Page 16 of Puck My Stepbrother
“Share away.”
“Well, I haven’t been getting laid. Jeff and I mostly get together for coffee or lunch. Of course I want it to become something more. It’s just that I…wait, what am I even telling you this stuff for?”
“I told you, we’re brothers. We should share stuff.”
“Maybe you want to, Levi, but I don’t tell just anybody about stuff like that.”
He stood up from the table, collected his notebook, and tucked it under his arm. I raised a hand to stop him.
“Come on, Quim, chill out. I just wanted to?—”
“Quinn, Levi. My name isQuinn. If we’re going to be brothers, the least you can do is call me by my proper name and give the high school bullshit a rest.”
Holy shit. I’d never seen that side of Quim—sorry, Quinn—before. If he’d tried to stand up to me in school, I wouldn’t have taken him seriously. Now I did. This would’ve been a really good time to say I was sorry. Those wordswerein my vocabulary, but I almost never used them. I rarely had a good reason to.
“You’re not going anywhere, are you?” I asked.
“I’ve got somewhere to be.”
“Right now? It’s ten o’clock at night.”
“Maybe it’s time for me to turn in. Got an early morning tomorrow.”
And he marched out of the room.
His answers had “excuse” written all over them. Something was going on. Yeah, it was cool to know he was gay, but hearing that he was seeing someone put a damper on things. His not getting laid wasn’t cool, though. Someone like Quinn shouldn’t be left untouched. If this Jeff hadn’t put out for Quinn, he didn’t know what he was missing.
Though I’d never been with Quinn, I knew I’d been missing a whole lot all this time. And I planned to get everything I’d missed out on very, very soon.
7
QUINN
Icouldn’t believe I’d let Levi get away with it. Derailing the entire conversation, I mean. Think about it: I’d gone to him, all gung-ho, ready to say all the things I’d rehearsed beforehand, and really put him in his place. In the end, I’d only saidsomeof what I wanted to, but he’d knocked me back down to size before I could cook up a decent comeback.
And why shouldn’t he have done that? He was Levi Dunn, asshole extraordinaire. Being a jerk was in his DNA.
But I felt helpless, like a swimmer fighting a rising tide. I’d tried going to my dad about the bedroom issue, but let’s face facts—he didn’t give a shit. And my attempt to confront Levi directly couldn’t have fallen flatter. Worse, I couldn’t even see the light at the end of the tunnel. I felt weak and listless, and that weakness would only worsen until I completely lost my mind.
A text from Levi arrived a day after our talk in the kitchen, telling me he wanted to talk wedding tasks. Surprising he’d texted me first instead of approaching me on the fly and expecting me to drop whatever I was doing. We met in the kitchen, which might as well have been our spot and, you guessed it, he sat right beside me, personal space be damned.
“I’ve found the venue,” he said. “There’s this place on Delaware Avenue I think would be perfect.”
“That was fast. Have you looked at any others?”
“I did, yeah. The place on Pearl Street was too expensive and, if I’m being totally honest, nowhere near as good as the Delaware Avenue venue.”
“Is this all set then? Have you made a deposit with the Delaware Avenue people?”
“Not yet. I still want to look at this place on Franklin. Has more space than we actually need, but I think our parents would be willing to switch gears if the price is right.”
I couldn’t help peering down at his hands as he scribbled notes onto a pad. Okay, fine, I didn’t normally examine other people’s hands, but I couldn’t help myself. His hands were enormous, for starters. They looked so powerful, like he could twist steel with them. As I studied his hands, I noticed the squiggly veins and thatch of hair that continued onto his arms. But those were just details. I considered the possibilities, too.
I lost myself dreaming of those hands settling over my shoulders, just like when he’d left my room the last time. Only in my imagination, he caressed me, his fingers sinking into my skin.
When he’d touched me in my room, I’d honestly expected my knees to buckle, causing me to wind up on the floor in a heap. I wanted him to touch me again, no matter what my rational mind said. I wished he’d lean in and plant kisses along my neck and shoulders, allowing me to feel his warm breath on my skin again. And then I wanted those hands to travel up and down my body, discovering every secret place. When I fell deep enough into the fantasy, one of his powerful hands closed over my cock, moving slowly up and down, then hard and fast.
But he’d done none of those things in my room. He’d just won an argument he should by all rights have lost, and then left.
