Page 13 of Beautifully Devoted

“I thought you said me liking dicks doesn’t change things between us. I would never ogle your junk without you knowing like some perv.”

The moonlight is just bright enough through the gap in the blinds to make out the whites of his eyes as he rolls them dramatically. “I don’t care if you see my junk. I meant I wouldn’t have put you in a position where you might’ve got turned on.”

“I didn’t.”

“Hold up? You like gay porn but a guy jerking off next to you does nothing?” I can’t see Jagger well enough to verify his expression, but it almost sounds like he’s offended by that. Where did his mind go while he was by himself?

“I told you, I wasn’t paying attention to you.” If I had been this might be a very different conversation since Jagger’s sexy as hell when he fucks, so I wasn’t about to indulge in his solo sessions and risk giving myself crazy ideas. Watching him with a woman is as far as I’ll let that shit go.

“You like dicks, but didn’t want to check out mine?” Again, with that offended tone.

“You’re straight, Jagger. Or at least you thought you were.” My brow furrows before I can stop it. “I wasn’t gonna screw up our friendship by blurring the lines. Besides, you kinda hate how everyone looks at you like you’re a piece of meat.”

“I do not. It’s how I get laid.”

“You like that your looks make the pursuit easy, but you hate when people try to bribe you into a good time. It reminds you of your dad, and you don’t want to be him, so you don’t look twice at anyone who tries to buy a turn on your dick with special favors. You know that with great sex appeal comes great responsibility.”

I see a hint of white teeth as Jagger’s jaw falls open. “Did you just quote spiderman logic at me but for sex?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay that was pretty impressive, but am I responsible though? I fuck around just as much as my dad. Meaningless hookups with women who are probably pretty cool, but I never bother to find out.”

“Kitcat.” I tug his arm so he takes his weight off it and puts his head back next to my chest. “We were ten when your dad left, so we don’t really know how much he fucked around. What we know is all based on rumors and speculation. The issue with your dad was that he was married and blatantly hooking up with people to get what he wanted from them. He used them to further his own interests. You’re using women for a good time, same as they’re doing to you. Have you ever once promised more than a night, or asked for anything in return?”

“What about that girl who had concert tickets to Coachella?”

“She offered those after you fucked her, and you turned her down.”

“I went to a football game with that other girl, what’s her name…”

“You already had a ticket for that game, you just took hers and gave your original away. You didn’t use her to gain anything.”

“Maybe not.” I feel his jaw shift slightly as he swallows. “Still, I probably screw around too much.”

Now we’re back on familiar territory. He goes down this path every year.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking sex.” I squeeze him to me with the arm he’s lying on.

“Except that’s all people want from me. Maybe that’s all I’m good for.”

That’s a new angle. Every other year he’s gone on a tangent about feeling guilty. The offended tone makes sense now. He thinks sex is all he’s good for and I told him he didn’t turn me on.

It’s times like these when I hate Jagger’s dad the most. My best friend shouldn’t be defined by what’s on the outside. Sure, he’s a beautiful man, but that’s not even close to all he is. Loyal, hardworking, considerate—those are just a few of his admirable traits, but he’s also smart, athletically gifted, and goofy.

If he wasn’t plagued by the constant fear of repeating his dad’s mistakes, he probably wouldn’t be so dependent on me, and while part of me likes taking care of him, I’d give that up to see him be as fearless as he was when we were little kids.

“Bullshit,” I tell him. “You’re also good for catching passes, telling people how to take care of their bodies, supporting your teammates, making me laugh, and being the best damn friend on the planet.”

“You have to say those things,” he mumbles softly, pouting, though I can feel his mouth trying to smile anyway. “It’s best friend code.”

“It’s the truth, Kitcat. You’re nothing like your dad, and you shouldn’t feel guilty about doing something pretty much every college student is doing anyway.”

He sighs and snuggles closer, giving the impression this episode of ‘am I like my father’ is over. But he’s not done talking.

“Have you really liked girls all this time?”

“Of course.” My fingers find his hair, and I play with the silky strands to get him to relax enough to sleep. “Tits are sexy as fuck. But a hard dick gets me going just as much. Maybe even a little more if I need inspiration when I’m by myself.”

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