A Hotter Touch, A Better F... Than Any Girl You'll Ever Meet

Chapter 19

How I avoided telling Brendon anything, I don't remember really. I suspect Matt pulled him aside and explained to him the things I couldn't myself, because the pressure was loosened.

Brent and Spencer still left us the bus most of the time and now I could whole-heartedly sat that I loved it.

We watched loads of movies for some reason, bought a couple of new DVDs at every truck stop we stopped at, but I suppose it was all simply for the fact that we'd cut back on the making out a bit. Brendon knew his limits now and respected them and was as good as I at stopping, asking if every new step he took was all right.

Yeah, the insecurities were still there. I'd be lying if I told you otherwise. Why he suddenly linked his worth as a person to whether or not I'd sleep with him, I couldn't be sure, but I think it could be that he still distrusted my feelings for him to such an extent that a part of him needed me to sleep with him for him to understand that I really DID love him.

I tried to make my feelings as clear to him as in any other way possible; held him, kissed him, held his hand, readily giving an 'I love you too' back to his smallest 'I love you.' But I still knew that I was stuck between a rock and a hard place because I couldn't stall forever, but at the same time I didn't want to ruin us by rushing it.

And I suppose time was running out. I'd already been stalling for the three weeks we'd been together by then and I honestly didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to stand for it, respecting me or not.

******

I did what I could to keep Brendon happy. And otherwise occupied.

This led to watching quite a few movies I had no actual interest in.

Brendon is your stereotypical gay guy on at least one area. Movies. Romantic comedies, chick-flicks, whatever you'd like to call them; he loved them. And while that was somewhat adorable in its own way, I sometimes, often, thought I was going to puke or mentally overdose on sugary sweetness.

I made the best of it, though, mostly napping while he ah'ed and aw'ed at his movies. I was still not in great shape and these relaxed days were probably helping me heal up more. I'm talking physically here, of course.

This all leads us to one day in particular. We were in our usual couch, Brendon sitting in one end while I lay sprawled across the whole thing, my head in his lap.

We were both pretending that the closeness between my face and his crotch wasn't frustrating.

His hand was in my hair, absentmindedly stroking, which has got to be one of the most soothing gestures on Earth.

I hadn't fallen asleep that day, though. I simply lay there, watching the movie with him and enjoying the innocent kind of closeness we were sharing.

Why we were watching Ella Enchanted, I have no idea, but once again I'll put it down to Brendon's love for movies the rest of us would feel too manly to pick.

Why I was gushing over the ending remains a mystery to me, but I suppose I was.

Brendon, apparently, found this amusing beyond words, so he started laughing before finally getting any words out. "You're such a girl!" he laughed teasingly.

I wish he hadn't managed those words, though. He might as well have punched me again a hundred times over. That couldn't have hurt more.

It wasn't the innocent teasing in itself that hurt and made me shoot up into a sitting position in the other end of the couch, drawing my knees up against my chest and hugging them to me in the ancient fetal position, grasping for comfort. It was the words that inevitably followed in my mind.