Jesse

Fuck.

All the way back to the party, I couldn’t stop asking myself why I said that to Nate of all people.

We’d just had an amazing, hot as fuck kiss, and if he hadn’t been drunk, I would have totally wanted to do more, if he was up for it, and then I had to go and open my big, stupid mouth.

I know that’s not how bisexuality works and that’s why I don’t call myself bisexual. I don’t identify with anything and I don’t think anyone else would understand how I feel when it comes to sex and who I’m attracted to.

I didn’t mean to be offensive when I said I’d never end up with a guy, but even I know it was. It’s probably for the best. I already broke the bro code by making out with my friend’s brother. Maybe it was a good thing it didn’t go any further, and it never will now.

But I can’t leave things with Nate like this.

Even if he never wants to make out with me again, I’m bound to bump into him at his house or at the occasional hockey game. He’ll probably be safe at the library, and we don’t have classes in the same building, but it’s a small town and we’re bound to cross paths at some point.

The good thing about being designated driver is waking up without a hangover. I can’t imagine Nate will be hangover-free today.

I don’t expect him to ignore me if I text him asking if he wants me to bring over hangover food, but I don’t expect him to say yes either. But I need him to know that I’m not an asshole. An idiot, yes, but not an asshole.

What if I just went over there? I know Jones won’t be there because he and the girl he was having very loud sex with all night last night are still asleep next door, and I can’t see them getting up before this afternoon.

I’m not scared of facing their dad either, and the more I think about it, the less I like the idea of Nate alone, feeling like shit in a house he doesn’t want to be in.

I think about what I crave (and what actually makes me feel better) when I’m hungover and whittle a huge list down to Five Guys fries and grilled cheese sandwiches, and a shit ton of water.

The nearest Five Guys is a thirty-five minute walk or a ten minute drive away, so I leave Jones a note saying,

Borrowed your car, will cook when I get back,

Engels

And just hope he won’t kill me when he wakes up.

I start to think this is a bad idea when I get closer to Nate’s house and see the big roof poking out from the trees. At least there’s no cars parked up on the driveway when I pull up. I think about calling Nate, just to check he’s actually home, but if he tells me not to come, then what am I supposed to do with all this food? Well, I could bring it back to the house, but no, fuck that, I’m going to apologise to Nate and not let him be alone.

I ring the doorbell and try to ignore the sound of my heart beating in my ears while I wait to see if anyone will answer.

No answer. I ring the bell again. Wait a few minutes.

Finally, there’s a shape behind the frosted glass in the door.

When Nate opens the door, I’m taken back by the sight of him in his PJs. His hair messy.

He looks half asleep like I just woke him up and when he realises it’s me and not a delivery guy, he starts trying to smooth down his hair and I have to stop myself from smiling. I still fucked things up, and I still shouldn’t be anywhere near my teammate’s brother, not when I’ve made out with him already and am thinking about doing it again, especially when he’s looking like that.

“I brought food,”

I hold the Five Guys bag up and hope he doesn’t slam the door in my face.

He opens his mouth and doesn’t say anything for a second, “I… thanks.”

Nate turns around and walks back into the house and I follow him and close the door.

“Are you home alone?”

“Yep.”

He stands in the middle of the room separating the pool from the rest of the house, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself and like he could pass out on his feet.

“You can go back to bed with your food if you want, I just wanted to come by and say sorry.”

He frowns, “what for?”

“I know I pissed you off last night, I’m not that dumb.”

“You’re not…”

“It’s okay, I know, I understand how it works, and I know you’re too hungover to have this conversation right now, so… yeah, sorry.”

Nate’s face softens. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

Yes. Ah fuck I hate the way I melt at that innocent invitation.

Nate puts a movie on the huge TV in the den. There’s a big wraparound couch with tons of cushions and Nate settles into one corner and I settle into another and put the food down between us.

“I know you think you want burgers and tacos, but trust me, you don’t.”

“You went to Five Guys and you didn’t get burgers? What kind of psycho are you?”

Nate widens his eyes, “sorry, I think I’m still a little drunk.”

I laugh, “just take it from someone who’s been hungover like twenty-percent of his adult life, fries and Five Guys grilled cheese sandwiches are what you need right now, and water.”

Nate starts unpacking his food and takes a tentative bite of a fry. He closes his eyes and moans and I have to remind myself to behave.

“Good?”

“Yes, very, thank you.”

“What are we watching?”

“Oh!”

he looks excited and I hate how much it makes me feel all warm inside. “I wanted to show you this, it’s called Pretty in Pink, it’s an old 80s movie me and Katie watch all the time, there’s a really good scene with an Otis Redding song in I thought you’d like.”

He’s been thinking about movie recommendations for me? He practically made me a mixtape. No, don’t get carried away, it’s just a movie.

We watch the movie in silence and Nate starts slowing down on the food after the first few enthusiastic bites of his grilled cheese. I know that sick, but hungry feeling well.

When it comes up to the scene Nate wanted to show me, he perks up and points at the TV, “this is it!”

The poor guy who’s in love with the red-haired girl comes into the record store where she works while they’re listening to Try a Little Tenderness on a record player and starts dancing around the store.

It is a cool scene, but I mostly love how I can see Nate staring at the side of my face while I watch to see if I like it as much as he thought I would.

When the scene ends, he says, “so… what did you think?”

“It was cool, I liked it. I like this movie.”

Nate grins, “don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you like Pretty in Pink.”

“I don’t care, I’m secure in my masculinity or whatever. I have Tina Turner and Cher on my Spotify playlists.”

“Cher!?”

“Hey, Cher’s an icon.”

“Yeah a gay icon.”

I must blush because Nate apologises.

I laugh. Say something . “Takes one to know one.”

Wow, well done.

Nate’s voice is low when he speaks again, “yeah well I don’t have Cher on my playlists.”

I pick a cushion up and hit him with it, not with even half the force I could obviously and he bursts out laughing and puts his arms up to protect himself. His pyjama shirt rides up and the sight of his bare belly makes my cock ache. Fuck, he’s beautiful.

His smile fades when he puts his arms down and catches me staring at him. When he fixes his shirt so his skin isn’t showing, I feel like I’m out of order for looking, but then he leans forward and presses his lips against mine and fuck, there’s that fizzle in the pit of my stomach again, like when we kissed at that party.

He’s not drunk this time so I don’t have to stop. But I should.

Nate puts his arms around my neck and pulls me closer and we meet in the middle, pushing the empty food packets on the floor.

When Nate wraps his legs around my waist, he’s hard and his cock feels so close through the thin material of his pyjamas. I could just slip my hand inside and…

He pulls me down on top of him and grinds his hips against me and moans into my mouth and fuck, I could come in my pants if he keeps doing this.

I pull away and press my lips against his neck, “fuck Nate, we should stop.”

He’s still grinding against me and I can feel his heart pounding against my chest. When he speaks, it’s through a ragged breath, “no.”

“No, don’t stop?”

“Don’t stop.”

“Have you done this before?”

He shakes his head.

Fuck.

I force myself to pull away.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says.

I want to believe him. I told myself your first time doesn’t matter too. But I still regret every first. The first time I slept with a girl and wasn’t ready, but didn’t think guys should feel like that, so forced myself to do it anyway.

Or the first time I met up with some guy on a seedy chat site and got an awkward blow job in the passenger seat of a jeep.

I think about the awkwardness that followed those firsts. The silence and how we could barely look at each other. How we never spoke to each other again and would have been embarrassed if we ever crossed paths. I don’t want that with Nate. Definitely don’t want to be a part of anyone else’s awkward first time memories.

“You shouldn’t have your first time with me.”

I sit up and arrange myself so my cock isn’t straining against my jeans.

Shit. That awkward silence I was trying to avoid is here anyway.

“I don’t want things to be awkward between us,”

I say, “and I don’t want to be part of something you regret.”

“,”

Nate puts a hand on my arm. I wait for him to say something else, but he just keeps it there for a minute before letting it drop.

“You’re right,”

he says eventually, “I was rushing into it. I’m hungover and all over the place.”

“I know, it’s okay.”

“Not that I don’t want to do that with you, I do, obviously.”

He sinks back into his corner and I know better than to look at him, he’s obviously going to look hot as fuck.

“I don’t want to be a twenty-one year old virgin.”

“There’s no shame in being a virgin.”

“I know. It’s just, I don’t want to be.”

My heart pounds in my ears. Maybe I could make sure his first time isn’t awkward? I might not be smart, like his future boyfriend will be, but I’m not a total dick, and I won’t treat him like shit. And I don’t mean to blow my own horn, but I’m pretty good at sex, or at least, people have told me I am. Maybe I could stop him from making a mistake with someone who wants to use him because he’s in a rush and they can see it a mile away? Maybe…

Someone puts a key in the front door and Nate stiffens.