Page 37 of Dare to be Different

“Oop! Drink!” I spin him around and pour whiskey into his cup. “You shook your head again.”

He gulps it in one go, the scowl still there. “More.”

I pour him more. “What’s the problem now?” I ask him. “You just got pissed all of a sudden.”

“I’m not pissed.”

“Because I brought up the blowjob again?” I have been a broken fucking record about it. “Sorry, Rem. I won’t ask again.”

“It’s not about the fucking blowjob!” he shouts at me. “Fuck!”

I back up to surrender, unsure where the road turned towards anger. “Shit. Sorry.”

He grabs the bottle from me and shakes his head yet again, but this one doesn’t feel aimed at me. “You won’t wanna know, so just fucking drop it.”

I scoff. “Why wouldn’t I want to know?” I get in his face. “Because of the thrill of the mystery thing?”

“Because you couldn’t handle the truth.”

“Because it was a guy?” I ask, thinking he might be trying to protect my new experiences and how I might feel about them. “Because it was Cody? I don’t care if it was a guy or a girl. Just tell me.”

“It wasn’t fucking Cody,” he snaps at me.

“Cara?” I gasp. “No. I swear it wasn’t her. I don’t feel that with her.”

“But you do with Cody?” he asks, looking at the wall.

“No. I… no.” Confusion sets in. He’s right. I don’t feel that with either of them. “So… was it Cody or Cara?”

Remy runs his fingers through his hair, fucking it up like I wanted to earlier. He’s pacing, looking at me every few steps, avoiding my eyes more. “You’re gonna be so fucking pissed.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Remy.” I grab his shoulder, but he shrugs me off and pushes me away. “Remy!”

He spins around, shoves my chest, and fucking screams at me. “It was me! I fucking did it!”

Fuck.

Chapter 16

My world erupts into shame and chaos, the two mixing together to fill me with so much doubt and fear that my throat locks up and my mind blanks and whirs at the same time.

I’ve held on to this secret since the night it happened, promising myself that he’d eventually let it go and be none the wiser. That Zahn would get over the allure of the blowjob and move on to the next best thing like he always does. Never, in my wildest fucking dreams, did I think he’d fixate on it like he has been.

And the whole time he’s been bringing it up at random, telling me about it like it was the best thing of his life, I haven’t been sure how to feel about it.

Guilty that I touched him against his will?

Ashamed that I sucked a dick for the first time while the recipient didn’t even know?

Disrespectful because I willingly crossed a boundary with my best friend that he hasn’t given me the green light to cross?

Even little parts of me want to be flattered and read into the reason why he liked it so much, but it’s hard to be happy about something when there’s so much shame and guilt associated with it.

But there I went, telling him my secret when I promised myself I wouldn’t. And now he’s staring at me with a blank but shocked look on his face, filling me with so much fear that I don’t know how to cope with it. Shock means nothing when I can’t tell if it’s a good shock or a bad shock. Is he overwhelmed? Is he pissed off? Is he relieved? Does he hate me?

The thought of him hating me for it crushes my fucking soul, and nothing would be worse than losing him over something like this. It changed my whole outlook on everything, and I’ve been bottling that feeling up since the weekend we were in Anchorage. But it will change my whole life if Zahn reacts poorly to this, and that, more than anything, is what is causing me to panic.

He’s my best friend; I’m not supposed to know what it feels like to have his cock hit the back of my throat, or be familiar with the way his cum tastes. I’m not supposed to like it so much that I came in my boxers without anyone or anything even touching me. I’m the guy who is supposed to hear about it, listen to him talk about all his experiences, and laugh along with them as he recaps. I’m supposed to shoot the shit over whiskey and beers with him while he explains all his new kinks and tells me about the times he tried them. I’m supposed to be the hookup buddy, the wingman, and the other body in the room—not the body that touches him.

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