Seven

Nic

I consider it. Jerking off. My cock is demanding attention, aching. But it would take too long. That's… well, I can't do that. He came ridiculously fast, was close that whole time. That's the norm for guys our age. It's not like that for me—that easy. It hasn't been for a while.

Everything I've read–– read because it's too daunting to ask a professional outright—says it'll only be a problem until I stop taking my antidepressants. Usually, it's only a mild concern. Being turned on and wanting sex don't always go hand in hand with me. In fact, it's sort of out of the ordinary for that to happen. Looking for sex really means that I'm looking for a break. A way to punish myself. It's never all that nice or comforting. I say yes, but I can't say I've ever actually wanted it. It's simply what I need in those moments. Deserve.

Right now, though, I can't imagine putting myself through that. I want… something. Not to hurt, and isn't that something? That I want to feel good .

How irritating that it's because of Cade.

But the last thing I need is for Cade to witness me struggling to come. I'd never live that down. Hell, I don't know how he's going to live what just happened down. I chuckle at the thought. How embarrassing for him. That he gave in so easily, enjoyed me and my general disdain for him so much. The sounds he made…

I groan, giving myself a single stroke before I let go completely. It's not a good idea. But neither was that whole mess.

I shouldn't have done it. Spoken to him like that. Everything I've done in regard to him since I showed up here has been wrong. It's like I walked into a mess and just started wiping it down, but instead of cleaning shit up, it's only spread it all around. Made things worse. I don't like hearing things like that—the things I said to him.

I feel guilty. It's sitting heavy in my stomach. But it's also not killing the urge to come, and that makes me feel even worse. I shouldn't have done it, and I definitely shouldn't have liked it.

Cade wasn't wrong in saying that I could have ignored it. That's what I should have done. Instead, I told him to say my name. I wanted to hear it—those sexy moans all wrapped in my name because it was me who caused them. It was presumptuous and bold, but I knew I was right.

He was touching himself because of me—the stepbrother he hates. He knew it. He might have even hated it but was too weak to deny himself. He wanted it— me —too badly.

It was kind of nice not being the weak one for once. That in itself is good enough to negate the blue balls. Or that's what I try to convince myself anyway. The way the fabric of my sweats stretches over my dick as I move tells me it doesn't exactly agree. I can't remember the last time it had been so needy, so hard. It's like it's been dormant, this side of me. I guess all it needed was for me to call a guy a slut.

Too bad it's a waste.

My shoulders relax as I make my way into the hallway. I need more of that, that easy breathing and muscle relief—a lot more of it—before I go back in there.

It's hard to believe someone like Cade wants me that way. I was there and still can't seem to wrap my head around it.

" Hey ," a hushed voice startles me, making me jump.

"What the fuck?"

"Sorry," Baby says with a little snicker. "What are you doing?"

I stand there, feeling strange as my cock slowly softens in this dark hallway. Hopefully, he can't see it. "I can't sleep."

He hums, still standing there in front of his door. "Want to smoke a bowl? Helps me sleep sometimes." His slim shoulders shrug, visible even in the dark.

Baby's alright. He's… snarky? Mostly nice. Unless he's talking to Logan. I've only seen him a handful of times, but each time involved Baby snapping at him.

"Sure," I say just before my silence gets awkward. "But don't bite me."

He laughs at that like I'm kidding. But I'm not. I don't want to be high and have him chomp on me out of nowhere.

"Do you like it here?" he asks me as he opens his door.

I have to squint to filter the sudden light and end up closing my eyes altogether as I get closer. "Um, yeah. It's cool."

"What's it––you can sit on the bed. Or the bean bag. What's it like rooming with Cade?"

It's still hard to open my eyes, not used to the light just yet, but I manage to pry them open enough to see the massive bean bag chair he has sitting in the corner of his room. This room is a lot smaller than the one Cade and I share, but this chair is huge.

"It's… fine," I say as I sit back, the top of my shoulders leaning back against the wall. What a loaded question. It sucks. Cade in my face close to twenty-four-seven is frustrating, but also, it's not half as bad as I thought it was going to be.

"He's cool. I like to tease him, but he's pretty much always been my favorite roommate."

"You didn't like Liam?"

"Everybody likes Liam. It's hard not to."

I bristle at that. I personally found it real easy. He and Cade have always been the very definition of unlikeable in my eyes.

"Plus, I mean—–" He pauses to take the first hit, cornering the edge of the bowl with his pink lighter. I honestly expected more pink in here, but looking around, it's very muted. Even this fat bean bag chair is a basic grey. The most color is on his bed, a cluster of stuffed animals all over his pillows, which makes sense. It's not that Baby is all that femme—the occasional crop top and girly pajamas––but he just seemed frilly. I expected more pink.

It feels like a small forever before he's talking again. "He's hot."

I scoff, taking the pipe from his outstretched hand as he settles crisscross on the edge of his bed.

"Are you gonna try to lie and say he's not?"

"He's…" I grunt, choosing to inhale rather than answer. He's alright. Anytime I saw him, he was next to Cade, so I'm sure that has something to do with why I've never been impressed. It'd be hard for anyone to stand out next to Cade.

"He's hot. So is his boyfriend."

I cough. I cough loudly , my lungs burning at the failed attempt that sad hit was. " Fuck ," I wheeze, my chest burning. "Holy shit." I drag in a deep breath as Baby lets out another one of those creepy little laughs.

"You good?"

"Fine. I just thought… what did you say?" I blink away the moisture in my eyes and ignore the pinch in my lung.

"What?" He takes his weed back.

I try to clear my throat again, ignoring it when Baby laughs at me.

"Are you a lightweight? Want to skip a few?"

I glare at him as I hold my hand out. That's the second time I've been called that in the span of a few hours. "I'm not a big pothead, so excuse me for choking on literal smoke." Shithead. "You were talking about Liam and…" I wave a hand, holding my breath and hoping he can't tell that I'm holding in another bark.

"Oh, yeah. Homie just decided he was into dudes one day and bagged the hottest, beefiest, tattooed gay man in the city. Sebastian. "

" Liam —Cade's best friend?" I ask, hoping to make sense of this shit. Maybe I am a lightweight. Two hits might be enough for me. "I thought he was a homophobe."

He laughs, loudly . "So did I! When I first met him, I'd flirt with him relentlessly. I was trying to press his buttons but I don't know. I don't think he realized that's what I was doing—he's not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. Poor thing." He smiles like one might grin when talking about a baby or something. "At least he's pretty."

"He's not––whatever." I huff, leaning back with a flick of my wrist when he tries to hand it back to me. Liam and Cade always had girls all over them, but it's possible my bias has kept me from seeing them as anything more than annoying as fuck. They both like men now. Nothing makes sense. I'm cutting myself off.

"He has a boyfriend?"

"Mmhm. A big one."

I sink lower in the chair––why do they call bean bag chairs chairs? It's not a chair. It's a bag. There are no legs. But it is nice to sit on. I stretch my neck over the back of it, getting comfortable. It feels like my head is floating and like I need something to drink, but it's also just peaceful, and I don't want to get up.

"A big one." I huff a quiet laugh out of my nose. "Wait. Does Cade know?" That's a dumb question. They're best friends. They know everything about each other.

Baby's eyes widen as he nods, excited to speak but not wanting to waste the hit he just took. "Yup." The p pops on his lips. "He kissed Liam."

"That's not surprising." It's really not—Cade has always been a little too obsessed with the baseball player. I close my eyes and ignore it when I feel a bit of something in my chest. Not just weed.

"No, you don't get it. Liam was dating Sebastian already. Like, head over heels for the guy, and Cade kissed him anyway."

I open one eye. "What?" That's fucked up, but also, I'm not surprised.

Baby nods. "Got sent to the hospital for it."

" What? " I sit up, but that kind of sucks, so I let myself fall back immediately.

He goes on to tell me a whole lot of stuff that makes fuck all sense. Liam likes a dick, and that dick punched Cade in the face— broke his nose. I don't get it. They've been best friends since… well, I don't even know. Long before I came into the picture. Why would Liam be okay with that—with his supposed boyfriend hitting his best friend?

What a bitch. Both of them—Liam and the tattooed beefy dude. I don't even like Cade, and it bugs me that someone hit him.

Someone else .

That's got to be why I haven't seen Liam around. A part of me wondered, but mostly, I was relieved. Cade is a lot more tolerable on his own. They used to do everything together.

Liking dick is included in that everything , apparently.

"He's coming over tomorrow. Today, I guess."

"Oh." I get to watch Cade get all dopey around him again. "Wonderful."

∞∞∞

"W hat the fuck?"

I pause rubbing my eyes, and shut Baby's door as quietly as I can. He's still asleep. It's just instinct to try and keep quiet, not be a rude fuck. That's, of course, not in Cade's instincts, though.

"You slept in Baby's room."

It doesn't sound like a question, and if it were, it'd be too stupid to answer anyway. Because obviously, I did. I didn't mean to, but he—my now favorite roommate—was right. Weed can knock a lightweight out. And bean bag chairs are cozy as fuck.

"Why?"

I look at him, fresh-faced and bright-eyed. It's too fucking early to look that good. Unless you're Cadence Howard, I guess. The backpack hanging at his side clues me in that he's dressed for school, so it's slightly forgivable. It'd be more so if he didn't look like a dweeb. He wears a lot of basic T-shirts. Plain. Most of my shirts are graphic band tees, something I remember him hating on when we were teens.

I wouldn't call Cade posh, but he's very much put together. Preppy is maybe a better word. Always has been. A lot like Liam, actually.

The reminder that Lian is supposed to be here later today has my eyes narrowing. My thighs hurt, I'm dehydrated, and my eyes feel like they've been rubbed with sandpaper, so I'm in a bad mood and don't want to deal with this first thing in the morning. "Can you just tell me what your problem is so we can get it over with?"

"Why were you in Baby's room?" He's glaring, looking way too tense for a guy who had the privilege of coming his brains out last night.

That's why I was in Baby's room. I want to tell him, but it's too early to deal with his nonsense. Still, I can't help but smile, and that—for whatever reason—only seems to piss him off more.

He scoffs, sputtering in that way he does so often. "You—" His eyes slide to the door at my shoulder, and he sighs, the sound rough as he aggressively runs a hand up and down his face a few times before he just walks past me altogether.

That was anticlimactic, and where I know I should be relieved not to have to put him in his place when I haven't even had the chance to piss today, I sort of feel uneasy about it. I grunt as I dig the heel of my palm into my leg, trying to soothe the burn just as Cade shuts the front door behind him.

Maybe he doesn't want me to be friends with his friends. He never wanted me around Liam, so it tracks. It's not even like we are friends, Baby and me. All we did was smoke and talk about nothing—my vitiligo, work, Christmas, and school plans. Nothing meaningful.

But it had been nice—once we stopped talking about Liam. I don't have friends. Corby. Sort of. It's hard for me to make connections . That's kind of my whole schtick, but it felt like I was on my way to doing that very thing last night.

What a piece of shit for not being okay with that. Good enough to make his dick hard when nobody is around but not good enough for his friends .