Page 21 of Gay for Pray
In the morning, I’m sure he’ll hate me for this, for knowinghow desperately he’s craving touch under that hard, religious exterior. But for now, everything feels good, and I won’t take that away from him.
Or from myself.
Chapter Twelve
Theodore
CONSCIOUSNESS SEIZES ME BY the throat and jolts me back into my body. I startle awake, shocked to be in my own body, shocked to be alert, shocked to feel coherent and aware. I get one second to blink, then every nerve ending in my body aches, a symphony of discomfort lancing from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes. Nothing hurts that bad, but it all hurts a little, and that adds up to the most unpleasant morning of my entire life.
Then I notice the arm around my waist.
The arm is limp with sleep, hanging lightly over me, but the position suggests it was once holding me. Someone lies against my back, their breaths deep and even.
The presence of the stranger alerts me to the fact that this isn’t my room. I’ve never seen this room in my life. There’s a university-issued desk with a laptop and books scattered across it, so I must still be at A.S.S. Uni., but beyond that, the clothes heaped on the floor in disorganized piles offer no clues as to where I am or who I’m with. The posters on the wall depict strangers, most of them in flamboyant clothes. A few even have rainbow backgrounds.
A slow dread seeps through me. The previous night returns in flashes. The party. Someone handing me a glass. Me drinking while I watched Jude dance. Stumbling outside to get some air. The memories fracture after that point, but there is one thingthat stands out—Jude. Jude coming outside to help me, carrying me home, sitting me down on a bed.
Oh God. What have I done?
I can’t help but jolt this time, ripping myself out of the stranger’s arms and sitting up in a bed I don’t recognize. When I look down, my heart drops. Jude lies behind me, blinking at the rough wake up call. The moment he finds me gaping at him, he jerks up.
That’s when I realize we’re both in nothing but underwear.
I grab at the sheets, trying to cover myself, but Jude displays no such bashfulness. He holds up his hands as though to calm a startled horse, but he doesn’t try to cover up the smooth expanse of his bare chest. Dark hair trickles down his abs and covers his legs, but a lot less than I’m sporting. He’s lean, but not as skinny as I assumed. I drag my eyes up him, shaking myself for staring. His blue eyes are bleary, but they spark a memory, a memory of staring into those eyes last night, of diving into them when I felt lost and confused and disoriented, of finding solace and security in that gaze. Perhaps that’s the reason I don’t bolt then and there.
“Relax,” Jude says softly. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”
“What happened? Why am I in your room?”
“You’re okay,” he says again. “You needed a place to crash last night, so I brought you here.”
“You brought me to your room to crash?”
He shrugs, and I try not to watch how the casual motion ripples across his chest, muscle moving under warm skin. “Where else was I going to take you? You were too fucked up to stay at the party, and I don’t know where your dorm room is. I figured this was the safest place to go.”
I was “fucked up.” How? I didn’t even drink, aside from juice. I shake my head, struggling to wrap my mind around the implications.
“I don’t understand any of this.”
“I know,” Jude says. “It’s okay. You might feel kind of crappy today, but you’re going to be fine.”
I scoff. “More than kind of.”
He grimaces with real pity, which stands out as weird even given the circumstances I find myself in. “Yeah, I thought you might. I have something that can help. Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”
I nod, and Jude clambers off the bed and fishes a pair of sweatpants off the floor. Somehow, when the pants are hanging from his hips, the elastic of his briefs still showing, he looks even more tempting than he did nearly naked.
I rub a hand over my face as he bustles from the room. What is happening to my head? Why are these thoughts hitting me so hard now of all times? I’m finally on the path to my ultimate goal, and suddenly all the thoughts I’ve been suppressing all my life are battering me like hail pounding on a tin roof. The temptation is a constant din in the back of my mind, distracting me from the correct way forward, and a lot of it seems to be focused on Jude.
Why now, God? Is this a test? Am I failing? Have I already failed?I pray, but instead of getting an answer from the divine, I get Jude, shirtless, his hair a beautiful mess, his cheeks still warm with lingering sleep. He reenters the room carrying two mugs, and the second he passes one to me, I almost groan with pleasure. The scent of fresh coffee winds down my throat, healing everything it touches on its way to my gut.
“I put some creamer in it,” Jude says, “but I don’t know if you want anything else in it.”
“It’s perfect,” I say before I can think better of it.
I take a long sip, letting the warmth soak into me. A cup of coffee has never tasted or felt so good in my life, and I cradle the mug in both hands and hunch over it like it’s my Bible and I’msitting in church.
Church.
