Page 9 of Angel

Angel blinks, his gaze drifting off into space. He looks dazed. Like I just told him that the world is going to end in forty-eight hours. I let him sit and absorb the news. Not only am I a pole dancer, I’m also a camboy. Yes, I have gay sex on camera and other people pay to watch.

“Does it… pay well?”

My eyebrows shoot up. Shit. That’s the last thing I expected him to say. “Why do you ask? You thinking about starting your own page?” I’m teasing, obviously. Though I probably shouldn’t, considering. I’ve put Angel through a lot already in the short time we’ve been chatting.

But then his ears flush red again and he fidgets while rubbing his palms over the tops of his thighs. He’s not saying no. Most people would immediately—and loudly—say no.

“Angel?”

“No! I mean…” He shifts around, making the bed dip, and I slide a little toward him. “No.”

The second “no” sounded a whole hell of a lot less certain than the first. It sounded almost… reluctant? Holy fucking shit. It’s my turn to blink in astonished silence. Maybe sweet, wholesome Angel isn’t quite as sweet and wholesome as I thought.

“It’s just… interesting,” he says, as he scratches his jaw.

Interesting is definitely one way to describe it.

“But I’m not—I’m not gay.” He shakes his head with a furrow in his brow, then his head snaps up like he only just remembered he isn’t alone. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay. I don’t have anything against gay people. It’s just, I’m not.”

Oookay. I feel like I’ve missed about three-quarters of the conversation he’s having with himself. This whole situation has gone totally off the rails, and I don’t even know how it happened.

“I don’t think you’re gay,” I say gently, as much as it pains me.

“I’m not. I’ve had girlfriends.”

“That’s…” Great? Wonderful? Congratulations?

“I…”

Oh god. Is he about to stroke out? Have an episode of some kind? Do I need to run down and call for help?

“Angel?”

He blinks, staring into space. “You don’t… do you… do you have to be gay to, you know, do gay porn?”

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

CHAPTER

FOUR

ANGEL

Wait. What just came out of my mouth? It wasn’t what I think it was, was it?

I sneak a sideways glance at Ricky, whose jaw is on the floor.

Shoot. I did ask him about gay porn. Why did I ask him about doing gay porn?

My brain kind of short-circuited when that video popped up on his phone.

I mean, I’ve watched porn before. Pshh, who hasn’t? But it’s always been straight porn. Girls with big boobs that bounce up and down while the guy does his thing. It’s nothing mind-blowing, but it does the job.

This video though. The sounds. All that skin. The close-up shot of the guy’s thing going into Ricky’s thing. Oh god.

I keep seeing it like the image has been burned into the backs of my eyelids.

But I’m not gay. I’m not. I’ve had girlfriends before. I was attracted to them. I’ve never, you know, gone all the way, but only because I didn’t want to force myself on them. I’m a respectful guy.

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