Page 10 of Angel

I’ve never thought about other guys, never looked at other guys. I had tons of opportunities to stare when I was on the football team, but I never did. Not once. Not even a little tempted. So, no, I’m not gay and I’m not doing gay porn.

No, wait, I’m not doing any porn, dang it.

So where the heck did that question come from?

Ricky snaps his mouth shut, but his eyes are still impossibly wide. “I, uh, um, do you have to be gay to do gay porn?” His mouth opens and closes a few times before he manages to answer. “I guess not?”

“A hole’s a hole, right?” A slightly hysterical laugh escapes me before I clap my hand over my mouth. Oh good lord, what is happening to me? “Sorry! I’m so sorry. Don’t answer that. You probably think I’m a perv.”

First, I follow the guy upstairs and corner him in his childhood bedroom. Then I’m ogling a video of him dancing practically naked around a pole. Then that other video. Now I’m asking him inappropriate questions about gay porn. Something is seriously wrong with me.

I drag my hand over my face and start to stand. I need to leave. I shouldn’t have come up here in the first place.

But he stops me with a hand on my arm. It’s so small, but not dainty. There’s real strength in those fingers and calluses on his palms. It has to be from the pole dancing, from holding himself up in midair. Ricky might be petite, but definitely not weak.

“I don’t think you’re a perv.”

There’s a gentleness in his voice that makes me brave enough to glance at him again. He’s smiling, warm and kind, and there’s that fluttering feeling in my stomach again.

“And actually,” he continues with a hint of laughter. “There’s a whole subset of gay porn called gay for pay.”

“Gay for pay?” The words feel weird on my tongue. Like they’re not even English.

“Yeah, you know, straight guys doing gay porn to make money.”

Straight guys. Doing gay porn.

My heart thuds heavily against my ribs. Straight guys doing gay porn.

Straight guys—like me. Doing gay porn like what I saw in the video. The curve of Ricky’s bent leg, the roundness of his bum. His skin shimmering and shining. I gulp.

And his face. He looked so… blissed-out, like he was high from the sex. His fingers were intertwined with the other guy’s, like they were in it together, like they were connected more than just physically.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?” Ricky asks. His expression is carefully schooled. It’s a perfect balance between sensitive and curious, encouraging but not overly aggressive. There’s no hint at which answer he wants me to give.

I can’t answer. I mean, I know how I should answer. I should say no. No chance. No way. Absolutely not. I have no reason to want to, no reason why I would need to. Not straight porn, and certainly not gay porn.

But my jaw won’t move, my tongue won’t make the right shapes. My heart beats harder, faster. Why can’t I just say no?

Ricky’s lips quirk and his eyes fill with compassion and understanding. “If you are, I might know someone you can talk to. If you are. No pressure or anything. Just putting it out there.”

Is he serious? He can’t be serious. I would never consider doing anything like that.

My heartbeat roars in my ears. My throat feels tight and my stomach churns dangerously. I grip my knees so tightly, I might give myself bruises.

Ricky holds out his hand, palm up. “Give me your phone?”

I stare at his hand, not fully grasping what he’s asking me for. He wants my phone? Why does he want my phone?

Then suddenly my phone is out of my pocket and in his palm, and I have no idea how it got there.

Ricky’s thumbs fly across the screen, and a second later, his bag buzzes. “There. Now you have my number. If you ever want to…” He seems to lose his train of thought. Then he smiles, almost sheepishly. “You know, whatever, you know how to reach me.”

He holds out my phone, and when I take it I accidentally close my whole hand around his. He doesn’t pull away and neither do I. We sit there, sort of holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes.

The world spins like I’m standing at the top of a skyscraper, staring down at the street below. The wind blows through the steel frame of the building, cold and biting. The soles of my feet tingle. If I step off the edge, I could fly.

I’m snapped back to reality when Ricky slides his hand out from under mine. Then quickly, faster than I can react, he darts in and plants a kiss on my cheek. Then he’s on his feet, saying goodbye, and disappearing down the stairs.

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