Thank fuck Matt was distracted as we played COD. I couldn’t get the session with Wrong out of my head. That had been the most intense and surreal experience of my life.
Most of my sessions on Kinksters were good in the sense that I got off, but I’d never lost touch with reality before. Wrong’s voice, his commands, and the way he’d made me participate had taken me to a place where only pleasure existed. I’d truly gotten out of my head, and that was freaking me the fuck out.
I was bi; I knew that. I’d figured that out as a teenager, but I’d always preferred women. I found tons of different types of girls attractive, but my taste in guys was extremely specific. Plus, I’d only hooked up with girls for the past three years and hadn’t felt like I was missing anything.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I was no stranger to being around same-sex couples, but none of them had ever sent pangs of longing through me. Not until Beck had started hooking up with Finn.
Maybe it was because I’d had a brief thing for Beck when we’d first met? He wasn’t my type, but the pull I’d felt toward him had been intense. I’d known he was meant to be a part of my life, and we’d clicked instantly.
That didn’t usually happen to me. I was… a lot. I also wasn’t an idiot. I knew I was emotionally stunted, too rash and impulsive, and could be obsessive when I was interested in something.
My brain liked to hyperfocus on things, whether they were a hobby, a new friend, or someone I wanted to fuck. The object of my desire became my entire world, and I learned everything I could about it, or, in the case of people, I tended to smother them with attention and freak them out.
Beck was one of the few people who’d never cared. He’d gone along with my weird plans, encouraged my obsessions, and actually listened as I compulsively shared my newfound knowledge with him. He’d been there to rein me in when I’d gotten a little too into something or someone, and he’d helped me focus in a world full of distractions.
He was my best friend and the closest thing I had to a sibling, and watching him devote the attention he used to have for me to Finn fucking sucked. And it hurt.
I understood Finn was his boyfriend and they were planning a life together, but I’d spent hours listening to him complain about how his BFF from high school had stopped having time for him when he’d hooked up with his current wife. Now Beck was doing the same thing to me, and I missed him.
“Fuck yeah!”
I jerked back to reality as my character was wasted by Matt’s. He shot me a big grin, his stupidly handsome face bright and his blue eyes sparkling.
Matt was hot, and I didn’t have to be bi to see that. With his blond hair, blue eyes, and ridiculously ripped body, he looked like he should be on the cover of a fitness magazine and not in our living room playing video games. Jocks didn’t do it for me, but I appreciated the view as his arm muscles bunched and flexed as he worked the controller.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” I tried for casual, but my voice came out a bit tight.
“You’ve just been… different lately.”
“Stressed.”
He nodded, his eyes still on the screen. “Yeah, I feel that. You’re on scholarship, right?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t bother telling him my grades weren’t stressing me out. My single-minded hyperfocus extended to my schoolwork and getting the fuck away from my past. That made it easy to maintain my GPA, even though the rest of my life was a mess. “You are too, right?”
“Yup. But not for my brain like you.” He sighed.
“You okay?” I stopped playing and turned my attention to him.
Matt was one of the most easygoing and happy-go-lucky guys I’d ever met. Nothing fazed him. But by the tight set of his jaw and the way his eyes were fixed on a point over the TV, something was wrong.
He opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. “Fine.”
Matt and I weren’t close, but we’d hung out a lot in the past few months, especially after Beck had ditched me for Finn. We didn’t talk about real shit, but he was my friend, and he was obviously struggling with something.
“Just so you know, when I ask someone if they’re okay, I’m actually asking. I know a lot of people toss it out to be polite and don’t want to hear the truth, but that’s not me.”
He swallowed hard. His indigo eyes were bright, his expression grim. “I’m not okay.”
I put my controller down. “What’s going on?”
He tossed his controller onto the couch next to him and raked his hand through his hair, tugging on the strands as he grunted in what sounded like frustration.
“I’m just so fucking stressed.” He kept his eyes on the coffee table in front of him. “Every time I turn around, someone is demanding shit from me. I have to be perfect at everything I do. Mistakes are failure, and failure is unacceptable.”
“That sounds like a lot of pressure. You want to talk about it?” I asked softly.
“I can’t do it anymore.” He ripped his hands out of his hair. Several blond strands remained trapped between his fingers.
Instinctively, I put my hand on his arm. “Breathe, Matt. It’s okay. Just breathe.”
He drew in several shaky breaths and pressed his white knuckles into his thighs.
“Good. Now focus on your shoulders and slowly let the muscles relax.”
He was still staring at the coffee table, but lowered his shoulders until they were in a more natural pose.
“That’s good. Now your arms. Just let the tension go.”
He did. His breathing slowed down and returned to normal, and his arm muscles relaxed.
“Now your hands,” I said softly.
He stared at them and slowly uncurled his fingers, the hair he’d pulled out fluttering to the floor.
His cheeks were pink, but his jaw was relaxed. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I sometimes get panic attacks.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. We all have our breaking points. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, but yes.” He shook his head and finally looked at me. “It’s just a lot. School, the team, the frat, my family, even my friends. Everyone expects me to be perfect, but I’m not perfect. It’s like no one actually knows me. They know the version of me they want to see, the one I’ve let them see.”
He sighed, the sound frustrated. “It’s like I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’ve spent so long being what everyone wants me to be, but it doesn’t feel real. Like it’s not me they’re seeing, but I have no clue how to be anything else.”
“I get that.” Hopefully my tendency to try and empathize with people when they were hurting didn’t make the situation worse. “It sucks when you have to hide your true self from the people you care about. Who are supposed to care about you.”
“It does.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Some days, it’s fine, but others, it’s too fucking much.”
A subtle cough near the stairs rang out. We whirled around. Eli, our fifth roommate, was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking uncharacteristically shy and a bit uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just coming downstairs and…” He bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”
“We were talking in a shared space.” Matt shrugged, even though a blush painted his cheekbones. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
“I guess. Look, I know we barely know each other, and that’s my fault.” He hesitated, his features tight. “But I’m observant, and from what I’ve seen, you’re a strong guy. And I don’t mean your body. I don’t know your circumstances, but eventually, you have to stop living for other people. I know that’s easy for me to say, and feel free to tell me to fuck off for sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. But the people who matter, the ones who truly care about you, will still be around when you show them your true self. The people who only like you because of what they think you are will only continue to drag you down.”
Eli blushed, which was fucking weird. The few times I’d spoken to him, he’d had an air of aloofness that screamed “stay away.” He wasn’t unfriendly, but he hadn’t made an effort to get to know any of us.
“Thanks. That helps.” Matt gave him a small smile. “You want to play with us for a bit?”
Eli glanced at the kitchen, then at us, indecision written all over his face. While Matt was hot in a rugged and all-American way, Eli was beautiful, almost ethereal.
His features were delicate, his big green eyes bright, and his full lips had a natural pout that was hard to look away from. Add in his slender body that wouldn’t be out of place on a runway and his thick and perpetually disheveled dark blond locks that framed his too-pretty face, and he was breathtakingly attractive.
Of course I’d end up in a house full of hot guys. Thank fuck none of them were my type.
“I have to get something to eat, but maybe when I’m done?” he asked, his voice small, almost seeking.
“Sure.” Matt grinned. “I could use a snack. Gotta keep the beast fed.” He patted his washboard stomach. “You want anything from the kitchen?” He flicked his gaze to me.
“Nah, I’m good.”
Matt stood and patted me on the shoulder as he passed. “Thanks for earlier.”
“Anytime.” I smiled.
I liked Matt, and hopefully, he would still like me the more of my true self I revealed. What he’d said had hit home, way harder than I’d ever admit.
I was a chameleon, always had been. I craved acceptance, and I didn’t need therapy to tell me why. Molding myself to match what others wanted me to be was second nature and a way to shield myself from rejection. If someone didn’t like the version of me I’d shown them, then it wasn’t me they were rejecting; it was a persona.
It still hurt, but my fucked-up brain was able to compartmentalize the pain and move on. The fact that Beck had rejected me after I’d shown so much of myself to him triggered all the crap I’d spent years repressing and brought it all back to the surface.
Shaking my head, I leaned back against the couch and stared unseeingly at the wall above the paused game still on the TV.
The twenty minutes I’d spent on the phone with Wrong were the calmest my brain had felt in months. He’d been… perfect. He’d pushed my boundaries but had been cognizant enough to know when it had been too much. He’d guided me, teased me, but had also listened to me.
Most days I felt like I was screaming into the void. Like everyone around me was too busy or inwardly focused to actually hear what I was saying.
Wrong might just be a dude on an app, but he’d been fully focused on me. He’d put all his attention on me. He’d made my pleasure his priority. I’d never had that. Usually, the chicks I sexted with told me all the things they’d make me do to them. How my purpose would be to please them, and that my needs were secondary.
I could get off that way, but I’d never been able to let go like I had with Wrong. I usually struggled to orgasm, both online and in person. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy sex—I did—I just had a hard time focusing.
Sounds distracted me. Sensations like the way my clothes rubbed against my skin or even a slight breeze hitting my body brought me out of the moment.
Dozens of thoughts raced through my head, most having nothing to do with the act I was currently engaged in. Homework assignments, grocery lists, even song lyrics and movie quotes were on a constant loop in my mind and dragged my focus away from my partner.
Most of the girls I’d had sex with had appreciated how I could go for a long time, but not all of them had accepted that I couldn’t always come. I made sure they got off, multiple times if possible, but they saw my inability to orgasm as a slight against them. I wasn’t attracted to them. I didn’t like them. I’d been thinking of someone else.
None of that was true, but how the fuck could I explain I was too distracted to be in the moment? That it had nothing to do with them and everything to do with how fucked up I was?
Laughter from the kitchen knocked me back to reality. I clenched my fists and forced myself to stop ruminating. The signs were there. I was in danger of falling into a spiral of self-deprecation and loathing that would eventually lead to me doing something stupid and reckless. I had to stop now before I hit that point of no return.
Needing to move, I jumped up and paced the perimeter of the room, hoping like hell Matt and Eli stayed in the kitchen for a few more minutes and didn’t find me doing laps like a weirdo.
I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, and panic flashed through me. I hurried to the dining room table and grabbed the pen I’d left there last night after a study session. Matt and Eli came out of the kitchen with plates and glasses in their hands, talking quietly and smiling.
Hopefully no one noticed my randomness, or that I was spiraling. I pasted on a cocky smile, or at least one I hoped didn’t look like a grimace, and sauntered back to the couch. Matt switched out of COD and loaded up Mario Kart.
I plopped down on the cushion, my mind racing, and picked up my controller. Thank fuck I could multitask.
