He stands and grabs the remote resting on the coffee table. Tosses it on the couch. “Put something on. I’ll be right back.”

I stare at him after he enters the kitchen and disappears from sight. He wants to watch something together? We haven’t done that since middle school. And I definitely had no idea what size his dick was then. I should be mature enough to move past it…but I’m not sure I am.

If it was some other guy, I probably would be happy he wanted to spend more time together.

With Holden, I’m worried I’ll say or do something to embarrass myself. If I haven’t already.

I’m not comfortable or relaxed around him. I’m butterflies and heart palpitations.

Despite my apprehension, I take a seat on the couch and turn on the television. Because I’d rather be around Holden than not, and that’s always caused conflict where my head and my heart are concerned. I scroll through the movie options until I land on some action thriller.

When Holden walks back into the living room, he’s holding a bottle of beer. I twist the hem of my shirt, trying to act oblivious as he settles next to me. The cushions dip with his weight, and my stomach swoops as well.

“I was sober as a non-priest, flower.”

I don’t react to that statement. For one, I don’t want Holden to think it matters to me that alcohol had no influence during what just happened between us. Or that I care he listened to what I said about priests and drinking, that we have some sort of inside joke about it now.

Holden raises his eyebrows, then takes a sip. The muscles in his throat contract and shift, and I avert my gaze, trying to ignore how there’s something masculine and mesmerizing about the motion.

More than not wanting to give Holden a reaction, I don’t want to react. I don’t want telling myself I’m not affected by him to be a lie…but it obviously is.

Something cold touches my arm and I jump. He chuckles, something in the sound rattling around my chest like spare change in a car cupholder. I glance down and watch a bead of condensation roll down the green glass bottle being offered to me.

“No thanks.”

“You’ll swallow my cum but not swap spit?”

A hot flush starts in my cheeks and spreads. I guess we’re not pretending earlier didn’t happen.

I clear my throat once. “Maybe I’m not thirsty.”

Maybe I like the taste of you.

No way am I saying that out loud. I’m treading on uneven ground. Unexplored terrain. I don’t know what is happening or what to say or how to act around him right now.