Page 50 of The Frathole

I rest my hip against the doorframe, folding my arms. It’s like I’m posing in the mirror in the perfect frustrated stance. “I was being facetious because a reply would have been nice.”

He still won’t look at me. Maybe I was right about his visit with his parents.

“Sorry, man,” is all he says.

This is not the Ryan Lorde I’m used to. Where’s the sarcasm? Where’s the assholery? Where the hell is my frathole?

“I’m tired,” he adds, wiping his hands on his towel. “I don’t think I’m up for any dance lessons tonight. Probably just gonna pass out.”

He tosses the towel off, granting me a full view of the moon and his North Star before approaching me. I stay in his way, but when he still won’t look at me, I finally give him space, and he breezes into the room and rolls onto his air mattress.

Despite my annoyance with his behavior, I have to believe I was right. Maybe what we did has caught up with him, and he can’t play it cool while he’s struggling.

“Hey,” I say, forcing myself to say the word in as calm a manner as I can manage. “Will you talk to me?”

He closes his eyes as though he’s got a migraine. “Something on your mind?”

“Ryan, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” he asks, opening his eyes and wincing.

“Pretend nothing happened last night. Or be weird about this.”

“I’m not being weird about anything.”

I glare at him. “It’s pretty clear something’s happened between this morning and now. You didn’t reply to my text. And now you’re practically giving me the silent treatment.” I take a breath. “This is a lot. And you like to pretend nothing fazes you. Like you don’t give a shit about anything, but it’s okay to not be okay with everything you’re going through right now.”

He sits up, his eyebrow quirked. “And what, exactly, am I going through right now?”

I want to meet him at his level, so I get down on my knees. “Whatever we’re trying to figure out, we can help each other. Don’t shut me out. We don’t have to do anything else. That can be the end of it, and I’ll be fine…” Even as I say the words, they’re hollow because part of what’s bothering me so much is not having those lips again; life feels so much worse now that I know how good it can be with his face mashed up against mine. “…but I’m dealing with the same stuff, Ryan. You’re not alone.”

He huffs. “You know, you can be a lot less of a prick than you act like most of the time.”

“I wish I could say the same about you,” I tease.

His lips curl into his dimples, so at least that cheered him up.

“So let me get this straight,” he says. “You think I’m acting this way because I regret what we did last night and now I’m questioning my sexuality and wanting to pretend it never happened?”

“Oh, look. You’re also not as dumb as you act most of the time.”

Even though I’m joking, I’m tense too because that is my fear.

His gaze settles on my lips, and he comes at me quickly. It’s the sort of move that, had it happened before last night, I might’ve thought he was gonna punch me, but his lips crash against mine, and it’s like my whole body releases all the tension he created by avoiding me.

He hooks an arm around me and tugs me close to his body. I can feel the heat he’s still giving off from his shower, his oatmeal-scented soap tingling in my nose as his tongue sweeps across mine. He doesn’t hold back, he’s not hesitant, and that tongue sure as hell doesn’t seem confused about what it’s doing. Meanwhile, I’m back to being confused as fuck.

He guides me onto my back, our lips parting briefly as he positions his knees on either side of my waist. He rocks his hips, his crotch pushing against the fresh boner he’s got worked up. My breath hitches, and he finally pulls away, giving me a chance to collect my thoughts.

He’s wearing this cocky smile, the sort that would normally irritate the hell out of me. “You know,” he says, “now that I’ve had this mouth, you look a lot cuter when you’re annoyed with me.”

Heat flares in my chest, and my cock assures me I’m not bothered by what he said, but aroused as fuck. Hell, it’s hard to even remember why I was frustrated with him to begin with, but as it comes back to me, I have to say, “So you’re definitely not weird about what we did.”

“I’m weird all right.” He leans down and licks up my lips. It should seem strange, but it’s fire.

“You’re not acting like yourself, though.”

His playful expression softens, his gaze wandering. “Got some bad news today. News I can’t even process, it’s fucking with my head so much.”