Page 98 of The Revenge Game
“I’ll message you later,” Drew says, his voice soft. There’s something in his expression I can’t read.
Screw it. I’m not going to leave without saying a proper goodbye. I lean in and kiss him, keeping it brief but pouring everything I feel into it. When I pull back, Drew’s eyes are wide.
“Bye, Leo. Good to meet you,” I call over my shoulder as I head out.
“It was interesting to meet you too,” Leo replies.
When I’m back in my apartment, I lean against my door and touch my lips. My cats appear, but I barely notice them. All I can think about is Drew. How right it feels to be with him, how much I want to keep kissing him, touching him, being with him.
And that’s the terrifying thing, isn’t it? Because Drew and I are supposed to just be doing the casual thing, but it feels anything but casual to me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Andrew
Leo’s expression reminds me of the time I accidentally deployed untested code to our production servers at NovaCore.
“So that was Justin Morris,” he says flatly. “Justin Morris, your high school bully, who you were plotting revenge against. The same Justin Morris you apparently just had shower sex with.”
I clutch my towel tighter, suddenly very aware I’m having this conversation practically naked. The physical evidence of what Justin and I have been doing for the past week is written all over me—the mark on my collarbone from his mouth, the slight ache in my muscles that reminds me how thoroughly he took me apart this morning.
“It’s fucked up. What the hell are you thinking, sleeping with him?”
“I was thinking he’s hot, and I wanted to get laid.” The words are crude, and unfortunately, Leo knows me well enough that he’s not having any of it. He fixes his dark eyes on me with his signature cut-the-crap look, the one that made even Silicon Valley’s most aggressive investors squirm in their chairs.
And it appears it still works because words suddenly spill from my mouth. “I like him, okay? I don’t know how, giveneverything he did to me, and I hated the high school version of Justin, but that’s not who he is anymore!”
My voice cracks on the last word. Because how do I describe the way my heart races every time Justin sends me a message or how seeing him light up when I walk into a room makes me feel like I’m finally worth something?
“He probably bullied you in part because he was scared of being gay himself,” Leo says.
“I know. I know that! And I don’t know if it makes it better or worse… It just means I understand it.” I’m breathing rapidly as I rake my hand through my hair. “And he had crap going on at home, some serious crap, and I can totally see how it led to what he did to me in high school. But he’s not like that anymore. He’s actually the sweetest guy. He’s really caring and?—”
“What’s your end goal here?” Leo interrupts.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you guys are hooking up. Where’s it going to lead?”
I sink onto my couch, the leather cool against my bare legs. My mind floods with memories of this past week. Justin’s gentle hands on my skin, how he always holds me after sex like I’m something precious.
“Because, eventually, he’s going to find out who you are, you know that, right? If you keep this up, he’s going to work it out,” Leo continues.
“No, he won’t.” I meet Leo’s eyes defiantly.
Leo’s forehead furrows, but I don’t stop talking.
“I’m the first guy he’s been with. I just want to help him… Help him feel more comfortable in his sexuality.”
Leo drags his hand down his face like he’s trying to wipe away what I’ve just said. He paces my living room, each turn getting shorter and more agitated until he spins back to face me with such force that my coffee table inches backward.
“I was wrong before. This is not fucked up. It’s beyond fucked up. Like so far beyond, we passed fucked up fifty miles ago. You can’t be some kind of sex therapist to your high school bully, Andrew.”
“I’m not pretending to be a therapist. But you’ve seen what he looks like, right? Can you imagine the types of guys who’ll target him on hookup apps? Or if he goes to a gay bar? He deserves his first experiences to be with someone who knows him as a person, who sees past what he looks like.”
Leo raises a skeptical eyebrow. “And you’ve decided to take one for the team? Expand the sexual horizons of the gorgeous baby gay?”
“You don’t get it. He’s not—” The words catch in my throat as I remember Justin’s vulnerability when he told me about his stepfather, about living in constant fear of not being man enough. “He’s been hurt badly in the past. He’s—” I can’t finish the sentence.
