Page 51 of A Stealthy Situation

It was around 2:00 a.m. before I texted him good night with a kissy face, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to see his reply.

As soon as it’s open, I snort back a laugh.

The middle finger emoji. Benny translation: multiple hearts.

My arms flop out to either side, and I stare at the ceiling with the dumbest smile on my face. All week on campus, instead of walking around with my head in the leaves, I’ve been paying attention to people. More specifically, men.

And I’m still no closer to working out my sexuality.

There are plenty of good-looking men. Pretty men. Sporty men. I notice them, and there’s vague attraction, but I don’t have the urge to go up to them and hit on them. Surprisingly though, I don’t have it with a lot of women either.

I can’t help but notice a pattern. If I’m approached by a woman who’s attractive, I’ll usually end up sleeping with her. If I do the approaching, they’re usually someone I’m at least friendly with, who I like as a person, rather than just a pair of tits.

Is that what’s happening here? I’m attracted to Benny because of who he is, not because he has a dick?

At the end of the day, it just doesn’t bother me that much.

It’d be nice to put a label on things to help explain who I am to others, but for me? I’m into Benny. My brain and my body are both in agreement with that, so now the most pressing thing is figuring out what to do about it.

He’s only ever mentioned wanting to hook up, and I’d be down for some repeats if that’s on the table, but I don’t even know if I have that. It’s like our hand jobs never happened, and I love having the time to think things through, but I’m starting to feel a bit gross about it all.

Like I used him.

It’s not what happened, but pretending like this great mental rearrangement didn’t change my life is childish, and I hate that we can’t talk about it.

Marshall’s my best friend, but he doesn’t see sex the same way I do. Felix … he has been used by other people, but he put himself in those situations, so trying to talk to him about something like this is delicate.

I put a pin in it all and get ready for class.

I’m not as excited for statistics as I have been the last few times. Sure, I always like spending time with Benny, but he’s a different guy in class. He concentrates really hard, makes notes all over paper, and types so intently I’m scared to say anything and have him lose his train of thought. He also usually has to run off right after, so while it’s great just to be near him—okay and checking him out—I don’t get that dose of fluttery nerves I usually get when we spend time together.

It’s the same today. Benny concentrating. Me trying to pay attention. Him running right off afterward.

It’s starting to get weird.

As I’m walking across campus, I have to send him a message to reassure myself it’s his usual class standoffishness and that he’s not actually going cold on me.

Me:

What are you doing?

Benny:

Just at the house, should be studying, but really don’t want to.

Jesus, he flew back to his place fast.

Me:

Well, I won’t be a bad influence right now, but can I kidnap you tonight?

Benny:

I don’t think you’re supposed to ask when you kidnap someone. It’s way hotter to be caught by surprise.

Me:

He likes fear. Noted.

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