Page 43 of Him
According to the alarm clock on the end table, it’s almost eleven-thirty. Dining hall stops serving breakfast at eleven. I’d slept right through it, but that’s okay. It’s our day off, so I’m not needed at the rink.
On the other hand, it’s our day off. That means hours and hours of free time. Time I’ll probably be spending with Wes. Who I hooked up with last night.
I don’t feel any different, though. I fooled around with a guy yesterday—shouldn’t I feel different?
Feel gay, you mean?
A laugh bubbles in my throat. Does one feel gay?
And damn it, I’m bewildered to discover I’m rocking a boner, and it’s more than just a case of morning wood. It’s Wes-wood, a result of thinking about us messing around.
I…think I might want to do it again. And how screwed up is that? I’d been fully prepared to view last night as a chemistry experiment. A test. I hadn’t expected to ace the damn thing.
The door suddenly swings open and Wes trudges inside, red-faced and breathing hard. He’s in running gear, the front of his sleeveless shirt drenched in sweat. He peels it off his muscular chest and throws it aside.
“It’s fucking hot out there,” he mumbles without glancing my way.
Oh shit. He’s going to make it awkward. He can’t even look me in the eye.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” I ask. “I would’ve come running with you.”
He shrugs. “Figured I’d let you sleep in.” He kicks off his shoes and socks, then strips out of his shorts.
Now he’s naked. And I’m even harder.
He’s still averting his gaze, so he has no idea I’m admiring his lean, sculpted muscles and the black ink winding around his heavy biceps. I realize this is the first time I’ve seen him naked in the light of day, and his skin gleams in the sunlight peeking through the curtains. He’s all muscle. All man.
And all those questions I’d asked myself last night—Am I really attracted to him? Would I like it if we hooked up? Am I totally crazy?—I know the answers to them now. Yes, yes, and maybe.
But I didn’t expect to wake up with more questions.
I slide out of bed and notice he’s making an even greater effort not to look at me now. Because…yep, I’m naked, too. We’d fallen asleep naked. In each other’s arms.
His back is to me as he stalks over to the dresser.
“Wes,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t react. He grabs a pair of blue gym shorts from the top drawer and tugs them up to his hips.
“Wes.”
His shoulders tense. Very slowly, he turns around, and his gray eyes focus on my face. There’s an unspoken question flickering there—what now?
Fuck if I know.
What I do know? I’m not equipped to have this conversation right now. Not until I’ve given it some thought and figured out what I want from this. From him.
So I put on a careless tone and ask, “What are we doing today?”
He’s silent for a beat. I can tell he expected me to go all chick on him and demand we talk about last night. I can also tell he’s relieved I decided to choose the dude route and ignore it.
His lips quirk slightly. “Well, we need to get some food in you and then hike over to the soccer field. The kids came back from the fishing hole already because nothing was biting except the mosquitoes. So Pat’s organizing a game.”
And just like that, we’re cool again. Sure, we’re pretending we didn’t blow the shit out of each other last night, but for now, I’m happy to pretend. I’m not ready to deal with this yet.
I wrinkle my forehead. “For the kids?”
“Nope, the coaches. But a bunch of the boys are already there taking bets on which team will win.”
