6. Miller

I probably shouldn’t have said that.

Yeah, I definitely shouldn’t have said it, but the pinched, prudish look on Ryan’s face is making it so worth it. He flails for a second, turning away and showing me the arch of his back and his sexy-as-hell denim-clad ass, and then turns back again quickly. He grabs his pajamas from under his pillow and scurries to the bathroom, and I really do mean scurries. He all but trots, taking quick, tiny steps to cover the space, arms stiff at his sides in an attempt not to look like he’s fleeing the scene.

Not going to lie, I love everything about it.

No idea why, but the thrill it gives me to shock him like that is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I feel awake for the first time in a long time. Wide awake. Alive. My heart’s beating faster than usual. My senses are heightened. I’m pretty sure I can smell him even though he’s still locked in the bathroom. A deep, masculine musk, a hint of rainwater and annoyance. A rare and unfamiliar top note. Something sexy. Something I’m not used to. I sniff the air again to identify it.

Wait. Is that a challenge I smell?

And as for my dick? That bad boy is rock solid.

I’m not saying I have an infallible gaydar, much as I’d like to claim one, but I will say that I can’t think of a time I’ve been entirely wrong off the top of my head. I’ve asked around, and no one seems to know shit about Ryan. Aside from the fact that he’s a little weird or borderline scary, depending on who you ask, and he hangs out in the library a lot, no one seems to know anything about him. Nothing useful, at least. Nothing like he’s a total butt slut or he spends his free time chugging cum by the gallon.

That makes me sad, but I’m going to make it my business to find out more about him.

I strip down to my boxers and wait as he takes his sweet time in the bathroom. When he comes out, he side-steps me, giving me an unnecessarily wide berth as he makes his way to his bed.

My eyes don’t leave his. He looks straight ahead, unblinking as he passes, but right at the last second, right at the very last moment when I’ve started to think it won’t happen, he looks down. As soon as he realizes what he’s done, he spins his head to the side, overcorrecting hard enough to cause whiplash.

He’s not straight, says my dick. There’s no fucking way he’s straight.

“Sleep well,” I say.

So worn down is he by the day he’s had, he forgets himself and replies almost politely, “Night.”

I run the shower hot enough to scald me and only get in when the whole cubicle is filled with steam. I breathe it in deeply, but it isn’t enough to lessen the tension in my body.

I saw that look, the quick, furtive dip of his eyes, the hunger and aggravation when he dragged them back to my face. There’s no way he’s straight. Ryan Haraway likes dick. I’d put money on it.

He’s got to be pan or bi, right? His signals are weird though. Hard to read. Skittish and inconsistent.

Hmm. Maybe he doesn’t know what he likes yet.

Maybe he’s curious.

Soap and shampoo run down my body as I rinse myself. I close my eyes and run my hands over my chest, stopping to flick my nipples, charging them, waking them up, sending a message all the way to my cock. My right hand follows the message. I soap my dick and start stroking, thinking about what it was like when I was curious. Little spikes of hard-to-explain interest peaking when I was around certain guys. Heightened focus. Hypervigilance. Funny, innocent things would do it, like the way they walked or how their voices went husky when they were out of breath from playing sports. A deep, churning feeling, probing, needling at me. A wondering. Intense inquisitiveness that made me tingly inside.

What would it feel like to touch a guy? To kiss him? To hold him? To grind up against him?

Would it feel different from kissing a girl?

Would it feel better or worse?

It was a feeling that only got stronger the older I got.

I remember a night at Sienna’s house in junior high. I was at peak curiosity at the time. I was such a curious cat it was hard for me to think of other things. Sienna’s parents were away, and a bunch of us were hanging out together. We’d been drinking vodka from her dad’s bar and playing spin the bottle. I’d already kissed Sienna and her friend, Macy. I still had the taste of cherry ChapStick and booze on my tongue when the bottle I’d spun landed on Caleb Mason. Everyone was quiet for a second, and then there were a few jeering whoops.

Sienna smiled and spun the bottle again, and as she did it, I shrugged and said, “Too bad. I’d have kissed him.”

Everyone laughed.

Everyone except Caleb.

Later that night, we were walking down the long driveway to the street where our drivers were waiting to take us home. Most people had already left, and it was quiet, almost ghostly due to the late hour and the cold bite in the air. Caleb was walking next to me. He wasn’t talking much, and I thought he might be mad about what I said, but when we got to the gate, instead of walking through it, I felt his hand on my arm. He pulled me behind the dogwood hedge that grew along the fence without a word. The moon glinted in his eyes, and when I looked down, I saw his hands were trembling. Neither of us moved for a few seconds. My thoughts were racing as I tried to work out what was happening. Then he grabbed hold of me by the neck roughly and lowered his mouth onto mine.

By the time he was done, I was shaking too.

I learned many things that night. For one thing, I learned that if you tell people what you want, you’ll be surprised by how often you get it. And for another, it does feel different kissing a guy. Not better or worse, but different. Mainly, though, I learned that it wasn’t just curiosity. It wasn’t just a wondering or a need-to-know situation.

I’m bisexual from head to toe. It’s who I am. Always have been. Always will be.

I pump my hand up and down steadily, letting the water slick my grip on my dick. I think of Ryan’s face earlier, tense and prissy. Lips pressed together and turned down in clear disapproval of me. Pleasure flows through me as I touch myself, a soft murmur at first but quickly growing stronger. I think of Ryan’s mouth. I think of prying his lips open. Parting them where they’re clamped together. Using my tongue to do it. Holding him hard, one hand around the back of his neck and the other on the small of his back to stop him from getting away. I think of my body pressed up against his, keeping him in place, both of us hard as I take the first taste.

I come unexpectedly fast. Hard enough to make me grunt loudly.

Wonder if he heard me?

Kind of hope he did.