Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I shook my head and laughed. “I like you, Ezra. I like you more than I should.”
His radiant grin split his handsome face in two. He pressed his lips to mine, then blew raspberries in the crook of my neck till I squealed and pushed him away.
“That is fucking music to my ears.”
I smiled. “Our living situation makes this tricky, but—”
“Let’s just take it slow, okay? It’s just us, Holden. We’ll be fine.”
Maybe it wasn’t overly romantic, but it was the right thing to say, in the right tone, with the right amount of emphasis. And when he pulled me close, I melted against him, too content to argue.
I didn’t question our change in dynamic, though I fully acknowledged it was a head-scratcher. A week or two ago, I would have happily packed his bags for him, but now…my hand was on his chest and his fingers caressed my hip, and everything about him felt strong and solid and good.
Sure, this might be momentary madness, but I couldn’t find a single solitary reason to push him away or freak out. It didn’t matter if he was my roommate, because he wouldn’t be for long. It didn’t matter that he was new to embracing his bi side either.
Sex didn’t have to be a big deal. Maybe the casual arrangement Marlon had suggested would work with Ezra. Maybe I could even call this my Script Club experiment…a late effort to achieve self-betterment…by having sex with my roommate.
No, wait. That was bad. And dangerous.
Except…there was absolutely no danger of falling for Ezra. He might not be the rapscallion I’d once thought, but we weren’t compatible in any way, shape, or form. And I knew he felt the same about me.
So…maybe this would be okay.
I hoped.
6
EZRA
Kissing a man was one thing. Jacking him off might be an experiment, but a blowjob…that was something else. Something kinda gay.
So, I was bi. Definitely bi. I’d known that, but it felt real now. I’d given into temptation, and it was everything I wanted and more.
Okay. Now what?
Like I told Holden, I didn’t have any immediate plans to come out. The timing wasn’t right. I couldn’t afford any major distractions with a big exam on the horizon.
As for the logistics of who to tell and when…I’d deal with that later. Not that anyone would care. It was more a matter of avoiding a bunch of awkward soul-revealing conversations and telling my “truth.” That shit could wait.
I didn’t give a fuck about anyone’s opinion. I just wasn’t wired like that.
I didn’t grow up in a religious household, which was interesting ’cause both of my parents had been raised Catholic. My grandparents were thrilled when I was accepted to Loyola Marymount. They’d hoped I’d be the one to steer the Marsdens on a virtuous path. I know. Don’t laugh.
But I liked our way better.
The LA Marsdens subscribed to live-and-let-live philosophy, which made sense ’cause we broke societal norms on the daily in our house. When we were kids, Mom was the main breadwinner while Dad did the laundry, cooked, handled carpools, and homework. If our friends or neighbors thought we had a strange family dynamic, no one commented.
Whatever. Bottom line, my sexuality didn’t require a deep-dive psychoanalysis. I wasn’t freaked out at all. I was curious and excited…and horny as fuck for the guy I’d secretly had a thing for since last September. The same guy who’d once told me he wasn’t going to miss me when I moved out.
Not to worry…I was definitely growing on Holden. And I had to admit, I liked this new vibe between us.
That following week marked a beginning of sorts. We were new lovers, cautious and unsure how to act around others, but voracious when we were alone. Which wasn’t often enough. A couple of stolen make-out sessions, a hand job in Holden’s room, and two bathroom blowjobs only made me want more.
Holden was this magic combination of someone familiar yet somehow brand new. I felt like an intrepid explorer unearthing clues I’d chosen to ignore for years. It was one thing to internally admit I might be wired differently, but to actively wrestle with discovery was so…invigorating and mind-blowing.
And no, it wasn’t just about sex.
This probably sounded crazy, but it was almost as if I’d woken up with supersonic sensory skills. I was seeing with new eyes and learning to listen with fresh perspective. The fact that Holden was nothing like me added an unexpected layer. I’d grown up in a houseful of jocks. My brothers and I played baseball, soccer, football, volleyball, lacrosse, and hung out with the cool kids in high school.
I was fairly intelligent, but Holden was a fucking astrophysicist and microbiologist. He was the kind of genius who knew how to do the math that sent astronauts to the moon and how to look for parasites and viruses. He told me his emphasis was on researching microorganisms in space. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend what the fuck that meant. I studied law. That was it.