Page 10 of Collisions and Decisions

Yay.

Once I’m half-dressed, I take Xander’s hand, and realize he’s spaced out again. Probably went back to his conversation with himself. That’s fine. I talk to myself all the time too.

I pull him with me and walk him over to the kitchen counter, sit him on a stool, and get to work in the kitchen.

I’m not some master chef or anything, but I see bacon and bread, and decide to make some BLTs. They’re always the answer to whatever ails us. I also pour him and myself a glass of water. Hydration is important after rigorous physical activity.

I snicker to myself, and it gets Xander’s attention.

“What are you doing?” The question sounds like an accusation, but I let it pass.

“I’m making us BLTs, so you can eat, relax a little, and then we can talk about whatever has you so worried.”

“I don’t—this isn’t?—”

“It is.” I cut him off mercilessly. “I bet you’re making a lot of assumptions about me, so when you’re ready to listen, I’ll clarify them.”

That shuts him up. I get back to work, and after a few minutes of silence I hear him get up and start to mutter to himself again.

I can make out a couple of things. “Too young and inexperienced, doesn’t know what he wants. I don’t know what I want, so what do I know? Probably doesn’t even want more, so why does any of it matter anyway?”

I think I have a pretty good idea what he’s freaking out about, but I just let him rant to himself for now.

When our food is done and ready, I plate it and shove one at him on the other side of the counter. He sees it, sits back down, and starts to eat without even looking at me. That’s okay, it’s not like either one of us can run from this.

I mean, he could kick me out of his apartment, and I’d leave if he did. I’d tell him what I need to say while I do, and I’d hope hearing what I have to say would change his mind, but things don’t always work out the way you want them to.

“Probably only wants this professional ass,” Xander mutters between bites, and that’s just too much for me to ignore. I dump the little bite I still have left onto the plate, and round the counter to get him out of his chair, and over my shoulder.

“What?” he demands—more like squawks—but I just keep walking to the couch and sit down, maneuvering him so he’s in my lap. I link my hands behind his back so he can’t run away no matter how much he keeps wiggling.

“Xander, listen to me.” He finally stops moving and looks me in the eye.

“It’s true that I’d never had anal sex before today, but that doesn’t mean anything, because it’s still the best sex I’ve ever had. It’s not because you’re a professional, or whatever other insulting bullshit you’re thinking, it’s because I could feel how we were in sync, how much we were bothfeeling.” I have to stop talking, to take a breath, and that’s when Xander strikes.

“How can you know that’s what it was when I’m the only person you’ve had anal sex with?”

“Because I’ve been with a lot of women before, baby. I know it’s not physically the same, but mentally it is.”

“You’re only twenty,” he retorts like a winning argument.

“So? I haven’t had a sheltered life, I know what I like and what I don’t like. I’m a responsible adult who pays his taxes. I have a job, and I have lots of money that I don’t know what todo with half the time. Does all that mean I don’t get to want someone special next to me?”

He starts to wiggle on me again, and after a long sigh, I let my arms fall to our sides. He can leave if he wants to... but he doesn’t move away.

“I’m a whore, Wyatt.”

“Okay...” I don’t understand what that has to do with anything. “I’m a hockey player.”

“Ugh!” He slaps two hands against my chest. “What am I going to do?”

“Whatever you want,” I say like it’s obvious, because for me it is. But he looks at me with so much fear and confusion in his eyes it scratches at something inside me. I want to make him feel better, but I don’t know what to do or say to make it happen. “Baby, I want to date you. I don’t want to chain you to me. If you wanna keep working. As far as I’m concerned, that has nothing to do with us. Now, outside of work. There, I’d really like for us to be exclusive, but I understand if you’re not ready for that?—”

“I can’t keep working!” he snaps at me.

“Why not?” I ask as gently as I can, and cup his cheeks.

He leans forward until our foreheads are touching and closes his eyes. I close mine too and bring my hands around him again, but this time to his perfect ass. I really like fondling his ass.

---