Page 50 of Kiss-Fist
He’s so fucking exciting. He’s like a roller coaster. I want to ride him and have him ride me.
I want to feel that swoop in my stomach as I fall over the edge. I get it even when I’m not coming my brains out. I justlike being near him. “Anyway,” I tell Dex, “the day we met, I dropped my water bottle and made it look like I pissed my pants. He didn’t even make fun of me for it.”
That I know of. At the time, I didn’t have any of his language apart from a few gym phrases. But he didn’t seem like he was making fun of me, which I appreciated. I took a lot of that growing up and having ADHD. It’s not just my brain that races. My body sometimes wants to move in ten different ways, and I’m always dropping shit or falling over my feet.
I’m suave in bed, but that’s where it tends to stop, and Robbie, so far, hasn’t made me feel like shit about it. It’s…well, frankly, it’s nice. I ruffle my hair and grin. “He also doesn’t make fun of my crappy spelling.”
Dex softens. He and I were too far apart in age to go to school together much, but he knew how hard that was on me. And he’s seen the way people could be shitty about it. “He seems like a green flag.”
I shrug and take a sip of my drink, my mind drifting. It’s late, and my meds are wearing off. I picture Robbie’s face in my mind—the way he smiles at me. Or the way he looks so damn hungry when he sees my muscles.
Sometimes that bothers me. I want to be liked for who I am, and not just as some himbo at the gym with big biceps, but there’s something about the way Robbie makes me work for it—for him—that transcends hotness.
“Thom,” my brother says softly.
I flush and smile. “Sorry. Million miles away.”
He shakes his head. “I know it’s late. We can head home if you want.”
“Nah. It feels good to be out, even if the gym pipes were a total cock-block.”
He laughs and rolls his eyes. “So you gonna ask him on a date? Seems you only fuck around at the gym or in his apartment.” It’s saying something that he’s not up my ass about screwing around on the gym property.
I eye Dex carefully. He might have a point. I should do better by Robbie. You know, be more of a gentleman. Not that I’m known for that, but I can give it a try.
“Yeah, I probably should, but I don’t know ASL well enough to have a deep conversation.”
“So? You have your phone, right? And a basic knowledge of it?”
“I mean, yeah. I think I may have enough, but shit. I wanna wait until I know more than the basics, you know?”
“So you just gonna fuck around with him until you can actually chat?”
“Well, yeah. I can learn as I go. Then maybe I’ll ask him out on a real date this summer when the class ends and I can talk about shit like my clothes and where I live.” God, that sounds pathetic. Like some guy with a freaking doctorate is going to be satisfied talking about how many bedrooms my house is and my favorite color.
This is a damn pipe dream.
“I think you’re gonna move faster than that,” Dex says, slurping on his soda. “You have a thing for languages.”
“Yeah, but you think it’ll be the same with sign?” I’ve been stressing about that nonstop. I like my language superpowers, but I’m not convinced ASL will be the same.
“I remember you were learning…what was it? French and Spanish a while back? You picked it up real quick. And you’re the only one who can kind of talk to Zev in ASL. I think you’ve got this. I know you’ve always been hard on yourself about your learning disabilities, but you’re smarter than you think you are, and if this guy’s worth it, he’ll realize that.”
My chest swells as I stare at my little brother. I’m not used to him being nice to me like this. And when did he get so insightful? I don’t know, but I’m fucking proud of him. And I’m so damn lucky. But I’m also done talking about Robbie. I’m kind of obsessed with him, but the more I think about our future, the more I start to get indigestion, and I think it’s time for a break.
“Come on, enough about me. Tell me about this lady friend and her melons.”
He grins and then sets his drink down, leaning in and diving into the harrowing tale of the supermarket meet-cute. By the time he’s done singing her praises, she seems cool, and my brother seems smitten. But he also tends to do this a lot. He goes all in for someone and ends up with his heart broken. I don’t want this to happen to him again.
I want him to be happy. And I want him to find someone who wants the same for him.
“So you think you’ll ask her out?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe we should do a double date,” I say, then feel a spark of uncertainty. Should I be suggesting this without asking Robbie first? I mean, he and I aren’t official. We’re not anything, actually, except two guys who touched dicks, ate some ass, and made each other come.
But I don’t take it back either. I want this—I want Robbieto meet the only bit of family I have. I want him to know these parts of me he hasn’t gotten a chance to yet. I want him to see I’m worth being patient for.
