Page 39 of The Idiot

He just stares at me though, like my forehead tit doubled in size. We clearly need to work on our ESP.

Glancing over at Philip, I’m relieved at least one of them seems to understand. I almost feel sorry for him, his jaw hanging open in horror. I might have to have a discussion with Murph about his small talk skills. I sure hope he didn’t accidentally lead the guy on.

Apparently, he’s still suffering from fear paralysis, gaping at me, so I give him another squeeze and slink my other arm across the front of his waist. “Hm? What do you say? You know I love snuggling with you. It’ll be just like at home.”

“At home?” Philip parrots, but it’s more like a demand for clarification.

“Y-yeah,” Murph finally speaks. “Um, Philip, this is… uh, this is my friend Jesse. We grew up together.”

“Sorry, we haven’t been introduced yet. Nice to meet you.” I extend my hand, but he just stares at it like I was scratching my ass with it. Rude!

And Murph sure isn’t very good at being rescued. I gave him an out, and he threw me in the friend zone. Sure, I want to be back in the friend zone, but I don’t know if that’s going to be enough repellent for Philip. His face is like a threat meter. All the tension there has settled again, like he thinks he still has a chance with Murph.

“Friend?” he parrots, sounding way too hopeful for my liking.

What is this? An interrogation? I need to up my rescue game.

Slipping my hand into Murph’s back pocket, I feel him tense under my touch as my fingers slide down the denim over the curve of his ass. Weird, but whatever. An ass is an ass, and we’ve both slapped each other’s several times over the years.

Man, he’s really warm. Dude throws off hella body heat.

Philip notices, just as I had intended, his eyes growing wide. I’m not sure why his jealousy makes me proud to claim Murph. Regardless, Philip’s threat meter is successfully rising again. I should do this shit for a living.

Trying to look bashful, I bat my lashes at Murph again, and shrug. “It’s all still new for us, but we’ve kind of danced around something for years, so in a way, it sort of just feels like… overdue, I guess?”

Man, I am good! That was Academy Award-winning stuff there.

A small gasp leaves Philip’s lips. There are, like, over a thousand guys on this cruise and it’s still the beginning of the trip. No need for dramatics, Philly. You’ll recover. Bottom line is Murph will be safe to enjoy himself.

“Um… y-yeah,” Murph rasps, reaching around and patting my side. “We’re still… figuring things out.”

Was the vein in Philip’s neck that big before?

Straightening his posture, he tugs the hem of his sheer tank down. “Well, maybe I’ll see you two lovebirds down there then.”

“For sure. Enjoy the show,” I enthuse, leaning my head on Murph’s shoulder.

I never realized what a squishy bear he is, solid in most places, but soft and inviting in others. He’s like a brick wall wrapped in a down comforter, firm, yet comfy where it counts. And has his beard always smelled this amazing?

Does he use beard oil or does his natural scent get trapped in all those man-fibers? He smells like home, making it suddenly not seem as far away.

That’s silly. Maybe it’s just because I feel important again. I don’t know why I never realized it before, but being Murph’s best friend makes me feel like…more.

I really like being more.

CHAPTER 10

Murphy

Aside from its low-lit bar in the far back corner, the emerald-green sectionals, couches, and easy chairs arranged around the Crosby Lounge give it an informal movie theater vibe under the backdrop of the massive big screen at the far end of the room. Or perhaps it’s all the guys cozied up throughout the darkened room as visions of Henry Cavill flash before our eyes. Whoever designed this cruise ship successfully captured both the feel of a cinema and a swank living room. I can easily see how a person could feel transported.

Anyotherperson.

With Jesse’s thighs sprawled out over my lap while one seasoned Gaytoberfest cruise patron with the buttons to prove it shoots death glares at me, the only place I have been transported to is a special kind of hell that conjures two different types of discomfort.

Jesse’s insistence that we attend this showing because,‘you can’t let some possessive button hoarder ruin your cruise,’ was difficult to argue against at the time. In hindsight, I think my brain hadn’t resumed functioning yet after he slipped his hand into my back pocket. I can still feel the tingle of that touch onmy ass. It was nothing like the polar opposite reaction I got when Philip did it yesterday.

I know I’ve thought about Jesse touching me, mostly in the hopes of proving myself wrong about wanting him, but actually being touched by him and thinking about being touched by him are two very different things. Now, he’s basically set up camp, using my lap as an ottoman. With one hand shoveling popcorn into his mouth while his other idly grazes the back of my neck, I envy his obliviousness. It’s taking everything in me to will my dick not to spring up and poke the back of his thighs. I’m almost grateful that Philip is shooting us daggers. The irony that one cockblocker is saving me from another is not lost on me.

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