Page 8 of It's Just You

Sighing, I turned around. Who wanted something now? Mrs. Little from across the street? She usually came over to chat a little with my parents because she’d been lonely after her husband’s death. But it was too early for her, wasn’t it?

Traveling salesman? Unlikely. Religious peddlers? Probably.

I opened the door, still running through possibilities in my half-asleep brain. A slight pounding behind my left temple, I stopped short.

What the fuck?

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“Oh, um.” There was an awkward pause that stretched into seconds before he said, “Hi?”

Standing right in front of me, in different clothes but the same amount of makeup and glitter, was the guy from last night who’d come onto me.

That couldn’t be true, right? My face reddened instantly, even though he’d been the one to make the mistake. I hadn’t been flirting. His problem was when he mistook me being friendly. Still, it was awkward as fuck.

I still hadn’t said anything when Sam called out from the kitchen, “Is that Finn? He can have breakfast with us.”

“I— What? Finn?” I looked at the guy, then at the kitchen door.

“Yeah, Finn. My friend from school?” Sam’s spoon scraped the edge of a bowl.

“Shit,” I muttered. I knew it. Now that he’d said it… Finn had been an awkward, gangly teenager the last time I’d seen him. I hadn’t been much better, though I’d had a better handle on the acne front than he had. He wasn’t a teenager anymore.

I met Finn’s eyes — blue, huge, and surrounded by dark, thick, long lashes that were entirely too long and thick for a guy. But still a guy’s eyes, even if that guy happened to be very much gay.

“I’m— I’m sorry.” What else could I say? Not that even I knew why I was apologizing. “Do you want to come in?”

Finn’s face was lightly reddened too, but his eyes sparkled. “Sure.” He practically purred the word, and I finally knew what people meant when they used that turn of phrase. Was I still drunk? Had I gotten anything in my beer last night?

When I stepped inside, still too dumbfounded to say anything else, he sashayed past me into the foyer, all glittery and sparkling and smelling too fucking good.

“You’re not going to tell me you’re Sam’s brother, are you?” Finn interrupted my mental breakdown, pulling me back to the present.

“Um. Well. I am. I didn’t… You moved away ages ago, didn’t you? Wouldn’t have known you…” Well, duh. I hadn’t recognized him, after all.

Finn smirked. “Same here, actually. We were quite a bit younger when we saw each other last.” His eyes took me in. “Didn’t recognize you yesterday.”

“Same,” I forced out, not knowing what else to say. Being the subject of his interest wasn’t… Well, it was unsettling; who was I kidding? Yet it also… I couldn’t even word what I thought. No, I couldn’t even figure out what I thought.

“No worries. I won’t tell anyone about yesterday.” His eyes met mine, still full of amusement. “Though I embarrassed myself, not the other way around.” He giggled — what the fuck — and headed for the kitchen, leaving me alone in the foyer.

All I could do was shake my head and try to figure out what the hell that was all about. Didn’t it bother him? Why was I feeling way more embarrassed over being hit on than the person who’d flirted with me?

My brother and Finn were both in the kitchen, laughing and talking like it had been yesterday the last time they’d seen each other instead of years. Sam had roped Finn into helping, and I didn’t really want to stick around to see their reunion.

Instead, I went to my bedroom, unable to deal with Finn and his blue eyes and his laughter and everything else that made him someone I couldn’t help but be fascinated by.

A shower sounded good, even though it only took me until I stood under the hot spray to remember I had just had one the night before. I hadn’t jerked off… because I’d seen Finn’s face in my mind. It was an unsettling thought. It never, ever happened. My fantasies were almost always faceless, my jerkoffs more like scratching an itch than really trying to find pleasure.

Why did I keep thinking about him? Was it because I’d never met a guy with so much charisma or because I’d never had a guy accidentally flirt with me before — at least, as far as I knew?

I needed to stop thinking about him, because if I didn’t, I’d never be able to get him out of my brain at all.

Wrapping a hand around my cock, I tried to get hard, to try to get some of this pressure off of my mind. My shoulders were so fucking tense, my whole body poised like it was on the edge of a heavy workout, though I hadn’t planned on one.

So jerking off it was… and hopefully without visualizing Finn’s face again.

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