Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Yeah…”
What in the hell? He was crawling out of his skin as he waited for Emerson to get his thoughts together.
“There was this one night when I showed up at Sneaky Pete’s, not realizing you’d be there. I was sort of exploring stuff about myself.”
“Sneaky Pete’s?” Rhys swallowed roughly. It was a club he’d gone to a handful of times, mostly with his friend Lance, who loved the music and the vibe. His head swam like he was floating in another gravitational dimension. “And how did I take it?”
Emerson looked away, but not before he saw his entire face flushing. It was obviously a hard conversation for him. “You were surprised and supportive.”
That made sense. At least he could be sure of himself in that regard. “I’ve only ever wanted the best for you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Silence again. Harsh breaths. The air around them crackled with a strange sort of tension.
“There’s something you’re not saying, Em. I know you. At least I always thought I did.”
“See? This is why I didn’t want… This might be too much for you.”
“Don’t treat me like I’m frail, or I’m gonna scream,” he bit out, and he could feel his face heating up.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just…they told us to not overwhelm you with details. That you needed to seek answers yourself.”
“Well, here I am, searching for the truth,” he pointed out.
Emerson nodded and swallowed roughly. “I’m pretty sure I’m demisexual,” he said in a soft voice, and Rhys racked his brain for the definition. He hadn’t heard it in so long. Or, well, not since he lost a whole year. Now he wondered how many other terms people had come up with to describe their sexuality. He would bet plenty.
“Okay, wow,” Rhys replied, hoping to encourage him. “Can you explain?”
“It might be why I’ve only dated people I’ve gotten to know first. Like Morgan in high school after we’d become friends, remember?”
Rhys nodded, trying to keep up.
“So I guess it has less to do with gender and more to do with being comfortable with someone before I feel attraction.”
“That makes sense.” Rhys’s head was spinning, but he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to know everything. “And with Neil?”
“We’ve gotten to be friends through work, and I know he’s attracted to me. But I don’t really know if I feel that way about him, even though he’s definitely handsome.” Holy shit. Emerson was talking about an actual guy being cute. And oh my fucking God, this is surreal. “We eat lunch together, and we both enjoy baseball, so when he asked me to go to a game with him, I thought why not?”
Rhys stared at Emerson as if seeing him for the first time. His cheeks were ruddy red, and he was a bit sweaty, and so fucking adorable. Rhys was grateful Emerson trusted him enough to share himself with him. Again.
“I’m sorry I don’t remember,” Rhys said, his voice filled with remorse.
“Don’t you dare beat yourself up about that.” Emerson placed his hand on top of Rhys’s wrist and added pressure, and his skin tingled, making everything confusing all over again. After that confession, he couldn’t help wondering about all the possibilities.
When Emerson moved his fingers away, he wanted to reach out for him again, so as not to feel like an unmoored ship.
“Audrey seemed upset when Neil showed up,” Rhys said, remembering her strange reaction.
“She did?” Emerson glanced warily toward the staircase.
“Why would she be upset?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe she’s just not used to me going out with friends.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
Emerson stood up. “I’ll talk to her in the morning.”
“Okay.”
They stared at each other some more as Emerson’s features flickered through a series of emotions—fear and worry and relief—so many things Rhys couldn’t make rhyme or reason of right then.
“Thanks for…” Emerson trailed off.
“Thank you.”
More standing in place, and then, “I’m gonna go to bed.”
“Yeah, okay.” Rhys wanted to ask him to stay, but that was ridiculous. Besides, they were both tired. “Good night.”
And then Emerson fled the room like he couldn’t get away fast enough. But he supposed it made sense. Emerson had to come out to Rhys all over again. That was enough to send anyone running.
18
Emerson
Emerson yawned and sat up in bed. He had a few extra minutes to grab a shower and coffee before getting the kids up for school. He’d had a restless night due to replaying his conversation with Rhys too many times to count. He’d practically run to his room afterward and had trouble reining in his breaths as he sank against his sheets and stared at the ceiling until he finally succumbed to sleep.
He’d almost told Rhys everything. Almost. In hindsight, he was glad he’d restrained himself. Not only because it was wrong to bombard Rhys with too much at once, but also because he couldn’t think of anything worse than Rhys feeling sorry for him or obligated to him for a fucking kiss that he didn’t even remember or feelings he couldn’t recreate.