date someone with a dick.”

“I do?—”

She held up a hand. “If you’re not going to be honest, don’t say anything. I will not be lied to while I’m surviving on Popsicles.”

I opened the Cheez-Its and held them out. “I’m sorry.”

“That I’ve been sick?”

“No. That I lied to you.”

“You don’t have to say more if you’re not ready.” She popped some crackers in her mouth.

“He gave me a blow job, and I freaked.”

She choked and spat the crackers across the couch. “Holy shit!”

“You okay?” I asked as her coughing fit dragged on.

“No. You went from zero to porn in a second. What the hell?”

I looked away, cheeks burning.

“Can’t you think before you speak? Didn’t you and Mario run black ops together?”

“Good thing Jeremy wasn’t around then to fuck with my mind.”

"Yes, no kidding. Wow. Still reeling here.”

The weight of what I’d done to Jeremy came crashing back. I ran a hand through my hair. “I really screwed up.”

“Um… yes. I want to say you didn’t, but…”

“You can’t make this better.”

She tilted her head. “Maybe not. But tell me everything. From the beginning. And I don’t mean Jeremy on his knees.”

“The first time I saw him…”

“What about it?”

“That’s when it started.”

She nodded slowly. “So this gay thing… it’s not new.”

I glared. “No. I’ve… always liked men.”

“And acted on that… liking?”

“Only in secret.”

“You know you don’t have to hide anymore, right? This is Asheville, not a combat zone.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Her face said bullshit. “You were making eyes at each other, then he dropped off your bag and offered to suck your dick?”

I rubbed my face. Why the fuck did I tell her that? “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Maybe. One day. But damn, Connor.”

“I thought you noticed.”

“I saw the looks, sure, but I didn’t expect things to ramp up that fast.”

“It wasn’t?—”

“Just keep going.”

“Fine. After work today, he asked me to stay for a drink.”

“You skipped the part where you two were practically snuggling at the play.”

I groaned. “We were not.”

“His hand was on your leg, yours was on his. You were whispering.”

“He was telling me what was happening on stage.”

“He was flirting. And so were you.”

Something clicked. “Wait… did you set me up?”

She gave me a wide-eyed innocent look. “Me? Never.”

“Sabrina.”

“I saw the chemistry. I was curious what would happen.”

I sighed. “Would’ve gone better if I hadn’t acted like a goddamn idiot.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“We were talking. I told him about Mario.”

Her face lost all its color.

“I got lost in the memory. He tried to comfort me. Just touched my shoulder, but when I looked at him… I wanted him so badly. I touched him. Almost kissed him. Then I freaked and ran.”

“Why?”

“He makes me feel things I don’t want to feel.”

“Like lust?”

“I’ve accepted that I like men, but with Jeremy… it’s more. It’s not just about sex.”

“Then what?”

“I want… all of it. Conversation. Flirting. Dinner. Plays. A relationship.” I sighed. “But I’ve probably blown that chance.”

“Are you willing to work as hard for it as you did building your company?”

Work I understood. Relationships? That felt like free-falling without a chute.

“I’m not sure I know how.”

“Then tell him that.”

I stared at her. She couldn’t be serious.

“He deserves honesty.”

“I’m not leading him on.”

She gave me a look. I’d been flirting, then bolting. That’s exactly what leading someone on looked like.

“Have you thought about therapy?”

I shook my head. “After that last mission? I’m done with that bullshit.”

“Maybe you didn’t have the right therapist.”

She could be right, but I wasn’t ready to try again. “It’s not going to help me to talk about this.”

“You might be surprised.”

I couldn't deal with that now. Too much noise in my head. “Why is this so fucking hard?”

“Coming out is hard for a lot of people.”

“I know it’s okay up here—” I tapped my temple. “—but saying it? I can’t.”

“Call Jeremy. Be honest. Apologize. Say what you can.”

She was right. But right didn’t mean easy.

“I—”

“No excuses. Call him tonight.”

I shook my head. I wasn’t ready.

“If you wait, it will only get harder.”

“Fine. You need anything else?”

“I’ll eat a little more, then sleep. I’ll call if I can’t work tomorrow.”

“It’s just a move-out clean. Irene and I can handle it.”

She nodded. “Now get out of here. And call him.”

“I will.” Maybe.