Uncontrollably Yours

You Look Dumb

Monty and I are almost done with our presentation for our Topics of Today class.

We're currently in my dorm room, sitting next to each other in my loft bed, and finishing up a Google slide. But what I really want to do is push all this homework shit off the bed and do very, very bad things to Monty and let Monty do equally bad things to me.

I'm so fucking horny right now because I didn't jerk off last night (you're welcome, Ethan), and seeing Monty is that stupid, sexy crop-top makes me want to rip it off of him. So I say, "I really hate your crop-tops."

Monty turns to me, their eyebrows raised. "Am I supposed to change for you?"

I shrug, "you could just take it off," I suggest. I've been feeling more bold lately. I don't know why I didn't kiss Monty in their dressing room at The Coven Friday night and then felt nervous to invite him over? What the hell kind of pussy-shit is that? I'm Preston Anders, I'm hot and rich and I want Monty, so I plan on getting them.

But then, they laugh, "goofy-ass, pay attention," they tell me and go back to typing 'psychology for cops'.

My eyebrows draw together in confusion, "I was being serious," I tell them, shutting the laptop.

"I know, which is why I laughed," they open the laptop.

"You're not going to take off your shirt?"

"Why don't you take your shirt off," but I'm already taking it off before Monty finishes their sentence. "Oh my god, Preston! I was was kidding," and Monty's cackling that spray-bottle-sounding laugh I love so much, that I chuckle as well. "Put your shirt back on, dumbass. I've never met someone more shameless than you."

I put my shirt back on, but I'm not giving up. "Let's go out. Tonight."

That stops Monty's laughter. "I can't," their tone is as disappointed as their eyes, "Tuesday night?"

I groan, "that's in two days! Why not tonight?"

"My grandma's in town so I have to attend dinner tonight with my whole family." They roll their eyes like they'd rather do anything other than go to that dinner. "But... maybe you could join me?" They offer.

I cringe, "Eh, a family dinner? That's not really my thing."

"You can take me back to your dorm afterwards and I can spend the night." Now, that's a better offer.

I grin, "deal."

"But, um, don't refer to me as they/them," Monty tells me sheepishly.

My eyebrows draw together. "What? Why?"

"My family just doesn't really understand it, but it's fine. So just he/him pronouns."

If I can understand it, I'm sure their family can. But, I say, "Okay, if that's what you want."

**

Monty left around three PM and told me to be at their house by six-thirty PM which is where I am, knocking on their front door. And that stupid, pussy-shit nervous feeling is back again.

Why the hell did I agree to have dinner with Monty and their family? What the shit was I thinking?

Actually, I know the answer to that; all I was thinking about was, I really want Monty to spend the night with me. Because I know we both want something to happen between us.

Monty feels the same throbbing feeling in his chest, the same jumbled knots in his stomach like me when us two are together, right? I mean, Monty was definitely staring at my mouth in that dressing room Friday night.

That's why I'm ringing the doorbell to Monty's house, because of those feelings inside me. Because I care about Monty and I want to see where our relationship can go.

But when Monty opens the front door, the first words out of my mouth are, "what the fuck are you wearing?"

"Preston," Monty uses a scolding tone when they say my name and they pull me into the house. I shut the door when we're both in. "Please no swearing while you're here. And also, just be less... mouthy," Monty instructs me in a whisper.

"Okay." Then, because they didn't answer my question, I reword my previous phrase, "why do you look like this?"

Monty's wearing some hideous sweater vest over a white collared shirt and chino pants. Their nose ring is missing, their ears also lack rings. They have none of that shit he usually put on their lashes to make the lashes look darker and longer. What the fuck?

"I just... wanted to look... presentable for dinner with my family."

They're lying. Monty's not trying to look presentable for themselves, Monty's dressing like a completely other person for their family.

"You look dumb," I tell Monty. That surprisingly gets a chuckle out of Monty even though I was being honest.

"Come on," Monty grabs my hand, bringing me through the house and this is the first time I really look at their home.

It's smaller than my home, but kept very neat. Monty's family is clearly religious with the crosses on the wall and the Jesus picture (I make a mental note to later ask Monty if they're religious). It smells very... homey in here. My house smells like lavender and bleach all the time from our cleaning lady who basically lives at my house. My house seems fake compared to Monty's.

Right before we walk into the dining room, where there's a loud chatter, Monty drops my hand. Monty isn't in the closet, right? They have to be out to their family. (That's another thing I'll ask about later).

The chatter simmers when we enter. There's four people gathered around a table, a middle aged woman whom I assume is Monty's mom. An older lady who must be the grandma. And, two smaller children who might be Monty's younger siblings, but I've only ever been told about Monty's older sister, so I could be wrong.

"Everyone, this is Preston," Monty smiles saying my name which makes my heart do stupid things and I want to kiss Monty so badly. "Preston, this is my mother," he gestures to the middle aged woman, then to the old lady, "my grandmother, and Aliyah, and Junior or JJ" to the smaller girl then boy.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," I say and am about to take my seat when a lager and intimidating version of Monty steps into the room.

"Preston, this is my father," Monty introduces me.

I extend my hand to him, "Mr. Jones, it's nice to meet you, sir. Thank you so much for letting me have dinner with your family." I don't even know what the hell came out of my mouth, but Mr. Jones has a pleasing smile under his mustache, and gives me a firm handshake, so I must've said something right.

Monty smiles at me as we all take a seat.

And it all goes downhill from here.

**

I think Preston secretly likes Monty's crop-tops🤫

Thank you for reading!! Comment/vote!

-Xoxo, Bert