immense windows, bare boards just waiting for a bit of sanding and some wax.
The five years of repression and hidden feelings are probably just making the room seem smaller.
‘That nice?’ Tyler says, as innocent as a new lamb in spring. It’s really not his fault that I read the words differently, and end up thinking about the conversation I’ve just had. Or maybe the night before, when he’d said very similar words about something else altogether.
‘The shower? Yeah, it was great.’
Here would be a perfect time to tell them I need to get going. All I have to do is mention something more plausible than dry cleaning: a dog I need to take care of, or some work-related business that requires my attention. Even though I’m a librarian and I don’t have a dog, and most of all:
I don’t want to. I don’t want to.
I just want to hold my breath, and wait to see what Tyler says next.
‘So did you tell Bran you overheard? Or is this the first anyone’s hearing about it?’
OK, I did not expect
that
to be the thing he said next. I honestly didn’t. At the very least I thought he was going to sort of … ease us into further discussion. Maybe ask a question or two about what we’d talked over, in his absence, or offer me some more of those amazing bagels.
Not this. This puts both me and Bran on edge immediately.
‘We talked about … some stuff,’ I say, carefully. Then, when the ground in front of me seems safe, I carry on. ‘Bran mentioned that you guys … uh … used to talk about me. Sometimes.’
The corner of Tyler’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t smile. No, he just let’s all of his amusement show in those sultry eyes of his, as he leans back in a chair that’s far too small for him. He almost looks like a giant who found this furniture down the beanstalk, and the clothes he’s wearing don’t help: a V-necked T-shirt that somehow shows a huge amount of chest hair, the material stretched taut over his solid chest; sweatpants that look suspiciously like the ones Brandon is wearing, only on Tyler they’re low and tight around the ass and kind of obscene, if I’m being really honest.
Did he go out like that? And, if so, did a lot of people stare at the thick outline of his cock – the one that can be clearly seen along the length of his thigh? Because, God knows, I would stare, if I was out and about and that thing was coming towards me.
‘Did he really? Well. I’m almost proud,’ he says, and I think Brandon gets close to punching him. Only that voice saves his hide – syrup-thick and absolutely delicious. It turns Brandon’s face red, even as he spreads his hands over the table and tries to keep things calm.
‘I just explained to Maisie that we weren’t trying to be assholes. That we liked her, and occasionally had … conversations about … about –’
‘Doing her?’
‘Ty!’ Brandon protests, and when he does he slaps a hand down on the table, too – just for emphasis. No means no, and all that. You’re crossing a line, stop.
But Tyler doesn’t stop. Far from it, in fact. ‘Though the word “doing” doesn’t really encompass everything, don’t you think? I mean, we talked about licking her ass and having her blow us both at the same time … what was your favourite, again? Oh yeah. The shower.’
‘Don’t tell her about the shower,’ Brandon says, his glare so intense I’m only surprised it doesn’t set Tyler on fire. And if his eyes don’t do it then his voice sure should, because his voice has dropped so low I’m expecting an exorcist to show up at any moment.
But again, Tyler doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. ‘So, basically, we’d be in those communal showers outside the college pool – you know the ones?’
I nod as though I’m on strings.
‘And maybe … I don’t know, things get a little heated.’
Oh my God, oh my God. He’s saying what I think he’s saying, right? And if he’s not saying that, then why is Brandon having some
The five years of repression and hidden feelings are probably just making the room seem smaller.
‘That nice?’ Tyler says, as innocent as a new lamb in spring. It’s really not his fault that I read the words differently, and end up thinking about the conversation I’ve just had. Or maybe the night before, when he’d said very similar words about something else altogether.
‘The shower? Yeah, it was great.’
Here would be a perfect time to tell them I need to get going. All I have to do is mention something more plausible than dry cleaning: a dog I need to take care of, or some work-related business that requires my attention. Even though I’m a librarian and I don’t have a dog, and most of all:
I don’t want to. I don’t want to.
I just want to hold my breath, and wait to see what Tyler says next.
‘So did you tell Bran you overheard? Or is this the first anyone’s hearing about it?’
OK, I did not expect
that
to be the thing he said next. I honestly didn’t. At the very least I thought he was going to sort of … ease us into further discussion. Maybe ask a question or two about what we’d talked over, in his absence, or offer me some more of those amazing bagels.
Not this. This puts both me and Bran on edge immediately.
‘We talked about … some stuff,’ I say, carefully. Then, when the ground in front of me seems safe, I carry on. ‘Bran mentioned that you guys … uh … used to talk about me. Sometimes.’
The corner of Tyler’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t smile. No, he just let’s all of his amusement show in those sultry eyes of his, as he leans back in a chair that’s far too small for him. He almost looks like a giant who found this furniture down the beanstalk, and the clothes he’s wearing don’t help: a V-necked T-shirt that somehow shows a huge amount of chest hair, the material stretched taut over his solid chest; sweatpants that look suspiciously like the ones Brandon is wearing, only on Tyler they’re low and tight around the ass and kind of obscene, if I’m being really honest.
Did he go out like that? And, if so, did a lot of people stare at the thick outline of his cock – the one that can be clearly seen along the length of his thigh? Because, God knows, I would stare, if I was out and about and that thing was coming towards me.
‘Did he really? Well. I’m almost proud,’ he says, and I think Brandon gets close to punching him. Only that voice saves his hide – syrup-thick and absolutely delicious. It turns Brandon’s face red, even as he spreads his hands over the table and tries to keep things calm.
‘I just explained to Maisie that we weren’t trying to be assholes. That we liked her, and occasionally had … conversations about … about –’
‘Doing her?’
‘Ty!’ Brandon protests, and when he does he slaps a hand down on the table, too – just for emphasis. No means no, and all that. You’re crossing a line, stop.
But Tyler doesn’t stop. Far from it, in fact. ‘Though the word “doing” doesn’t really encompass everything, don’t you think? I mean, we talked about licking her ass and having her blow us both at the same time … what was your favourite, again? Oh yeah. The shower.’
‘Don’t tell her about the shower,’ Brandon says, his glare so intense I’m only surprised it doesn’t set Tyler on fire. And if his eyes don’t do it then his voice sure should, because his voice has dropped so low I’m expecting an exorcist to show up at any moment.
But again, Tyler doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. ‘So, basically, we’d be in those communal showers outside the college pool – you know the ones?’
I nod as though I’m on strings.
‘And maybe … I don’t know, things get a little heated.’
Oh my God, oh my God. He’s saying what I think he’s saying, right? And if he’s not saying that, then why is Brandon having some
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