Chapter 75 Garrett
Garrett
If I thought I couldn’t possibly screw things up any worse than I already had last night, the universe clearly took that as a challenge.
Let’s review.
I walked out of Aslan’s recital like a coward. Then I spiraled on the shower floor like I was mental and kissed my best friend, thinking he was his boyfriend.
Which, for the record, is a spectacular new low.
After that little emotional breakdown, said best friend stayed the night in my bed. Something he had never done before in the entire history of our friendship. Normally Aitor vanished before sunrise like a vampire.
Honestly, I kind of appreciated him staying this time. He probably thought I couldn’t be trusted around razor blades on my own, but I called that unconditional love.
Unfortunately, the universe wasn’t done with me yet, because early the next morning, while I was still passed out, Trisha showed up, knocking on my door like a woman on a mission.
And like the absolute genius that I am, I opened it wearing nothing but my briefs.
Half asleep and barely functioning as a human being, it didn’t even occur to me that there was still a guy in my bed.
A shirtless guy, technically.
A very innocent, very brotherly situation that could absolutely be misinterpreted by the girl who currently believed she was my girlfriend.
So when Trisha walked in, kissed me, and then looked past my shoulder…
Well....
That’s when things got awkward.
“What the hell?”
I turned my head slowly, following her line of sight.
Then I saw Aitor sitting up in my bed.
For half a second, the memory of the night before slammed straight into my brain—the shower floor, the kiss, the spiral—but none of it made it to my face. I just looked back at Trisha like nothing in the world was strange about this situation.
“What?” I said lazily. “You’ve never seen two bros sharing a room before?”
Trisha crossed her arms. “I’ve seen bros share a room.”
Her eyes flicked toward the bed again.
“Not a bed.”
I shrugged. “There’s only one bed.”
Her eyebrow lifted. “Convenient.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I gave her a warning look.
Before she could answer, Aitor swung his legs off the bed and stood up, looking completely calm despite the situation.
“I’m pretty sure I should get going,” he said evenly. “Garrett had a rough night. I just stayed to make sure he was okay.”
Trisha didn’t move; she just looked between the two of us.
“So let me get this straight,” she said. “I walk in, you’re half naked, your best friend is in your bed, and I’m supposed to assume this is… what? A sleepover?”
I leaned against the doorframe and crossed my arms.
“Yeah,” I said flatly. “We were about to do our nails.”
Aitor grabbed his jacket from the chair, containing a chuckle.
“I really gotta split, bro; I have somewhere to be anyway,” he added calmly. “Happy Thanksgiving, Trisha.”
She stepped aside automatically as he moved toward the door.
When he passed me, he paused just long enough to clap a hand on my shoulder.
“Take it easy today,” he said quietly.
Then he left, the door closing behind him.
Trisha slowly turned back to me.
“Okay,” she said.
I looked at her. “Okay, what?”
She tilted her head slightly.
“I’m trying to decide if I just walked in on something weird… or if all your relationships are just that intense.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Well, you never even noticed me until I started hanging out with Aslan. Then you went from zero to a hundred overnight—not that I’m complaining.” She shrugged lightly. “And now the moment Aitor starts dating Aslan, you spend the night with him.”
Her reasoning was goddamn accurate, which immediately started to piss me off.
Then, just like that, the suspicion on her face melted into a playful smile. The girl really did switch moods like a broken light switch.
“I’m guessing my baby doesn’t like sharing attention,” she added, stepping closer. “Especially with his enemy… am I right?”
My enemy…
She wrapped her arms around my waist, pressing her boobs against me.
“You’re exactly right,” I whispered. This was my chance to turn this whole fiasco around and get things back on track.
I let my hands settle on her hips, forcing a smile I didn't feel. "I don’t like sharing attention." I continued, my voice rougher than I intended.
She just giggled, that high, annoying sound that usually made me want to leave the room. "Well, baby, you have all of my attention right now." Her fingers started tracing patterns on my stomach, dipping lower, teasing the waistband of my briefs. "Let me show you."
My body was a dead weight. I had to make this work. I had to make her believe. I gave a short, sharp nod, and that was all the permission she needed. She sank to her knees in one fluid motion, her bright red nails hooking into the elastic of my briefs and yanking them down. I stood there, totally naked, feeling exposed and wrong.
She looked up at me with hungry eyes before leaning in and kissing her way up my thigh. Her mouth was hot, but it did nothing for me. Then she took my cock in her mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut, my jaw clenching so hard it hurt. "Come on," I screamed at my own body. “Fucking react.”
I focused on the feeling, the wet heat, the suction. I tried to picture her, but the image wouldn't stick. My brain, the traitorous bastard, supplied another one. Aslan. On his knees. Those wide, shocked eyes. His swollen lips wrapped around me. The thought of him choking on my cock, of him looking up at me like that—
A jolt went through me. I started to get hard. Thank fuck. I shook my head violently, trying to dislodge the image of Aslan. This wasn't about him. This was about her. About proving I wasn't a fag to the entire world, and especially to Graves.
I grabbed her arms, hauled her to her feet, and spun her around. My hands were rough as I shoved her dress up over her ass. I found the thin scrap of her underwear and ripped it. The fabric tore with a satisfying sound. I didn't even take her dress all the way off. I just lined myself up and pushed inside her in one hard thrust.
She cried out, but it was lost in the grunt that tore from my own throat. I closed my eyes, shutting everything out. I didn't see her. I didn't see the room. I just felt the tight, wet heat and chased my own release. I fucked her hard, fast, and brutally, my hands gripping her hips so tight I knew I'd leave bruises. There was no romance, no gentleness. Just raw, angry fucking.
It didn't take long. The pressure built at the base of my spine, and with a final, guttural groan, I came, my whole body going rigid for a second before I slumped against her back. I could feel her shuddering beneath me, her own orgasm hitting.
The second it was over, I pulled out and stepped back. The silence was deafening. I gave her a brief, one-armed hug, my chest tight with a self-loathing so thick I could barely breathe.
"I'm gonna shower," I mumbled, already turning away. "I'll be ready to go in half an hour."