Blindsided (Fake Boyfriend 4)

“You just won the Super Bowl.”

“We won the Super Bowl.”

“Uh-huh.” I still don’t see it that way, but I’m not gonna argue that with drunk Talon. “I mean you’re allowed to celebrate.” Even if my balls are blue and I’ve waited months—no, years—for this to happen. “Come on. Shuffle up the bed and get under the covers.”

He wriggles his way up so his head hits the pillow. “Fine. But once I’m recovered, your ass is mine. Or mine is yours. I dunno. We haven’t worked that out yet, have we?”

We haven’t worked out much of anything, but now’s not the time for that discussion. Or any discussion, really.

“Maybe we could leave both our asses out of it to begin with. Start slow.”

“Oh my God, it feels like we’ve been moving slower than a fucking tortoise. I’ve wanted this for six months, ever since training camp.”

“Me too. So one more night won’t kill us. And then we can talk about it when we’re both sober.”

“Drunk talking about it seems funner.”

“I bet it does.” I strip down and join him in bed, but he’s still on top of the comforter, and now I’m under the sheets. “You gonna join me under here, or you gonna sleep on top all night?”

Talon tries to roll over and undress without getting up but somehow gets stuck. On what, I’m not sure. “So. Much. Effort.” Finally, he gives up and climbs out of bed. He strips out of the rest of his clothes just like I did, only he doesn’t stop at his boxer briefs. They go too, and then he lifts the sheets and half-falls back into bed.

Now, he’s cuddled up next to me, and all I can think about are the times I imagined this happening—him pressed against me with nothing between us.

I take a deep breath, because I need it to steady my racing heart.

He inches closer and does that thing girls do where they nudge your shoulder like a cat to get you to open your arms for them.

I lift my arm and wrap it around Talon’s muscular body as he snuggles into my chest. “Comfortable?” I ask.

“Actually? This kinda feels weird.”

I laugh.

“How do girls sleep like this?” Talon moves his head around, trying to get settled in the nook of my shoulder, which makes me laugh even more.

“Hate to say it, but there are plenty of guys who like it too.”

Talon stiffens but covers it up by shifting as if he’s still uncomfortable. “Do you like it?”

“Wouldn’t know. The guys I’ve been with haven’t exactly seen me as the little spoon.”

“That’s because you’re a giant. Let’s switch.”

Before I can make a That sounds promising joke, we change positions so Talon’s on his back, and I’m curled into his side.

Talon’s strong arms around me feel better than I expected, and I don’t know why I’ve never been the one to be cuddled before. My guess is my large frame probably looks weird and doesn’t fit gender norms. Hey, sometimes big guys need hugs too.

I want to sink into Talon’s warmth and burrow under it.

“Can I ask you something?” Talon’s small voice doesn’t fill me with confidence that I’m going to like his question.

“Okay.”

“How many guys was it? In college.”

My mouth dries. “Why do you want to know?”

“I understand why you never said anything back then, but I kinda hate that we never got the chance to figure this out together. I’m alone in this, and you’re treating me with kid gloves.”

I don’t know if it’s the alcohol talking or if it’s lowered Talon’s inhibitions and filter.

Oh, who am I kidding, Talon has no filter.

“I don’t want to fuck this up,” I whisper. My head stays on Talon’s chest, because I refuse to lift it and look at him.

“So tell me. About the guys.”

I sigh. “There’s not much to tell.” I don’t want to tell him that the first time I’d been with another guy, it had been because I hung outside the LGBTQ student support center until I found a forward femme guy to take home. I knew he’d be discreet, because one of the first things out of his mouth was “I can be discreet.” I think he knew what I was waiting for. Hell, I dunno, maybe a lot of bi-curious guys did the same thing and he was used to it. Or maybe I was just obvious.

“Did you … you know …”

I snort. “No, I don’t know. Did I what? Have a relationship with any of them? No. Hook up with them more than once? Only one guy. I don’t know what you’re asking, Talon.”

“Did you have sex with any of them?”

“Define sex.”

“You’re impossible.”

I know what Talon’s asking—society’s definition of sex which includes penetration—but I don’t want to get into it. I don’t see the point of him knowing. But this is Talon, and I never seem to be able to deny him anything. “I’ve never bottomed, but I’ve topped before.”