AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Tristan rolled his eyes and muttered something like “spoilsport,” but he followed Ambrose out of the door, then they were alone.
“I’m sorry I didn’t—” Jack said, at the same time as Harry said, “I’m sorry for?—”
They stopped and stared at each other, before Harry sighed and said, in a tone that suggested the confession was being dragged from his very soul, “I’m not someone who’s interested in sex. Like, ever.”
Jack nodded, unsure of what to say, unsure if Harry was telling him he wasn’t interested, or something else. But Harry was the one who’d kissed him, so there must be more to it.
“I never got it before, when people talked about needing to get laid, or wanting to jump someone’s bones. So I figured I was ace, you know?” Harry ran a hand over his mouth. “And then you came along, and you made me want things, Jack. Things I’ve never wanted before. It turns out I’m…I don’t know? Jacksexual? Whatever. I’m into you. A lot, it turns out. And I don’t know what to do with that. I mean, I jerked off thinking of you! I’ve never jerked off thinking of anyone before!”
Jack’s entire body flooded with relief at hearing that, but it was tempered by the look of abject misery on Harry's face. Jack wanted to kiss it away, but that hadn’t really worked for them last time, so instead he leaned in close. “Harry,” he said quietly. Harry glanced up. “It’s okay. Some people only feel attracted to someone they share an emotional connection with, that’s all. It’s a thing. And for the record, I like you too, and I liked it when you kissed me.”
Harry’s eyes widened slightly. “You did?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah. You’re sexy as hell, and I’d like to kiss you again.” Jack was struck with a sudden burst of insecurity. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about liking me, and that’s why you bolted?”
“No, I bolted because you froze like a rabbit in a spotlight, and I thought you weren’t interested, and that I’d fucked things up by not even asking first.”
“I was just surprised, but that might have been the ambush factor. It wasn’t because I'm not interested.”
“That’s what Ambrose said. I just—I panicked, I guess.”
“I’d like it if you kissed me again,” Jack said. “I’d like it a lot.”
Harry’s mouth curved up in a hopeful smile. “Yeah?”
Warmth blossomed in Jack’s chest. “Yeah.” He half-turned so he was facing Harry and put one hand on his shoulder. “Can I?”
Harry gave a tiny nod, and Jack drew him closer, eyes closing as he sought out Harry’s lips. He kept it soft, careful, and it was Harry who opened his mouth, Harry who made desperate, breathy sounds when Jack pressed his tongue inside, and Harry who turned their kiss into something deeper, more desperate. Jack went with it, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair and tugging at it gently to angle his head so that their mouths slotted together like pieces of a puzzle.
Kissing Harry was exactly as awesome as Jack had dreamed it would be, and judging by the surprised gasp Harry made when they finally pulled apart he thought it was pretty good too, but Jack asked, just to be sure. “Was that okay?”
Harry looked like he’d been poleaxed—but in a good way, like someone had just told him he’d won the Lotto. He reached out and grabbed Jack’s hand and pressed it to the front of his jeans, so Jack could feel his erection. “I think,” he said with a gleam in his eye and a smile on his face, “that I’m definitely Jacksexual.”
It wasn’t until they were on their way back to Newtown, Harry’s thigh pressing hard against his from where he was wedged in between Jack and Tris, that Jack thought about the other part of what Harry had said. Not the Jacksexual part—which was amazing—but the part where he’d jerked off thinking about him.
A flush of heat ran through him, and he curled his fingers around the steering wheel so he didn’t do something stupid like drop his hand to Harry’s thigh and grope him. The thought of Harry—his hair mussed, his eyes half closed, biting his bottom lip and writhing on his bed—was hot as fuck, and, oh Jesus, Jack was going to get hard just thinking about it.
He liked Harry a lot, and he wanted to see where this went. Sure, there was that old saying—You don’t shit where you eat—but Jack liked Harry too much to bring himself to follow that advice, and he was choosing to ignore the fact that there were a lot of things that could go wrong when roommates got together. Even so, he was aware that even apart from Harry’s inexperience and newly fuzzy sexuality—grey ace? Demi? Who knew?—shit could easily get complicated.
But when he glanced at Harry, and Harry smiled at him, cheeks flushed, Jack shoved his concerns aside.
Complicated? Maybe. Worth it? Hell yes.
Chapter Nine
“Ihave a boyfriend,” Harry practiced saying in the shower that night. He told his shampoo bottle, the soap rack and the taps. Then, when he was out of the shower, he told his serious-looking reflection in the mirror as well. “I have a boyfriend.”
No. If he couldn’t tell himself without getting a weird twitch in his eye, there was no way he could tell anyone else. Well, apart from Ambrose and Tris. Like, his parents? No. His Nanna? He couldn’t even imagine it. Beryl from the op shop? She’d probably just yell at him that Jack was way out of his league. No, it was best to keep this between himself, his closest friends and the items in the shower.
There was a nervous energy prickling under his skin and building in his gut as he dressed, then, possibly for the first time in years, actually combed his hair instead of letting it do whatever the fuck it wanted as it dried. He even checked out a few different bottles of Tristan’s hair products, but he didn’t actually know what any of them did—even after reading the labels—so he put them back where he found them.
Ambrose had always said he was ridiculously adorable, but the thing about Ambrose was that he talked a lot of shit. Also, he thought Baby Yoda was ridiculously adorable which, while true, didn’t exactly mean that adorable lined up with sexually attractive. Or at least Harry hoped not, because that would be super fucking disturbing.
But Jack had said, “You’re sexy as hell.” He didn’t think Jack would lie about that. And attractiveness, and sexiness, was as subjective as all fuck, so maybe it didn’t matter if he couldn’t tell. Jack had sounded damn sure about it. And Jack… Jack was definitely also as sexy as hell. Well, as sexy as the outermost circle of hell, maybe, because Harry was pretty sure he hadn’t gotten to the really hot parts in the middle yet. He’d only just realised hot was a thing. He’d barely navigated the lit match of attraction, let alone dived into the lava pits he was sure awaited him.
He thought about sharing that analogy with Jack, before he remembered Jack’s dad was a minister. So, um, maybe not.
Holy shit. He had a boyfriend, and he had no fucking idea what he was supposed to do next.
