the rub of his stubble against my face.
Fuck, I never wanted the kiss to end. I wondered if I could live there, in that moment, with Remington’s lips on mine. It didn’t matter that he was a guy. It didn’t matter how new this was for me.
But then, this likely wasn’t anything new for him. Maybe he kissed guys the way I’d kissed girls my whole life.
When he pulled away, I instantly wanted to tug him back.
“If a plant is sad, do other plants photosympathise with it?” he asked, out of the blue. Was that it? Did he tell corny jokes when he was nervous?
I smiled. “I’ve never…” I began, but couldn’t finish the sentence. Raising my hand, I touched my lips like I could feel his kiss against my fingers.
“Me either.”
“You haven’t?” Holy shit. I hadn’t expected that.
“I mean, I’ve known I’m into guys. I’ve sure as hell wanted to kiss a lot of them, but I never have. It’s not something that would go over well where I’m from. Plus, it’s not like I’m real good with people. I wasn’t in school, so I didn’t have a lot of friends—and now I’m rambling.”
I didn’t know if he meant at home or in town or what. “Oh,” I replied, a little disappointed that I wasn’t the only guy he’d wanted to kiss. “I didn’t…know.” Though if I were honest, I’d admit there had been signs. I loved women, fuck, I loved women, but I’d looked at guys, noticed guys too. I just told myself I didn’t. There was this kid, younger than me, who went to my high school back home—Kellan. People gave him shit for being gay all the time, even though I didn’t even know if he was.
“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to push myself on you or anything.”
My eyes snapped to his. “What? No. I was the one who kissed you. And it was fucking hot. I really liked it.” Then I was leaning in and kissing him again. My dick got hard, and he grabbed my hair, and holy fuck did I like kissing Remington. Maybe more than anyone I’d ever kissed before.
We pulled away again, and then…his hand was on the bench between us. I scooted mine closer, he did the same, and we locked fingers and held hands.
And talked.
All night.
We watched the sun rise, and I wondered if this one was better than the one he’d sung about.
“I should go,” Remington finally said.
“Yeah, me too. I have class in a few hours.”
He let go of me and stood, his eyes avoiding me. Was this goodbye? I didn’t want it to be. We’d just met, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to date him and have a boyfriend and shit like that—hell, I didn’t know if he did either—but I knew I didn’t want this to be goodbye. “Can I have your number?”
He looked at me…and frowned. Totally not the response I was looking for. But then he said, “You’d want it?”
“I want to see you again.”
“I don’t…I don’t know if this is something I’m ready to do again. I didn’t expect it. You’re really hot, maybe the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen, and I’m just…me, but…I’m not out, and I want music. More than anything, I want to be a musician, and I don’t know how it will go if I’m…with a dude. If that’s even what you want? Music and my family are everything to me.”
His answer made me want him more. Here was this guy who didn’t realize how fucking incredible he was. Who didn’t see how strong he was, how alive and passionate, and how he’d turned my world upside down in one night. And he wanted to see me again. I could feel it. But he was worried about his family and his art.
And I felt like it might kill me if I didn’t see him again, because he was so different. So totally and completely himself and honest. “Well, I’m not saying I want to hit up pride marches and tell everyone I have a boyfriend, or hell, that I even want one. I’m not ready for all that shit either, but I…” I wanted him. I wanted him in this stupid way that was embarrassing and unsettling.
“Okay,” he said, and I wasn’t sure exactly what he was answering, but he gave me his cell number and I gave him mine. We walked to his car so I could get my backpack, and then we said goodbye.
CHAPTER