Jay

Chapter 47

When I wake up the next morning, he squeezes me tighter, and I groan. I shuffle back, and his dick pokes me, and I gasp and jump out of bed, disappearing into the bathroom. I lock the door and start pacing. "What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?"

I take a deep, shaky breath and look at myself in the mirror. My lips are slightly darker, bruised, maybe, and I have fucking stubble rash on my chin. I lean my hands on the side by the sink and close my eyes. Fuck, what the hell happened? One minute, we're talking, and the next, we're kissing and then the fumbling and… oh fuck. I pull my boxer shorts out and fuck, there's crusted cum everywhere, and I mean everywhere. I stare down at it. I don't think I've ever cum that hard, ever. What the fuck does that mean?

I can't deal right now, so I step into the shower and scrub every inch of me clean. I close my eyes and rest my head on the side of the wall. I take a deep breath and try to unpack everything. I try to still my pounding heart and try to figure out my next move, but when I close my eyes, all I can see is him staring back at me. I can still feel the kiss of his lips against mine, and as I wash myself, it's his hands I feel caressing me, stroking me, and I slide my hand over my dick. I'm hard, so fucking hard, and I want to feel his hands on me. I try to rationalise everything, and none of it makes sense, but then it makes perfect sense. I fuck a lot of girls; none ever stay, though. I don't get close to anyone but Ryder. He's my best friend, my person. I'm freaking out right now, but all I want to do is curl into his arms while he holds me and tells me everything will be okay.

I towel off and step out into the bedroom. But he's gone. My shoulders sag, and I sigh out what the fuck have we done.

I pick up my phone to call him, but there's a message.

Ryder: "Jay."

His voice cracks, and he lets out a sob.

Ryder:"Fuck, Jay. I'm so sorry, I'm so, so, sorry, please don't hate me."

I squeeze my eyes closed, and a tear runs down my face. How could he ever think I hate him? I love him more than any other person in the world. I go to grab my favourite jogging suit, but it's gone. I look back into the bathroom, and his clothes are there.

"Motherfucker. He knows that's my favourite." I throw on a different one, grab a bag, shove his clothes in, and head out to my car. I need to see him. We need to sort this out, whatever the fuck this is, but whatever happens, I cannot lose my best fucking friend. I refuse to!