Page 51 of Protecting the Nerd

“N-no?”

I’d never seen York this flustered. What the hell was going on? “In that case, now would be a good time to leave.”

He swallowed again as his eyes roamed south. “You’re still hard.”

So he had noticed. “Yeah.”

I wasn’t even embarrassed anymore. Somehow, my jerk-off session had evolved into something else, though what, I wasn’t sure. Any straight man would’ve walked out, but York hadn’t. He was fascinated. Was that the right word? Mesmerized? Captivated? He certainly seemed focused on my cock. Was that normal, or did it mean something else? I was flying blind here.

“Are you gonna…?” He made a suggestive gesture with his right hand.

I quirked an eyebrow. “Why? You wanna watch?”

“N-no?”

I crossed my arms, not caring that I stood exposed. This exchange was by far the most surreal experience of my life. “So you’re not gonna wait for me to get dressed, but if I go for round two, you’re also not gonna watch that? Then what do you want, York?”

He lifted his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.”

“No. I’m…shocked? My brain isn’t functioning properly for some reason. You’re too…” Another gesture. “Distracting.”

“You know the remedy, right?”

He shook his head.

“Walk out. That’s it. That’s all you have to do to stop me from distracting you.”

“Or you could walk out.”

I snorted. “You do realize I’m standing here dripping wet, right?”

“Right. I’d forgotten… You’re right.” He turned, stopped, and looked over his shoulder. “Do you want me to go?”

He. Was. Killing. Me.

What was going on with him? Whatever it was, we seemed to be at an impasse. I stepped out of the stall and grabbed a towel. “I’m gonna dry off. You can do whatever you want.”

I turned my back toward him, fighting to focus on what I was doing rather than checking in on York. After what felt like minutes, a faint sigh reached me, followed by soft footsteps. I dried myself off and only then turned around again. He was gone. I released a deep breath.

What the hell had that been about? Why had he stayed? It made no sense at all. Had he been curious, watching another man pleasure himself? But that didn’t account for him staying that long, for him not realizing he’d far exceeded the boundaries of what was normal and appropriate. York could be oblivious, but even he would’ve known he was crossing a line there. So why hadn’t he left?

As I put on my clothes, I kept pondering it, but by the time I walked down the stairs, I wasn’t any closer to a satisfactory answer. One more aspect of the mystery that was York Coombe.

In the kitchen, York put a plate into the microwave. “Hold on.” I grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”

“Making dinner.”

“Since when do you make your own dinner?”

He didn’t meet my eyes. “I figured you’d be…busy.”

“York…” When he didn’t respond, I gently put my finger under his chin and lifted it so he would have to look at me. “The truth, please. We’ve always been honest with each other. Let’s not ruin that now.”

Oh, he was…scared. Not angry, not embarrassed, but afraid. But of what? “What’s going on? I know we had a situation just now, but…”

I wasn’t sure what to tell him because I had no idea what was going through his mind.

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