Page 11 of Ctrl+Alt Submit

AARYN

“ H uh.” Maybe talking to Errol is therapeutic, because I’m surprised how much better I feel than I did when I first left New York City without any real plan or sense of where I was actually going.

Even though the hurt and embarrassment of being cheated on and the upheaval of selling my business are still in the back of my head, they’re not filling my thoughts like they were before.

I feel more or less at peace. And that’s because of him.

A swell of gratitude rises in my chest as the rain pours down around us.

I scoot over on the truck’s shitty bench seat, all the way until my leg touches Errol’s, and lean my head on his shoulder.

“You’ve always been a good listener. I hope your customers appreciate you.

I didn’t always — I think maybe I took you for granted,” I say hesitantly.

“But I sure appreciate the hell out of you right now.”

Errol sighs heavily. Under the weight of it, my heart splinters a little.

I lift my head up, about to say something, but his voice interrupts my thoughts.

“You can stay there,” he says quietly. “Reminds me of how you’d fall asleep on me sometimes when we were watching a movie or whatever back in high school.

” He falls silent for a moment before adding, “I used to like that —you know, being close.”

Impulsively, I turn towards him. I don’t know what comes over me that compels me to press my lips against the white hair at his temple.

“I’m proud of who you became after we graduated,” I say.

“I know you said you were proud of me, but I’m proud of you, too.

And it hurts when I hear you talk about yourself in a way I literally can’t even imagine you talking about anybody else. ”

He snorts. “Whatever. I’ve always been fat.”

“Dude, you’re not fat .”

“Shut up. I am.”

“Goddammit. Stop .”

“OK, fine. I was fat.”

“So what?” I can hear the frustration in my voice, so I know Errol can, too. “I was a skinny nerd who got my glasses ripped off my face on, like, a weekly basis.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell not a skinny nerd now. You went and turned into a stud on me.”

Is… Errol flirting with me? Did I invite that? Did he just feel like he had to respond like that because I sat close to him and leaned against him?

“You’re not doing so bad yourself there,” I tell him. A look I can’t read flickers across his face.

“You think I look better than I did in high school?” Even though our faces are just inches apart, his voice is so quiet I have a tough time hearing him over the rain. “Even with —” he runs a hand through his hair with a grimace, “ this ? ”

“Uh-huh. You carry yourself like a man who knows how to get shit done —you look confident.”

He gives me a faint smile. “I put up a good front.” I watch something sad pass through his eyes before he gives his head a little shake. “Well, between your glasses and that jawline, you remind me of Clark Kent,” he says.

I frown. “Is that supposed to be… a compliment? Like, a sexy Clark Kent?”

“What? Clark Kent is sexy!” he retorts. To my surprise, he spins himself around in his seat and abruptly straddles me, plunking down right onto my lap. I’m acutely conscious of his ass, the weight of him settling onto my thighs, his close proximity to my cock.

There’s definitely something hungry about the way his eyes rake over me. “But if it makes you feel better, then yes — a sexy Clark Kent.”

He’s looking at me like he expects a response.

I smirk and roll my eyes, mostly to distract myself from an inconvenient, embarrassing realization: My dick doesn’t mind Errol on my lap like this at all .

The drumming of the rain echoes in my head as I try to sort out this impossible tangle of thoughts.

For somebody who’s supposed to be smart, I feel incredibly stupid sometimes.

I mean, I like women. Ever since the hormonal haze of pubescence when I began to realize my dick had opinions about things, I took the thought in stride without further examination.

I never dug more deeply, never flipped the question over and asked myself if I just liked women.

I mean, obviously I notice if a guy is attractive —but everybody does that, right?

I realize I’m having this entirely dumbass conversation with myself so I don’t have to think about the fact that Errol basically just called me sexy. When I shift, maybe a little awkwardly, beneath him, his face changes. He cringes.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m probably crushing you,” he says hurriedly. He puts his hands on the back of the seat on either side of my head as if to push off of me.

My arms seem to operate of their own free will, reaching out to encircle his waist. “No, you’re good. Why would you think that?”

Errol drops his eyes. “Um, because I weigh a lot and I’m sitting on your lap.”

I frown. “Come on. I know I’m kind of skinny, but you’re not going to fucking break me. Keep your ass right where it is.” Errol’s eyes go wide. Huh. Guess he wasn’t yanking my chain when he said he likes guys getting bossy with him.

My gaze is drawn to his mouth as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth. I have a sudden, inexplicable wish that it was my teeth there instead, that I was the one trapping Errol’s full lip so I could run my tongue over it.

What the hell is happening? Also, how did I manage to never notice how attractive Errol’s lips are before?

His hands are still on either side of my head, arms caging me in. His lips part and his pupils dilate while I hold him there. My brain doesn’t tell my body to get closer, but the next thing I know, our faces are only a breath apart.

I can’t make my eyes look anywhere except Errol’s mouth. He makes a little noise in his throat. When his tongue darts out to trace the inside rim of his upper lip, a strange, warm effervescence fills my belly.

I lift my gaze but it doesn’t free me of this buzzy sensation that’s making my head swim. The only thing I can focus on clearly are the amber flecks that light up the luminous brown of Errol’s eyes. I feel the heat of his exhalation an instant before his warm lips press into mine.

Kissing my best friend on the mouth should feel strange.

Feeling Errol’s lips against my own and opening my mouth for his exploring tongue should feel awkward and reckless.

It should feel like the biggest fucking mistake in the world, reaching out to clasp his nape and threading my fingers through his hair to hold the two of us together as the heat of his lips seeps into my own.

I do it anyway.

I don’t understand why this feels like a first kiss. I’ve kissed enough women that I feel like I know what I’m doing. But kissing Errol is like doing a hard reset on my brain. It’s like I’m just exploring everything for the first time. And I don’t want to let his mouth go until I figure it out.

He opens his lips with a little whimper that echoes in my mouth.

It’s just different than kissing a woman.

Errol’s lips are surprisingly soft, but firmer than what I’m used to.

The slight rasp of stubble around his mouth sends a jagged pulse of energy straight to my dick.

There’s an urgency in the way he seeks out my tongue with his.

He tastes sweet in a way I can’t articulate.

I wish this kiss was something I could devour and swallow whole.

My eyes slip shut. The only sensations my brain registers are the drumming of the rain, the feeling of Errol on my lap and his lips locked onto mine. I lick inside of his mouth, hungry for more of him. When did he start to taste so good? Or did he always taste this good and I just never knew?

Fuck it. The entire world could catch fire right now and I wouldn’t give a damn, because what’s burning inside of my chest right now is brighter, hotter and hungrier than any combustion in the history of the universe, all the way back to the big fucking bang.

Supernovas, my ass. They’ve got nothing on the sweetness of Errol’s lips or the low, urgent whine that vibrates in his throat when I bury my tongue in his mouth.

After a stretch that feels like a split-second and forever at the same time, we pull our lips apart. “Holy shit,” Errol gasps out, his breath coming hard. He huffs out a little laugh. “Goddamn, Ran. I’ve wanted to do that at least since the middle of junior year.”

“Really?” The movement of my lips is sluggish, as if my mouth has to relearn how to work now that Errol isn’t connected to me anymore.

“Yeah.” He looks deep into my eyes like he’s searching for something. “Did you like that?” he asks quietly, almost shyly. I nod, holding eye contact. Errol gives me a little smile. “We’re gonna do that again, then, right?”

“Uh-huh, for sure,” I murmur, my voice raspy from the heat racing through my veins. Errol scoots himself off my lap and I slide behind the steering wheel again.

I look at him, perplexed. “You had a crush on me since junior year?” This is mind-blowing new information.

Errol looks sheepish. “Um, probably longer. I just remember that was the first moment when I couldn’t deny the way I felt anymore. We were at your house. I said something funny and made you laugh. And I remember looking at your mouth and realizing I wanted to taste you, wanted my lips on yours.”

He sighs. “It scared the hell out of me, so I tried to dismiss it, bury it —you know. But it never went away.”

I frown as tendrils that feel uncomfortably like guilt wrap around my heart and lungs. “But it’s not like you’ve been, you know, pining for me since then or anything… right?”

Errol kind of shrugs. He stares out over the hood of the truck. “I mean, I had experiences. I had sex. That was easier than relationships. I wasn’t as good at those. But here’s the thing.”

He turns and locks his eyes onto mine. “If you’d have come back at any point and so much as snapped your fingers, I would’ve left everything behind for you.”

This doesn’t just sound like a crush. I try to push the next realization out of my brain before I can formulate the words for it, because doing so will manifest it and make it real. It slips through anyway. I think my best friend has secretly been in love with me since high school .

I don’t know what to say. As I stare out the windshield, I realize the rain has slaked off. I grab the door handle like it’s a lifeline and turn to Errol.

“Alright. Let’s move some boxes.”