Him (Him, #1)

by Sarina Bowen

His cheeks hollow, jaw working as if he’s grinding his molars to dust. “No. I mean, shit. You’re right. We’re not married.” He mumbles something I can’t make out. “What?” “I said…not yet, anyway.”

Set her free!!!

“No,” he says quickly. Then he lowers his voice again. “But she keeps saying how she wants me to propose.”

Break up with her and stop wasting each others time

My weakness is him.

Gayyyyy

“Loser gives the winner a blowjob,” he said just as I swung.

The fact that he’d been the first guy I ever loved and the one who made me face some terrifying things about myself…well, all that will go unsaid.

He looks the same. And different. He looks both different and the same.

both of these were unnessary

Aw shit. I don’t know why I said that. And the flash of heat that travels down to my dick is equally perplexing.

It was easily the hottest sexual experience eighteen-year-old Jamie Canning had ever had. But remembering it always confuses me, because I associate it with getting banished from the friendship I valued most.

Shen smirks. “Sorry.” “Fucking chink,” Killfeather swears. “Faggot,” Shen returns.

Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Yall better fucking chill out!!

The way I’m dying to rip your clothes off and get inside you.

You. “Ah, I’m not picky.”

Said a picky bitch

“So you like ’em big.” A broad grin fills his face as he winks at me. “So to speak.”

I like em chunky, I like em round

“Checking out Brandr. Pretty entertaining in a small town.”

lol grinder

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence, because I’m smashing my mouth against his.

At the end of the day, I’m still gay—and he’s still straight. Even worse, I’m still in love with him.

“Your tongue ring…” His voice is hoarse with excitement. “I want to feel it on my cock.”

Said the straight guy

Well, Pat, I just threw myself at him. We made out like porn stars up against the side of a bar. Then he gave me the brush-off. And I don’t have any idea what any of it means.

It’s not an exaggeration to say I’ve always felt a little more alive when he’s around. Life is just a little brighter, a little louder wherever Wes is.

Pushing my hips into the mattress, I wish I could feel it again—the press of his body. The scrape of rough hands on my forearms. I don’t know why I want it.

Cause gay

Fuck me. I’m a strong guy. I’m a tough guy. But I was not built to withstand the sight of Jamie Canning stroking himself.

Whipped

Earlier tonight I was telling him the truth when I said I didn’t want to help him make this discovery. I’m not sure I’d survive it.

“No.” He sighs in contentment. “Night, Wes.” A lump rises in my throat. “Night, Canning.”

I don’t need to involve Wes in my confusion.

Babes too late but also he should have said that he was practically in love with you so 🤷🏽‍♀️

But I do. Because even if I’m not freaking out about what we did last night, I don’t want anyone else to know. If Wes was a girl, I wouldn’t care, though. And why is that, exactly?

That’s on internalized homophobia ✨

“Yeah,” he says. Then he knocks my hand away. “But cut that out, or I won’t be able to get out of the water.” I obey immediately.

He shrugs. “We both like you.” Fuck yeah.

Not sure if it’s that kind of like

I love you. The words are always right there on the tip of my naughty tongue. I swallow them back like I need to and say something much more practical instead.

Jamie Canning has no idea the kind of power he has over me.

But my ass was never part of the deal.

Yet..a threat

God, when I go gay, I really go gay.

You don’t say 😀

His laughter sends my heart soaring.

“You’re a bossy bastard, Canning.” His lips tickle the head of my cock. “I fucking love it.” And I love what he’s doing to me.

A hot rush travels up my spine. I’m stunned to realize it’s jealousy.

Gasp!

Wes nods. “I’d let you do anything to me, Canning.”

Saying I love you with out saying it

Friends. We’re friends. Except that doesn’t feel like the right label. Friends with benefits? Doesn’t feel right, either.

Gays ✨

“Want you,” I whisper. Lately, those two words define me. “Have me,” he says.

Now I’m grinning in the dark. I hold him as close as I dare. Even if my entire life goes to shit before breakfast tomorrow, I’ll always have this night.

I set my jaw. “What, for daring to call you out on the fact that you’re still into women?”

Ah this must be it. Bi people exist so yeah but he’s drunk and hurt

Jamie sighs, his expression flickering with resignation. “I don’t like the idea of you messing around with anyone else.” I swallow my surprise. “Right back atcha, babe.”

I feel sicker knowing I’m competing with not one, but two gender pools for his affection.

“Do you think someone in Toronto might need a defensive coach?”

Because it’s Wes. He’s not scary. And the things we do in bed are just plain hot.

Like I’ve shrugged on someone else’s costume and I’m playing a role.

“You are goddamn addictive, Wes.”

“Gonna fuck you one of these days,” he whispers.

“You need to shut up, Canning. Otherwise I’ll do you right now. Bend you over that log over there and take what’s mine.”

I could get used to this. I really could. After a bit, Wes slaps me on the ass. “Up, baby. We can’t stay here forever.” I hate the way that sounds, but it’s hard to argue the truth. So I peel my satisfied body off his, and we begin the ridiculous process of trying to clean up in a confined space without further injury. We manage, but just barely.

but I at least thought the time we’ve had together has meant something to him. Because it means something to me. I’m not sure what, or why, but I do know that this isn’t just about sex for me.

The miscommunication trope is troping

“Fucking faggots,” he mutters under his breath as we walk by.

Kill him

Pat’s jaw hardens until it resembles a granite block. “You’ll need to follow me, sir. If you’re going to slander my NHL-bound coaching staff, you can do it in the privacy of my office.” He turns around and disappears into the building.

That’s right Pat! Fuck him up!