Page 48 of Faking It Right
Sawyer seemed amused by my predicament. “Sounds like you’ve got it bad.”
“But what if I’m confused?” I asked, voicing my deepest fear. “What if this is some weird phase or curious experiment for me? Harley has genuine feelings for me, and has for years, apparently. What if I hurt him?”
She tilted her head, studying me. There was something in my tone that made her narrow her eyes. “Wait a minute.” Realization dawned on her. “Have you two been fooling around?”
My cheeks burned hotter than Satan’s taint as I developed an instant fascination with the floor tiles, silently begging them to rearrange into an escape hatch directly to my grave.
“Oh my god, you have!” Sawyer’s voice rose with delight.
“Shh!” I hissed, shooting a glance toward the living room. “Keep it down!”
“Have you only been making out? Doing hand stuff? Has his dick been in your mouth yet?”
“Fucking hell, Sawyer!” If shame could kill, the coroner would already be measuring me for a body bag and listing “acute humiliation” as the cause of death. “And no.”
“Your dick’s definitely been in his, though.” She cackled as I cringed, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “And? Are you enjoying it?”
I buried my face in my hands, wishing for death. “We’re not having this conversation.”
“Oh, come on. It’s me you’re talking to.” She nudged my shoulder. “Is it good?”
I dropped my hands with a defeated sigh. “It’s better than I expected. Like, way better. The things he can do with his mouth…” I trailed off, memories of our shower blow job flooding back. “It puts all my ex-girlfriends to shame.”
“That good, huh?” Sawyer looked impressed.
“I never thought I’d be into this stuff, but I’m starting to crave it.” The admission felt both terrifying and liberating. “Every time he touches me, my brain function degrades to the level of a concussed goldfish trying to solve a Rubik’s cube.”
Sawyer’s teasing expression softened, the mockery fading into genuine interest. “That’s really sweet, Ryker. If it makes you feel better, I’ve seen how Harley looks at you. It’s real for him, too.”
“Yeah, but that’s what scares me. What if I’m only experimenting and he’s all in? I don’t want to break his heart.”
“Have you told him how you feel?”
I looked down in embarrassment. “I can barely admit it to myself, let alone to him.”
“Maybe you should,” she suggested. “Harley’s a big boy. He knows what he’s getting into.”
“Does he?” I challenged. “Because I sure as hell don’t. Is this a weird phase, or have I been shoving this part of myself into a closet my whole life? What if I wake up tomorrow and decide I’m straight again?”
“Is that what you’re afraid of? That these feelings aren’t real?”
I considered her question. “No, I’m more afraid that they are real. Because if they are, does that make me bi? I’ve never thought about another guy like this. I don’t think I qualify.”
“Being bisexual doesn’t mean your interest in genders is a fifty-fifty split. Even if the only man you’re interested in is Harley, your bisexuality is still valid,” Sawyer explained. “Or maybe you don’t need a label.”
She was right. No one was handing out a pop quiz on my sexual identity. Maybe it was enough to know that whatever I felt for Harley was genuine, even if I couldn’t define it.
“What are you going to do?” Sawyer asked.
“Take it one day at a time, I guess. See what happens.”
“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I think you two are good together. Fake relationship or not.”
I managed a small smile. “Thanks.”
“And hey,” she added with the predatory glee of someone who just found ammunition for years of future teasing, “if he’s as talented as he is pretty, your brain will be too busy processing pleasure to remember how to overthink. Or speak in complete sentences. Or walk straight. Or be straight, for that matter.”
I threw my hands up in frustration, flailing like a man drowning in his own confusion. “What the hell am I supposed to do, Sawyer? This wasn’t part of the plan. It was supposed to be all about bringing Harley home, pretending to date, dodging Mom’s matchmaking, and getting back to normal. Now, everything’s…” I gestured wildly, unable to find the right words.
