Page 22 of A Man To Remember
"Austin." His name feels strange on my tongue, weighted with things I don't have words for. "I need to tell you something, and I don't really know how to say it."
He closes the laptop, giving me his full attention. "Okay."
I swallow, the action strangely painful. Am I really about to do this? Am I about to speak thoughts that have never even truly formed in my own brain?
We're about to find out together.
Fuck. Here goes nothing.
"I think I'm attracted to you." The words tumble out like dice I can't call back. "Which is... Fuck. I don't know what that means. I've never been attracted to a guy before. Ever. And I keep thinking maybe I'm just confused, or maybe it's just because of where we are, all the shit going on at the club, but..."
"But?"
"But I can't stop thinking about yesterday. About how it felt when you touched me. How it felt to touch you back."
Austin's expression doesn't change, which could mean anything or nothing. I barrel forward before I lose my nerve completely.
"I've never questioned my sexuality before. Not once. I've always just... known I liked women, you know? It was simple. Straightforward. And now I'm sitting here telling a man I'm attracted to him, and I don't know if that makes me gay or bi or just completely fucked in the head."
The words hang between, a confession I wasn't planning to make. Austin watches my face like he's reading a map, following the path of my thoughts to see where they lead.
"You don't have to figure it all out right now," he says finally.
"But what if I'm just... what if this is just some midlife crisis bullshit? What if I'm wasting your time?"
"Jesse. Look at me."
I do, and his dark eyes are steady, patient in a way I don't deserve.
"You're not wasting my time. And you don't owe me any answers about who you are or what you want. You just have to be honest about what you're feeling right now, in this moment."
Right now. In this moment.
My mind drifts to yesterday, to everything that happened. I think about watching him work, about the careful way he touches his camera, his models, everything in his orbit. I think about the photo on his laptop screen, about the trust written across my own face, and realize that maybe that's the most honest I've ever been about anything.
"Right now, in this moment," I say, my voice barely there, "I want you to touch me again."
CHAPTER 12
JESSE
THE SILENCE STRETCHES between us like a tightrope I'm balanced on, arms windmilling, trying not to fall into the abyss of my own stupidity. Austin's eyes search my face, and I wonder what he's finding there.
Desperation?
Confusion?
The sexual awakening of a twenty-nine-year-old man who apparently doesn't know jack shit about himself?
God, I'm a walking cliché.
A cautionary tale they'll tell in support groups:Here's what happens when you get clean and your brain finally starts working again—you discover you've been living someone else's life.
But then Austin moves closer on the couch, and my internal commentary shuts the fuck up because his knee is brushing mine and the laptop is getting pushed aside like anafterthought. His hand finds my jaw, thumb brushing across my lower lip in the exact same spot he touched yesterday, and the contact sends electricity straight to my dick.
"You sure about this?" he asks, and his voice has gone lower, rougher around the edges.
My heart is hammering against my ribs like it's trying to break free and sprint for the exit, but I nod anyway. "Yeah. I'm sure."
