Page 68 of Devilry

“My dad pretty much disowned me,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “He did everything but say those exact words to my face.” Lowering my gaze, I start picking at the wet beer label, too raw to look at Cole. “I knew his stance on homosexuality when a family from his congregation had come seeking advice about their son, but I was too young to put all the pieces together.

“It wasn’t until my friends started talking to me about girls they liked that I started acknowledging the difference. It was a constant stream of boob talk. Who got them over the summer, whose were bigger. And I would sit there wondering how the fuck did I not notice?

“It was then I let myself really focus on what it was I was actually paying attention to.” I look up at Cole, who’s watching me intently. I feel my cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that I’m telling the man I’m ridiculously attracted to about how I fumbled through high school. “That’s when I realized I wasn’t noticing Jackie’s tits, because I was too busy drooling over Peter’s arms.”

A smug smile tugs at his lips. “And, how were they?”

Grabbing the cushion between us, I playfully throw it at him. “Shut up, smart ass.”

“You know I’m joking.” He clutches the pillow to his chest. “Keep talking about Peter’s arms.”

I give a long, loud, teasing sigh, feeling a little more comfortable with every detail that slips past my lips. “They were the best thing this fourteen-year-old had ever seen. I would think of him at night and my dick would get hard at the thought. My brain hadn’t even caught up to my body back then, just the sight of him was enough. I didn’t even need to imagine us doing anything together for me to blow my load.”

“I remember those days.” He chuckles. “And the guy you got caught with?”

“Alex. His name was Alex,” I say wistfully. “He was new to church. His family moved from Oregon, and I remember watching them walk into the sermon late, nervous but still determined to attend.” I rub a hand over my chest, the hurt and loss of Alex as strong as ever. “His mom looked like a Stepford wife and his father was a dead ringer for the dad in theBrady Bunch.”

“That show is almost a little too old for me,” he interrupts. “How do you know about theBrady Bunch?”

“Really, Cole? My knowledge of TV shows isn’t what’s important here.”

“Of course,” he says sarcastically. “Please, let’s get back to reminiscing about your first love, Alex.”

I throw a hand over my mouth to stifle the laugh threatening to come out. “Are you really jealous of a seventeen-year-old boy?”

“This is your storytime,” he says gruffly. “We can talk about all the weird shit I feel around you another time.” He raises the beer to his lips, his eyes boring into mine as he takes a long pull of his drink. I watch the way his mouth purses around the bottle, the way the cords in his neck tense while he swallows, and imagine him on his knees ready for me. Every part of me is enamoured with every little move he makes, turning it all into my own secret fantasies. “Are you going to stop staring at me?”

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of my stupor.

“Come on,” he cajoles. “I really do want to know the rest of this story.”

“Okay,” I huff. “But I’m going to turn around and close my eyes.”

“So you can think of Alex?” he teases.

I look down at my now visible erection and back up at Cole. “This isn’t for Alex.”

Licking his lips, he gives me the sexiest wink. “You do you, baby.”

I flip him off and angle my body away from his. Sitting upright, I rest both feet on the ground, let my head fall to the back of the couch, and close my eyes.

After a few calculated breaths, I feel myself relax and dive right back into the retelling of the first time I saw Alex.

“His parents were proper in every sense of the word,” I continue from where I left off. “But not him. He was dressed from head to toe in black. It was a cross between emo and grunge, but all the church goers insisted he worshipped Satan.” I chuckle at the memory. “He loved that. He didn’t care what anyone thought, and that’s what made him irresistible. His confidence was what lured me in. I wanted to beexactlylike him.

“We started hanging and it was no longer Peter I was imagining at night anymore. Everything changed and I felt my admiration turn into adoration.” Opening my eyes, I turn to look at Cole, who’s sitting still, hanging on my every word. “I was never going to make a move. Instead I lied my way through conversations about girls, thinking it’s what I was supposed to say. It wasn’t until I went to a winter dance with this girl named Jasmine, that I realized pretending was no longer an option. She kissed me, and it was horrible. It felt wrong on every level. I wasn’t comfortable lying to anyone, but I was even more uncomfortable at the thought of using people to cover up my secret.”

Cole’s teeth rake over his bottom lip in thought. “And Alex, he just hung around, waiting for you to come out?”

“Well, we were friends first,” I explain. “That part always felt natural, but I think he was more perceptive than I realized. Patient too. Maybe because he was a year older than me, or because he knew what it was like.

“Or maybe, just like with you, even when I thought I was doing a great job hiding my feelings, I really was wearing them on my face for all to see.”

Cole’s face lights up, interest and desire swimming in his gray eyes. He reaches for my hand and I let him take it. The small squeeze is intimate. Comforting and somewhat encouraging, so that I can let all the ugly out, and still sit here, at ease, with him.

“So after the blunder of the dance, he started brushing up against me more, pushing the boundaries of my personal space, until I knew for sure I wasn’t imagining it. Whatever it was between us became unavoidable.”

I link my fingers with Cole’s and tug him closer. He places the beer he’s been gripping tightly onto a nearby table and shifts right beside me.

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