He falters, then gives me a practiced, disgusted glare. But I see a ruddy blush land at the base of his neck, this time.
“I’m allowed to be curious. I’ve had my lips on your cock, so why is it a big deal if I want them on your mouth?”
“I know,” I tell him. “If youaregoing to try to kiss me, though, at least do it out in the middle of the party? It would be very satisfying to make a whole lot of women jealous?—”
He blinks, something shifting in his gaze.
Like the fear is claiming him again, and he’s scared of how much he’s admitted to me.
“You need dry clothes,” he says in a low tone. “Then you can head home.”
Not going to happen.
Please, just be real with me.
You don’t want me to head home at all.
“Sounds good,” I tell him, calling his bluff. He nods, then turns and pushes open the bathroom door, the sound of the party rushing in.
I follow him upstairs.
Neither of us say anything as we head up, and he leads me to a door that must be his room.
I hover in the doorway, waiting as he roots through a dresser drawer and finds clean sweatpants and a long-sleeve, folding them into a neat stack before coming back to hand them to me.
The current between us may as well be a fucking electrical storm in the air, filling the space between us like it’s alive.
“I’ll unblock you,” he says as he pulls out his phone, “because I know you need access to meso badly, Sev.”
Say what you fucking want, Wes.
Say it.
I know you feel this, too.
I refuse to budge. I’d rather edge him like this, knowing he’s just as hard as I am right now as he looks down at his phone screen.
“Well,” I say. “Good night, then. I’ll quit bugging you.”
I’m only a few steps down the hallway before my phone buzzes in my pocket.
When I pull it out and see Weston’s name on the screen, it feels like I’ve just won a game I didn’t know I was playing.
But it also makes my heart happy.
I like seeing Weston come out of his shell.
There you are.
I’m sorry.
For pushing me in the pool or for almost kissing me?
I know if I turned around and went back to his doorframe, he’d be right there inside his room waiting.
There’s no reason to text like this, but I humor him anyway.
Torturing him, while I torture myself at the same time.