Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Bashful: Did you get probed?
Did I get probed? That caught my attention, making my cock stir slightly, but I still didn’t connect the dots, until I remembered the deleted texts. Aliens.
Me: Unfortunately, no. It’s been a while since I’ve been probed or done any probing.
Bashful: I’m sorry.
I frowned. I wanted to call him but knew he was likely with his team—in a hotel room with a roommate or traveling.
Me: You have nothing to apologize for. I didn’t mean that to sound like it was directed at you because we didn’t fuck. I loved what we did.
I stared at my phone like that would make him respond faster. Or at all. Nothing came through for a long time. My eyes were gritty, straining as I stared at the light on the screen with the room dark around me. I was starting to feel like I’d done something wrong. I wished I hadn’t deleted the texts so I could read them again, and I reread over and over the ones still there.
Eventually, I set my phone down and tried to get some sleep, but I couldn’t. This whole situation was so fucked. I didn’t know how we’d gotten to this point or where we actually were. I wasn’t sure what it meant, or what I wanted it to mean, or how Anson felt. I just knew, outside of wanting him, I cared about him too.
A couple of hours later my phone buzzed.
Bashful: You’re probably asleep, but I wanted to be alone when I messaged.
Instead of messaging back, I called.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.
“You didn’t. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah…no…fuck, I don’t know. Just thinking about a lot of things lately.”
“I know, baby,” I answered, then tried to change the subject. “Did you listen to that song I sent you yesterday?” I’d sent him a link to a new indie band I’d found and really liked that I thought he would like too.
“Yeah. I bought the album. That band is great.” He was speaking softly. I couldn’t say if it was because he worried about someone approaching and hearing, or if it was his mood. “Ouch, shit.”
“What happened?”
“I’m just sore. Took some nasty hits tonight. I need to see our trainer tomorrow for a massage.”
“I’m good with my hands. I’d rub you down if I were there.” He sighed, and I added, “I was joking.” I always joked with him that way, always had, but something about this call, about the sound of his voice, made my heart clench, made an unfamiliar ache burrow deep inside me. Was this it? Was he going to say he couldn’t talk to me anymore? Pain spread through me, clawing at my heart. “Just say it.”
“It would be easy with Mia.” Well, fuck. That wasn’t how I expected him to respond. “On Thanksgiving, that was all I could think about—how fucking easy it would be with her. Mom and Elias love her. She’s my best friend’s sister. She loves football and knows as much about it as we do. She gets what it’s like to love a football player and would understand the schedule, the commitment, the risks.”
My pulse raced. My jaw worked, my molars grinding together. The thought of him with her…with anyone, hurt. Jesus fucking Christ, it nearly killed me. “What are you trying to tell me here? Did you get with her? Are you going to?” What the hell was he thinking? “Are you going to fake it your whole life and be miserable? Fuck that, Anson! You deserve better than that. She’s—”
“Not you.” His words cut me off. “I mean, a man in general. The whole time I was thinking about how easy it would be, it wasn’t enough. I will never want her the way I want you. I will never want any woman the way I want a man, and it’s not fucking fair!” He pulled in a breath, lowered his voice again, and said, “It’s not fucking fair. I knew having you would make me want it more, would make it harder.”
Too many thoughts were running circles in my head. He’d been holding this in for over a week. We’d spoken since the Thanksgiving that shall not be named, and he hadn’t mentioned it at all. Something had changed tonight. “I don’t know what you want me to say here. Fair has nothing to do with it. You are who you are, just like I am who I am. There’s nothing wrong with that. I love being gay. I love wanting men. I love being with men, and I hate that you don’t.”
“I do…that’s the thing. You were there. You know how much I loved being with you.”
“But you don’t want to love it.” That truth stung me more than it should.
“No, I do. Believe me, I do. I’ve been thinking about it since I left California, especially during Thanksgiving with everyone. I don’t want to want Mia or any other woman. I like wanting you, being with you. It’s the outside shit.”