Page 72 of Catching Sparkles

“There were a lot!” I argued. “What about Goose? He was, like, a cool chicken guy.”

“I said cute.”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree,” I muttered, giving him a firm poke in the ribs, but had to bury my grin in his shoulder.

Because he seemed to love dressing up for me no matter what we were doing together, he’d put on one of his adorable matching pajama sets. It was a cropped hoodie and tiny shorts in the same pretty blue-green shade, and the thigh-high socks he’d rolled onto his legs were a pastel purple with stars printed all over them. It kind of drove me crazy when he wore socks like that, because it was hard to tear my eyes away from the sexy little expanse of his thighs left uncovered.

It was all these tiny moments that in the grand scheme of things were sort of insignificant, but for some reason felt huge to me. The effort he put into his appearance when I was around, whether it was slipping on lingerie to surprise me when we were going to fuck, or just looking cute for me when we were lazing around.

The way he remembered tiny details about my preferences, whether it was for food or movies or the temperature I liked the water to be in the shower. It was like improving my life and making me feel safe and content was his natural instinct. And he’d never once held anything over my head or made me feel guilty over anything he’d done for me. He seemed to love doting on me.

And then there was the sex. I’d never had such amazing sex in my life. Not even close. All the time, whenever I needed it, however I wanted it. And I wasn’t some inexperienced dork. I’d had plenty of sex, and with beautiful, confident women at that. But there was something about the way it was with him that just… blew everything else I’d ever had out of the water. I could really just let go and be myself and be honest about my desires. All of them.

Should I have been concerned about just how much I’d liked getting my ass eaten? Part of me wanted to feel weird about it, but… I mean, I’d already full-on fucked a guy. A lot. I’d sucked him off more times than I could even count, and I’d probably pumped enough loads into him to fill a swimming pool. Was it really that big of a deal? That was just part of being a guy that was into other guys, right?

My eyes widened a bit as I realized how easily and casually my brain had produced that statement. Holy shit. Had I ever really admitted that before? Not that I was attracted to Kendall specifically, that was impossible to deny, but that I was… a guy who was into other guys, plural?

But was it true? Was I really into other guys? Did I count as bisexual if I wasn’t? Surely liking just one guy still counted but was there something wrong with me if I only liked him?

I racked my brain for a highlight reel of every guy I’d ever met in my entire life. The boring, nondescript guys I’d worked with at my last job. The fit, competitive guys I’d played sports with in college. The rowdy, fun-loving guys who I’d been hanging out with lately at the sports bar in town. None of them held any kind of interest for me in that way.

But then I remembered the interior decorator Hailey had hired when we’d first bought our house. Her dad had paid for the guy as a kind of housewarming present. I could barely remember his name. Marky? Manny? He was around a lot back then, discussing all kinds of things with her that I couldn’t have cared less about. Furniture style, rugs, paint swatches, the art that should be on the walls.

He’d been young and short, with a slim body and a cute face, usually in tight clothes that showed off his lean form. He’d been a total fucking snob, so I’d avoided him anytime he’d come over. But if I thought about him objectively, separating the pretentious personality from his appearance… I could admit he was kind of hot. Had I thought that back then? I couldn’t remember. If I had, then… I’d definitely just repressed and ignored it.

Then I thought about the barista at the coffee shop next to the gym I’d used before moving back to Cherryvale. He’d been pretty and even kind of androgynous with smudgey eyeliner and lip gloss most days. He’d always remembered my order, espresso over ice in a large cup that I could pour my own protein shake into, and he’d hit on me pretty shamelessly most mornings. I remembered feeling flattered, but… I’d been married. If I hadn’t been, would I have considered it? Thinking back on it now, he was definitely hot. I couldn’t deny it.

Seeming to immediately sense the shift in my mood, Kendall wriggled a bit in my arms, tilting his head back to kiss me.

“You okay?” He wondered.

“Um, yeah,” I answered quickly. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Uh…” Nerves bloomed in my stomach, but the realization was swelling and swelling inside me, and I instantly knew it couldn’t be contained. “I think… I think I like guys. Guys that are, you know. Cute. Like you. You know, twinks or whatever.”

There was a long, silent pause where I had to bite down into the tip of my tongue to keep from babbling more, until Kendall turned around to stare into my face with an incredulous, but highly amused expression.

“That’s really good to know, Rhys. I’m so relieved.” The obvious sarcasm in his voice had a flush washing over me.

“I mean, obviously I like you, but other guys too! I’m saying there’s other guys in the world that I would, you know, mess around with.” When he raised an eyebrow, I cleared my throat and went on. “N-not that I would, you know, because I have you, but…” Oh shit, was that too weird to say to him? We’d never had a conversation about being exclusive or anything. “I was kind of worried that maybe I was, uh… I don’t know, fetishizing you or something.”

“Fetishizing me?” He repeated flatly, blinking. “Have you been doomscrolling on Twitter, Rhys? You know the stuff people make a big deal about on there isn’t, like, real.”

“No!” I denied, shaking my head, knowing I sounded like a complete moron. “Never mind. Forget that. I just mean… I’m… I’m bi. Bisexual. I like guys. And I just… thought you should know that. Or something.”

“Rhys.” My name came out gently as he turned around to face me and I waited for him to make fun of me. To remind me that I’d literally come in my pants the first time I’d sucked his dick, or some other embarrassing anecdote revolving around how attracted to him I was. “How do you feel?”

His question surprised me, and my brows drew together. “I feel… good, I think. I think it took me a while to understand what was happening in my brain, and maybe that makes me an idiot, but…”

“It doesn’t make you an idiot,” he promised, brushing a lock of my hair off my forehead. “You’re just figuring stuff out. I’m glad you’ve been able to do that since coming back here.”

The understanding in his voice, the way he always was with me, with no judgment ever and the harrowing way I could imagine how horrible this realization about myself could have been without him struck me so intensely that I grabbed him again, yanking him against me and burying my face in his neck.

“This could have been really scary for me if you weren’t here,” I muttered, breathing him in and squeezing him as hard as I could without hurting him. The need to have him as close to me as humanly possible, like I wanted us to start fusing together, was totally foreign to me, but I didn’t know how to ignore it.

He stroked his fingers over the top of my head before pressing his lips to the crown of my hair. “You don’t have to worry about me not being here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”