Page 35 of Dean

Someone I can’t ever have.

I fall asleep horny as ever and pray that in my dreams, Dean makes an appearance.

CHAPTER SIX

DEAN

I probably shouldn’t have touched Avery’s legs like that. That was worse than just looking at him all damn day.

I know he’s gay, know that sometimes he stares at me a little too long, and yet I did it anyway. But he has nice legs and he looked good sprawled out on the couch.

And I did feel bad that the ride was so long, but it felt nice having him sitting behind me, his hands on my stomach, his face pressed against my shoulder.

It felt…real good. I didn’t want it to end.

I may have dreamed of him last night too.

Nothing sexual. Just…he was there. Looking at me with those pretty eyes, all that hair falling around his shoulders. He seems to be infiltrating my brain even when I’m not awake.

Fuck, it’s weird. But then again, Avery is not what I expected. He hasn’t been since I first met him. That fire, that sass.

He’s addicting in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

But all those feelings don’t mean I’m interested in him, not like that. I’m just intrigued by his charisma.

I need to be careful not to lead him on. He’s young and impressionable. And I’m much older and jaded.

Right. Our age gap is too much…it’s not a good thing.

Something like that would never last.

As I walk out to the kitchen to grab some coffee, I see Avery there, his hair a mess, some falling from his braid, and his legs on display.

He’s wearing my jersey.

Fuck a duck.

“Oh god,” he murmurs, his hand to his chest. “You scared me.”

I arch an eyebrow and he blushes, obviously coming to the realization of what he’s wearing.

“Oh fuck. I’m so sorry, Dean. I just really like…jerseys.” His cheeks are flushed and he looks ashamed. I don’t like that look on him. Not at all. I never want him to feel ashamed of himself, of what he likes and doesn’t like.

I want him to be comfortable just being himself.

Even if seeing him in my jersey sets me aflame.

“It’s fine. I haven’t worn that in ages. You’re welcome to it.”

He nods and glances away. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome to my clothes. Anytime.” And I mean it. I wouldn’t mind him wearing my shit. Bet it would look good on him.

“Oh god, don’t say that,” he murmurs and then clears his throat. “I made oatmeal. It’s good for your cholesterol.”

I huff. Damn Ben putting that shit into Avery’s head and making me feel older than I am. “My cholesterol’s just fine.”

He shrugs and hands me a bowl. “It has blueberries too. You’ll love it.”

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