Top Secret

by Sarina Bowen

If letting your fraternity brother touch your cock is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.

Which is ridiculous. I have never felt less in control than I do right now. And I love that so much.

But I suspect Judd’s bluffing. And I’m feeling cocky tonight. Nah, I’ve been feeling cocky ever since I fooled around with Keaton.

It freaked me out that you’re a guy. And that I let you take the lead. Part of me wants to forget it happened. Most of me wants you to do it again.

If Keaton has been screwing the same girl since they were both teenagers, I suppose my bossy ass would be kind of educational. Ask me nicely, I’d demanded. Please, suck it, he’d said.

Fuck me. I’m single, I’m a little depressed, and I’m very horny, with a side of sexual confusion, too.

Goodbye, sexual confusion. Because confused is the last thing I’m feeling at the moment. There’s no other way around it—I like dudes. Especially that one onstage.

My poor little brain is just doing that math when Bailey leaps through the air like a sideways Superman, arms first, catching the pole in both hands.

“With this song. Are you threatening me right now?” He sits up partway, leaning on one muscular arm. “Do I look like a fucking threat?” He drops a hand to his hard cock and strokes it. “Get over here.” Blood pounds in my…everything. But it’s unclear whether I’m feeling more anger or arousal. Yeah, a naked Keaton is a beautiful thing.

“Who cares, anyway? You’re like sexy Spiderman, and all the ladies were screaming for you.”

“I have condoms and lube.” “Seriously?” A wave of heat rolls through my body. “You want me to top you?” “Yeah, I do. And quickly.” He bends one knee, the invitation unmistakable. “Before we both figure out how awkward this will get later.” He’s not wrong. And maybe if it wasn’t two in the morning, and I wasn’t hard as a crowbar I would make a different call.

I want to flip him over and drill him hard, but I don’t do that. This is his first time, so I opt for a slow approach, stroking my hands over his body as we kiss.

I lose my rhythm as I come helplessly, emptying my whole soul into his tight body

Luke’s brother is clearly a turd with anger issues. I can’t even think of a funny animal comparison to cheer Luke up. There’s no animal kingdom model for self-destructive behavior. Sometimes animals are a whole lot smarter than humans.

But I don’t feel calm. My dad is an asshole, but he’s trying to give me shit. Luke’s family are assholes who only want to bleed him dry.

This thing with Luke is confusing. I’m wildly attracted to him and I want to have more sex—that much I know. But anything else, whether it’s friendship or something more...I have no fucking clue about.

And although I’m pleased that Bailey accepted my help, I find it incredibly telling that he only agreed to it when he thought I was using him. Someone helping him from the goodness of their heart is completely inconceivable to him, and damned if that isn’t one of the saddest things I’ve ever encountered.

“I’d love the eggs Benedict,” I say, passing over my menu. Mr. Hayworth laughs, and I have no idea why. “That’s what Annika gets,” he says.

He struts away from the table, and my eyes follow him, because I feel reckless and it’s just dawning on me that I have a confidence fetish.

He must have slipped a credit card to the waiter when he went to the men’s room. Sneaky.

“You’re probably sore anyway.” “So?” Athletes don’t complain about pain.

We probably don’t have time to fuck right now, but just the suggestion makes me harder. There’s no denying how much I like it. My prostate is my new best friend.

His rules. The rules I’ve been following for more than two months now. Don’t get me wrong, I love it when he bosses me around in bed. It turns me on something fierce. But his my-way-or-no-way temperament extends beyond the bedroom, and for some reason I’m beginning to resent that.

“What else do you do for fun? Income taxes? Oral surgery?” “Riiiight,” he says slowly. “Oral surgery. How’d you guess?”

He groans happily. “You are my favorite person in the whole fucking world.” It might even be true. I just hope it’s enough for my greedy little heart.

And clearly Hayworth is catching feelings. I see the way he looks at me. It’s an unsettling combination of fascination, tenderness, and frustration.

“We’re going out to dinner,” he says as he pulls away from the curb. “I’m kidnapping you, because I want a steak.” A knee-jerk spike of anger makes me lean back against the leather upholstery and close my eyes. Miraculously, I don’t say anything rude. In fact, I don’t say anything at all. I take a deep breath. “You’re a good friend, Keaton.” He knows I’m having a financial crisis. He’s managed not to offer me money, either. Which I really appreciate.

“What else did you plan? What exactly are we doing this weekend, along with boning on that huge bed.” He gestures vaguely to the California king. I meet his eyes. “Tonight we’re having steaks at the hotel restaurant. Tomorrow afternoon we’re going to a craft beer festival in Mystic.” He nods slowly. “Okay. And?” He knows me well. “Uh, Sam Smith is playing at Mohegan Sun. I got us tickets,” I mumble.

As Annika can attest, I tend to get carried away when it comes to special occasions. I mean, I arranged a threesome for her birthday, for fuck’s sake. And for her birthday last year, I took her to Paris.

“I’m not pissed, because do you realize that the last time anybody remembered my birthday, let alone celebrated it, was back in high school?”

“I can’t believe you did this.” “But you’re not pissed,” I hedge. “Not much. I’m fucking touched, okay? Even if I want to punch you for making me feel this way—hey! Wipe that grin off your face! This isn’t funny.”

“You are the most sex-starved person I’ve ever met,” he mutters against my greedy mouth. “You love it,” I mumble back.

“Yeah, fourth gear has lots of torque,” Luke agrees, downshifting to make a lane change just for fun. “And it feels like fifth is just for cruising.” “Uh-huh.” The sun is warm on my face, so I close my eyes. “I’ve never dated anyone who wanted to discuss my manual transmission before.” I realize my mistake the second I make it. “You know what I mean,” I mumble.

Before, though, I might be admiring a guy at the squat rack thinking, nice form. These days I just think...nice.

“He turned you,” Judd says. “So he could take the frat presidency. He flipped the straight guy. You’re a big notch in his belt, right? Did he ask you for money, too?” “FUCK you!” I shout, getting to my feet. “Nah, I don’t swing that way,” Judd snaps. “No matter how good the blowjobs are. Did he teach you that, too?” And that’s when I lunge for him.

My fancy lawyer—my new favorite person—is hissing at another man at the side of the room. “This is an ACD,” Grant says. “Looks bad if you lock up a college kid before exams, whose only crime is sharing DNA with a turd you already convicted.”

“ACD means Adjournment in Contemplation of Dismissal.”

“And I’m not talking about money. That’s beyond your control. When it comes to love, you’re a fucking miser. Like it would kill you to admit that you care.”

And Dan Zimmer quite awkwardly offered his ear if I had any questions for him. “I could teach you the secret handshake,” he’d joked.

“Swear to God, can’t you just be gay? Do you have to be an academic, too? It’s like a dagger through the heart.”

But if we’re all being honest right now, your mother and I did notice that your relationship seemed to lack passion.” Mom sighs. “We did notice.” I have to smile. “And you couldn’t have filled me in on that?”

I guess I won’t point out that my father just compared my sexuality to a drug addiction. You have to pick your battles.

Things are looking up. And let’s face it, everything wrong in my life falls into the category of First World problems.

For now, I’m giving you the space you so obviously need. But I have one request. Just one, and I promise it’s not insanely unreasonable. Don’t unmatch me on Kink. Love, KHIII

And I learned that the waters where his expedition would travel have, according to National Geographic, “the worst weather in the world.” Honestly, that scared me almost as much as a night in jail.

Mr. Hayworth puts a hand on my shoulder. “Thanks for showing me the photo.” “Anytime, sir.” Depending on the photo.

You take care. Keep the photos coming. Even if I’m hopeless at relationships I still look forward to every one of them.

And if I don’t cut them out completely, I’ll spend the next twenty-one years waiting for some kind of epiphany that never comes. We’re sorry. We love you. It’s embarrassing how much I want to hear that. And never will.

He’s also fluent in four languages, and he’s been teaching me the dirtiest phrases. Luke would love him.

So why should I be the one to fight for us? And is there even a point in fighting for someone who doesn’t want to love you?