Just a Bit Obsessed (Straight Guys 2)

“You said you got bored. That’s why you ditched m—us.”

Christian bit his lip. “It’s different. It was sex. This…isn’t sex.” It definitely wasn’t.

Alexander chuckled. “Just what every man wants to hear: that he bores someone only in bed.”

Christian caught his arm. “You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

He felt the muscles under his hand flex.

Alexander looked down at Christian’s fingers around his biceps before slowly looking up.

Christian flushed and let go, clenching his hand and putting it in his lap. “You know I was far from bored.” He tensed, half-expecting Alexander to ask why he had quit if he hadn’t been really bored, but Alexander didn’t ask.

Christian breathed out.

They watched the movie in silence for a while, though Christian wouldn’t have been able to tell what the movie was about even if his life depended on it. There was a lot of shouting and shooting, but he barely registered it.

Christian had never been so acutely aware of his own body. He could feel every breath: Alexander’s even breathing and his own, irregular and a bit too loud. He could feel every inch that separated their bodies, his skin prickling and aching for Alexander’s touch.

On the screen, people were having sex, and Christian fidgeted a bit. He didn’t look at Alexander, but he was sure he wasn’t just imagining the sudden awkwardness in the air. The tension, thick and taut.

He has a girlfriend, Christian repeated to himself like a mantra. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend.

He nearly flinched when he felt a touch on his bare arm. Alexander’s fingers stroked the side of his hand, brushing Christian’s wrist.

Christian turned his head and found Alexander watching the movie, as though he wasn’t even aware what his hand was doing. Maybe he wasn’t.

The sex scene ended, but Alexander’s fingers were still touching his arm. Stroking. Kneading gently.

Christian panted, his gaze becoming unfocused, his nerves lighting up, and his skin burning where Alexander touched it.

“Alec,” he bit out at last.

“What?”

“Your hand.”

The fingers stopped.

Alexander looked down, pressed his lips into a thin line and removed his hand. “Sorry,” he said, his voice clipped. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Christian said with a forced lightness in his tone. “Shawn and I touch each other all the time.”

“Shawn,” Alexander repeated. “Is he just a friend?”

“What?”

Alexander’s face was expressionless, but his eyes were fixed on him intently. “Do you sleep with him?”

Christian gave a short laugh. “No! He’s like a brother to me. Besides, he’s in a relationship, and even if he wasn’t, he’s not my type.” Where the hell had Alexander gotten the idea about him and Shawn?

Alexander’s lashes lowered, hiding his expression. When he looked up again, his eyes were unreadable. “How many people have you slept with in the last few weeks?”

Christian’s breath caught in his throat.

He cocked his head. “Why do you care?”

Silence.

Alexander said at last, “I don’t like that people think you’re easy.”

Oh.

Christian looked back at the TV. “It’s none of your business how many people I’ve fucked after you.” He knew he sounded pissed off and disappointed, but he couldn’t do anything about it; he’d never been that good at hiding his emotions. “I’m not going to apologize for being ‘easy.’”

He felt Alexander look at his profile. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Then what the fuck did you mean?” Christian glared at him. “What are you even doing here, Alec? And don’t feed me that bullshit about being in the neighborhood. Why are you here?”

Alexander’s throat moved. He looked away, his jaw clenched.

“I don’t know,” he said tersely.

The raw honesty in his voice almost made Christian’s heart leap out of his chest.

“You don’t know?” If Alexander didn’t know what he was doing here—if this was a spur-of-the moment visit—it was huge. Alexander Sheldon always planned and rationalized his actions. Always. That much Christian knew.

Alexander stood up. “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.” A muscle pulsed in his cheek. “Goodbye, Christian.” There was finality in his voice, and Christian panicked and grabbed his hand.

Alexander flinched.

“Don’t go,” Christian said, squeezing his fingers. “We can be— we can be friends.” Inwardly, he was cringing, because this was a fucking terrible idea. Being friends with Alexander would be hell. But there was a part of him that was ready to be whatever Alexander wanted them to be—the stupid, smitten part.

“Friends,” Alexander repeated, as though the word was unfamiliar to him.

Christian nodded, holding his gaze. “Yeah. Just hang out, you know?”

Alexander stared at him.

Christian could literally feel the conflict in Alexander: his grip on Christian’s hand kept loosening and tightening.

Remembering that people seemed to like his smile, Christian smiled and said softly, “Friends?”

“Friends,” Alexander said.

“Okay,” Christian said, not sure whether he was elated or disappointed. “Friends, then.”

Nodding, Alexander took his seat again, but closer to Christian this time. He freed his hand from Christian’s fingers and stretched his arm over the back of the couch, behind Christian. He was warm, and big, and comfy—and so close that Christian could smell his aftershave. Feel his heat.