Page 77 of Finance Bros

Half the time I was in his bed, my brain was too busy rewiring itself to take in what was happening—how long have we been kissing? Was that his noise or mine? I halfway convinced myself that mine wasn’t the first cock he’s ever sucked—he was so fucking good at it. Meanwhile, I’m over here gobbling him up like I’m a pig in a trough, not even thinking about what might actually feel good tohim.

Thank fuckI was able to rein it in. If I freaked him out after last night, I’d have had him in an institution if I kept up like that.

The more distance I get from his apartment, from his bed, the more I think about what he told me tonight balanced against what he used to be like before my horrible confession lost me everything I cared about.

For example, I remember very distinctly the first time he ever rolled over and put his arms around me while we were watching TV. The Simpsons were on. We were ten, I think. I thought he was saying good night because we’d hugged before. Not all the time, not every night, but when it was convenient and made sense, we’d give each other a hug before going off to our separate rooms for bed.

But that night wasn’t a hug. It was the first time he snuggled up to me, put his leg between mine and sighed like he’d finally gotten comfortable for the first time in years.

It surprised me, but I’d liked it. He was warm and managed to fit himself perfectly into all my hollow spaces. It was before bed, so we were both clean and showered, and it was just so…cozy.

“You’re comfy,”he’d said.

I think I said something likethanks.

So, after that night, he’d say things like “let’s watch a show and get comfy.” And I knew what he meant.

Sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night, usually close to daybreak, and he’d be snuggling up to me again. I’d pretend to be asleep, and he’d usually get up before I did and slip out of the room, but sometimes I’d let him know I was awake and make room for him. Sometimes we’d wake up together and laugh about it.

Why the hell was that inappropriate? I didn’t start crushing on him for years after that. So what was he talking about? I’m gonna get obsessed with having more answers. It’s only a matter of time before I won’t be able to go on with my life before Ineedto know what the hell goes on in his confusing head. I respect that he doesn’t want to talk about it, but what a weird thing to say. Especially when it preceded him all but throwing his naked body at me and speaking the words aloud:I’m not straight.

His timeline was confusing as fuck for that, too, but I can’t deny he was acting exactly like someone who was way more confident about being with a man than I am.

Did he mess around with guys at Stanford?

If he did, I’ll be pissed. He was at his homophobic worst when we saw each other for holidays in college. I didn’t even spend the summers at home because I knew he’d be there. I stayed in Portland and worked, only venturing to the Bay Area for Thanksgiving and Christmas—the occasional birthday. I’d stay two days max because watching him feel up or fuck Kaylin in every room on every conceivable surface was crippling.

I was physically ill after the first time I caught him having sex with her. We were sixteen, and they were in the laundry room. He had her on top of the washer—during the spin cycle obviously—and she was coming unglued as he was thrusting steadily into her. I’d literally thrown up in my bathroom afterward. But after that time, I guess I got used to it.

To hear him say tonight that their sex life is “okay” is in direct contradiction to the way it looked to me on that and several other occasions following that. He’d seen me, too—that day in the laundry room. He winked at me with a shit-eating grin on his face. He wanted to get caught. I knew that. He was showing me who he was. Proving it. Over and over and over again. He liked pussy.Lovedit. And he wanted to make damn sure I knew it.

I perfected the art of giving him no reaction. I’d watch a few seconds, make sure he knew I knew what I was seeing, take his stupid fucking wink and walk away with fury burning my insides and hurt devastating the landscape of my feelings for him.

I hated Kaylin, too. Not that she ever noticed me walking in on him banging her brains out, but I hated her for being the object of his desire.

She’d let him do her in just about any position, in any room, no matter how likely they were to get caught. Bathroom with the door half open? No problem. Kitchen—sure, why not, mom’s out for a walk and dad’s out back mowing the lawn. Should be fine. Bent over the living room sofa when mom and dad were upstairs wrapping presents? A perfect time to fit in a quick, indiscreet fuck.

So sue me for not trusting his reckless ass.

His plump, round,perfectass that turns hard as a rock when it clenches during one of those infamous thrusts.

While I’m showering, I remember what he said about getting pounded into a mattress.

Another mind fuck.

I’m a few months older, but he’s a few inches taller than I am. He’s slimmer, too. Lean but not lanky. Still, he’s got a different build than me. I’m not huge, but I’m dense, packed with muscle. I’d guess we weigh about the same, it’s just distributed differently. He’s height and ass. I’m shoulders, chest and thighs. Mostly thighs. It’s impossible to find jeans, which is why I didn’t want to come in them—I only have two pairs that fit right.

So, can I picture it? Pounding him into a mattress? Fuck yeah, I can, especially after tonight with him pouring himself all over me the way he did. But the mind fuck is that those are moves of his I’ve never seen—never could have imagined hisbody doing. The casual drape—the loaded upward glances—the slow seductive body roll. He was hot before, but he’ssexynow.

I text him when I get out of the shower, unable to stop worrying about what tomorrow’s gonna be like. I’m not sure if I can handle him flipping out on me again. I’m messed up enough already. “Once Bitten, Twice Shy” by Great White is stuck in my head. Only the chorus, of course. No mystery how that one got in there.

Me

You still up?

Mal

Barely. My mattress wants to swallow me.

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