Page 40 of Taste Test

The room felt like it was tilting.

“Someone who’s much kinder than he likes people to think.

The sort of guy who would miss three days of lectures just to take care of his sick flatmate when they’ve got the flu.

Who remembers things about people, or goes out of his way to learn about their interests.

Who gets this little crease between his eyebrows when he’s concentrating.

” His hand reached up like he was going to touch my face.

“Someone with really nice hands and perfect feet and eyes that see right through all my bullshit but somehow still puts up with me anyway.”

You’re describing me!

“Am I?” he said with a knowing smile.

Fuck. I hadn’t realised I’d said it out loud.

“Because if I am,” he continued, “then maybe you should know that I’ve been completely gone on my ideal type for years.

Like, embarrassingly gone. Like, jerking off thinking about him till my dick feels raw.

Maybe so gone I made up an elaborate story about needing his help for a sports science assignment just as an excuse to get him naked and put my hands all over him. ”

“You lied about the assignment so you could touch me?”

He let out a little nervous laugh. “I spent all week planning it. Borrowed the massage table from the sports lab, bought proper oils, even watched YouTube tutorials on Swedish massage techniques.”

“Because that isn’t creepy.”

“Says the guy who sniffs my undies and said he’d still blow my dad.”

I snorted. “Touché.”

“I think that’s why we get on so well. Underneath it all we’re a pair of weirdos.” His grin widened. “Although to be fair, my creepiness was at least innovative. Yours was just undie theft and daddy issues.”

“I still can’t believe you faked an entire assignment.”

“You’d be surprised what I’ll do to impress a guy I’ve been crushing on for years.”

“Years?” I balked. “You’ve liked me that long?”

“Duh. Whose idea do you think it was for us to flat together?”

“Your dad’s.”

“Nah. That’s what I told him to say. But it was mine.”

“What?”

“So about two years ago I saw you on campus one day near the library. You were wearing that grey hoodie you love and carrying about fifty books like you were gonna read them all in one sitting. You didn’t see me, but I just stopped dead in my tracks thinking, fuck, I’m still gone on this guy after all these years.

You were even sexier than I remembered. I was gonna go say hello but you looked like you were in a rush, so I just..

. watched you disappear into the library.

Couldn’t stop thinking about you after that.

I knew I’d be needing to find a new flat for the next semester anyway, so I spoke with Dad and floated the idea about him reaching out to your old man. ”

“You manipulated our dads into making us flatmates?”

“Manipulated is a strong word. I prefer ‘strategically influenced.’” His grin was sheepish.

“I told Dad I was worried about living with my rugby mates because I’d never get any study done.

Too much drinking, too many distractions.

Said maybe you’d be a good influence on me, help keep me focused.

And in return, I’d look out for you, make sure you socialised like a normal person instead of becoming a complete hermit.

I know your parents were worried about you turning into a Nigel no mates again. ”

“Again?”

“Dude, you spent every lunch hour in the library final year of high school. Always in those hideous cargo pants you used to wear.”

“They were comfortable.”

“They were hideous. Plus they hid your legs, which is practically a crime. You’ve got proper nice legs, lean but strong, and just the perfect amount of hair. I used to hope you’d wear shorts to assembly just so I could cop a look.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “You really are part mo.”

“Only in theory, not practice.” He winked.

He fell quiet, leaving me space to volley something flirty back. But my brain stalled, words failing me for once.

“Anyway,” Jared said at last, when it became obvious I wasn’t capable of witty repartee.

“The point is, I thought maybe if we lived together, I’d get a chance to tell you how I felt.

I knew you’d come out by then, so I figured maybe I could work up the courage to do the same.

Maybe we’d end up watching movies together, having those late-night conversations, and I’d finally get a chance to kiss you.

Why do you think I’ve been flirting my arse off with you since we moved in? ”

“You’ve been flirting with me?”

He raised his brows. “What the hell do you think that wink was just now?”

“Yeah, but… before now.”

“Mate, if I flirted any harder I’d be holding up a neon sign saying ‘fancy a shag?’” He threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Why do you think I keep walking around in just my underwear? Or making all those jokes about you perving on me? Or barging in when you’re in the shower?

I’ve been practically throwing myself at you for two years. ”

“That was... I thought that was just you being an obnoxious flatmate.”

“It was me being an obnoxious flatmate who fancies the pants off you.”

“Oh.”

“Not that my flirting did any good. You made it pretty clear I wasn’t your type.” His voice took on a slightly bitter edge. “Just some meathead rugby boy you had to tolerate for cheap rent.”

“I’m so sorry. I can be such an arsehole sometimes. I don’t think you’re a meathead. I was just scared of letting you know how I felt.”

“That’s okay. I get it.” His expression softened. “Truth is, the last time I made a proper move on a guy, it didn’t exactly go well either.”

“You’ve made a move before? On who?”

“You,” he said flatly.

“What? When?”

“When we were sixteen. On my bed. Those stupid rugby sheets. I kissed you, remember?”

“But I kissed you first,” I protested.

“We kissed each other,” he said. “And it was perfect. Best kiss I’ve ever had. And then you bolted like I’d set you on fire.”

“You made that crack about jerking off on the cartoon players and I thought—”

“I panicked. You looked terrified, so I turned it into a joke. Tried to make it stupid so maybe you’d believe it meant nothing. But it meant everything.”

“I stopped visiting because I thought you didn’t want—”

“I wanted ,” he cut in, reaching over to touch my face. “Christ, Casey, I wanted you so bad it scared me. I kept waiting for you to come back, hoping for another chance. But you never did.”

His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, gentle in a way that made my chest tight.

Before I could reply, he pushed back from his chair and moved around the table to my side.

Without hesitation, he leaned down and kissed me.

Not the barely-there brush of lips from when we were sixteen, but a proper kiss.

A kiss that set free years of pent-up need.

His hands framed my face like I was something precious.

When we finally broke apart, we were both gasping. His forehead rested against mine, his smile cocky and boyish.

“So,” he said, “about that whole fucking-me-until-I-can’t-sit-down thing... which room are you planning to wreck me in first? Because if I’m gonna be walking funny to rugby practice, I want to know where the magic’s happening.”

I laughed. “You’re such a goofball.”

“I’m being serious. You talked a big game and I’ve got a cherry that needs popping, and I think you’re just the man to do it.

” He kissed me again, then reached down to boldly grope my cock through my jeans.

His eyes went wide as his hand mapped the length of me.

“Bloody hell... I really am gonna be walking funny, aren’t I? ”

“Probably.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

His smile pulled up one corner of his mouth and he looked completely destructive. “Okay then. Your bedroom or mine?”