Page 18 of Full Split
Does he think I'm a child? Or incapable of looking after myself?
He frowns. "Niles?—"
"It was just more of the usual, okay? Wanted to know what my bulge was made of. Nothing new or creative."
Diverting my eyes to the sidewalk in front of us, I stew in my discomfort. Trying not to think about his breath or the chill that ran down my spine. My dinner churns in my stomach.
"You're lying."
"What?"
He stops walking and faces me. "I've known you most of your life, Niles. I can tell when you're upset. And whatever he said to you today bothered you more than you're letting on."
Jaw tight, eyes aching from how hard I've been glaring at the ground, I shift my gaze to his. My voice drops angrily.
“Fine. You want to know so bad? He wanted to know if I take it up the ass. You know, like areal mandoes. Then made some fun guesses about my junk," I say pointedly. He doesn't need to know every little detail about how he said the words and how they made me feel oily and gross.
Wyatt's face goes red. Almost purple. His jaw clenches so hard I can hear his teeth grinding. His fingers flex before he balls his hands into fists at his side.
I'm embarrassed. And angry. Angry that assholes like Peter think they can get away with talking to me like that, angry that I'm embarrassed about it. Angrier still that Wyatt can tell.
So I lash out by pushing. By making him feel as uncomfortable as I do right now.
"What's wrong, Wyatt? Don't you want to know the answer?"
"No," he croaks.
I make a tsking sound like I don't believe him. "Why not? Afraid you won't like the answer?" My voice is lower than usual and purposefully menacing. "Tell me, Wyatt. What about you? You ever taken a dick?"
"No."
"Ever been with a man?"
Silence.Interesting…
"Did you like it?"
He swallows hard. "I don't know."
I roll my eyes. "You don't know?"
"It's not… You don't understand?—"
"Don't you dare say it. Don't you fucking dare,” I spit angrily, not wanting to hear him tell me I’m too young or some such bullshit. “Do you see me as a man or not?"
Wyatt's mouth drops open. Shuts again. His eyes look pained. "Of course I see you as a man. I see you as you are, Niles."
"Not because I'm trans, Wyatt. That's not what I mean. What I mean is, do you see me,right now, as I am? Not a kid you used tocoach. Not Weston's best friend. Not someone fragile you think you need to protect." I pause for a moment, then repeat the question, drawing the words out pointedly. "Do you see me asa man?"
He hesitates. "Yes. And I'm trying to accept it. But it's hard."
A dangerous urge to push him to the brink rushes through my veins. I take a step closer. Then another. I look down, then slowly drag my eyes up his body.
"How hard?"
His pupils dilate. His mouth gapes open like a fish. He looks unraveled. Completely terrified, too.
I should back off. I've taken this far enough, and none of this is his fault. I have a bad habit of lashing out when I’m feeling emotional, like him thinking I’m an asshole is better than him seeing me cry. He wouldn’t be put off by it, hell, Weston cries at commercials.
