I’ve always prayed that it’s just an attraction. Because he’s hot as fuck, nothing more.

But as my lips quiver and my fist curls around my erection to visions of him touching me the way I’m touching myself, I can’t even be sure.

All I know is that I’m jerking off to thoughts of my dad right now…

And less than two minutes later, I’m coming in my hand with his face in my brain.

It’s just after midnight when I drag myself up the steps to my bedroom.

I’m barely even tired, but I just knew if I stayed downstairs on the couch, I’d end up drinking too many beers and passing out down there, which is something I’d prefer not to do.

I don’t want to seem like I’m drowning my sorrows, because I’m not. I dodged a bit of a bullet when Leslie ended things. I’m glad it happened, though it pains me to admit it. Why wouldn’t I want to get serious with a beautiful woman? It doesn’t make much sense.

I just can’t stop thinking about how Jesse clammed up when I mentioned the reason for the inevitable end to the relationship. I never meant for him to feel guilty. At the end of the day, it’s not his fault at all. I was the one keeping Leslie at a distance. It had nothing to do with him. These are all my issues.

Maybe I’m not meant to settle down. With anyone.

Inside my bedroom, I strip down to my boxers and climb into bed. Beneath the covers, I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling for a while, my internal obsessing whisking me away until I barely even remember how I got to where I am in my head.

I’m not a great sleeper. I’ve always struggled with getting a full eight hours. Or even five. But part of me thinks I run better on a lack of sleep. I’m fine with it.

When I hear sudden footsteps in the hallway, I’m on high alert. My bedroom door is open a crack, done so for a reason. So that he doesn’t hurt himself.

Because when he staggers inside, he’s shuffling like a zombie, eyelids fluttering as his heavy steps clunk him right into the side of my bed. And then he crashes down onto it, nestling up on top of the covers.

I let out a despondent sigh.

Jesse sleepwalks. He’s been doing it since he was a kid, and we’ve never been able to get to the root of the problem. The first few times were terrifying. I’d wake up in the morning and find him on the bathroom floor, or curled up in a ball in the hallway. Thankfully he’s never injured himself, but that’s why I put up a gate at the top of the stairs, just in case. He seems to walk just fine in his sleep, making it all the way downstairs in the past. But it’s not a risk I’m willing to take. The last thing I want is him tripping down the steps and breaking his neck.