Just a Bit Wrecked (Straight Guys 11)

And then she was gone.

Andrew woke up with tears in his eyes.

He lay like that, crying silently until there were no tears left.

He felt at peace, for the first time in a long time.

After a while, he reached for his phone and scrolled to his aunt’s number. He hit Call.

“Andrew?” she said, sounding sleepy. “Is something wrong?”

Right. It was still early morning.

“It wasn’t an experiment,” he said hoarsely. “I think I’m bi.”

There was silence on the line.

He could hear his aunt breathe unsteadily. “Andrew… Is this about that man?” she said. “Logan?”

Andrew stared at the ceiling. “It isn’t about anyone. It’s about me. I’m attracted to men. I want to know if you—if you can still—”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said tersely. “You think I dedicated my life to raising you just to— you think that’s enough for me to give up on you?”

“It isn’t?” he croaked out.

“Idiot boy,” she bit off and hung up.

Andrew stared at the phone blankly before a laugh left his throat.

Something in his chest loosened a bit. He knew his aunt would never entirely approve of his sexuality, but maybe it was okay.

Maybe she didn’t need to approve of his life choices to love him.

***

He had intended to be an adult about it.

He had wanted to message Logan with something neutral, find out where he was, if he was seeing anyone (even thinking about it made him feel sick, but it was a possibility, one he couldn’t dismiss), but in the end, he was too much of a coward. He wasn’t brave at all.

So Andrew did the responsible, adult thing: he stalked Logan.

He went back to Logan’s hotel and asked the manager for his address. The manager recognized him this time, and after having seen Andrew nearly naked in Logan’s room, probably had drawn his own conclusions and didn’t need much convincing when Andrew said he wanted to surprise Logan. He got the address.

To his surprise, it was a Boston address. Apparently Logan hadn’t returned to New York. Logan had been here all this time. So close. And yet he’d stayed away.

Andrew wasn’t sure what to think. How to feel. Hell, he still wasn’t sure what he was going to say when he saw Logan again.

As he approached the house, he played out various scenarios in his head.

Realistically, he knew that Logan was unlikely to be happy to see him. He knew it was a stupid idea to go there without any warning. It was probably going to be awkward as fuck. It was likely that they had become strangers to each other. At best, there would be some awkward small talk. At worst, Logan would be angry with him for seeking him out. Or…

Enough, he told himself as he stopped in front of the door. Whatever happens, happens. At least I’ll get some closure and stop this stupid pining.

He knocked.

It felt like forever before the door finally opened. Logan’s slight smile froze when he saw Andrew.

All the words died in Andrew’s throat.

He looked so good.

It was probably a stupid thought, because Logan always looked good, but Andrew didn’t really mean his looks. The way he looked—his stubbled face, his dark eyes, the sardonic curl of his firm mouth—it was… Logan looked like home. He looked like his, Andrew’s.

Later, Andrew would be embarrassed by what he did. Later, he would be mortified. Right now he didn’t give a damn—he just wanted.

He practically launched himself at Logan and kissed him hard, his hands running up and down Logan’s arms, over his broad shoulders and strong back, wanting to feel him, needing him so much he was shaking with it. He kissed him desperately, all teeth and tongue, craving him, breathing in his scent like an addict, and unable to get enough.

At first Logan didn’t respond, his body rigid with tension. But then, he groaned and kissed back, his arm crushing Andrew against his chest and his other hand burying in Andrew’s hair. God, it felt so good, so perfect, so right. Andrew’s eyes were burning with tears, his lips—his everything—clinging to Logan, unable to let go, unwilling to let go, never again.

There was some noise, but Andrew barely registered it, his body boneless against Logan, his mouth insatiable, every part of his being singing with happiness. God, the way he smelled, the way he tasted, it was—

“Ahem,” someone said again. “Do we need to go, brother? We can go.”

Andrew whined when Logan stopped kissing him, seeking his mouth blindly. No, don’t go.

“Christ,” Logan said and kissed him again, pulling their hips flush.

“Eh, maybe get a room, you two,” a laughing female voice said.

When the words fully registered, Andrew tried to wrench his lips away from Logan’s, but this time it was Logan who didn’t let him, kissing him again, and again, and again, his mouth wet, hot, and hungry, his hands kneading Andrew’s ass.