Two Doms

This was a mistake. Oh god. No, no, no.

Nick pounded on the bathroom door, “Come on, dude! I need to take a shit!”

“Just a second!” I yelled. Nick groaned and stomped away. I looked back in the mirror with utter dread. 

Today was my first time displaying my art in public, and I wanted to do something special to celebrate. But this was a huge mistake. 

I was wearing makeup. 

And I looked awful.

I didn't know what I had done wrong! I had followed the tutorials exactly. I had bought all the exact makeup brands they recommended, even some stuff I had to order online ‘cause the mall’s selection was so limited. And it wasn't like I was going for some crazy dramatic glam look! I had deliberately opted for a subtle, understated look, some gentle contouring which I had blended in perfectly, a soft tinted lip gloss, light mascara instead of false lashes. I was being sensible! Even though big lashes would've looked great on me! My one concession to drama was adding a delicate wing to my eyeliner, which I had applied precisely using the steady hand I had developed during my painting.

But it was all too much.

You could still tell I was wearing makeup, was the thing. You could tell I was trying, that I desperately wanted to look pretty. And, okay, I did, kind of! But I didn't look pretty the way the girl in the video looked pretty. I looked like a pretty boy. Which should’ve been fine! I mean, I almost definitely was a boy. It’s just… makeup was one of the things that was supposed to make a difference. 

Nobody could see me like this. 

Nick pounded on the door again. I whipped it open and glared at him. 

“That wasn't five fucking minutes!” I said.

“It’s already on its way out, dude!” said Nick. He shouldered me out of the way.

“Ew!” I gasped, “TMI, Nick! Ew!”

He slammed the door behind him. I clasped my hands to my ears and yelled out, “Turn on the fan at least!”

“No shit!” said Nick. I could still hear him through the closed door and my covered ears, “Also you never even said five minutes! You said just a second!”

I groaned, “Obviously I didn't mean a literal second! It's, like, commonly understood that the standard amount of extra time is five minutes!”

“What the fuck? No it's not!”

“It's the social contract!” I said. Nick didn't reply. I cautiously removed my hands from my ears, and heard a relieved sigh and a splash, “Ew! Nick!”

“Give me some fucking personal space, okay!”

“Ugh,” I retreated to the couch and flopped down in a huff. By this point I was familiar enough with all the lumps and bumps to avoid bruising my tailbone again.

I wanted to take my makeup off and try again. Or maybe not even try again. Maybe I wouldn't even go to the showing. Maybe I was stupid for ever coming to this stupid school in the first place. Maybe I should just go back home and be a stupid straight guy like my father wanted in the first place. 

Unfortunately the choice was out of my hands right now. My makeup wipes were still in the bathroom. I wrinkled my nose. Ew. Did I even want to go back in there right now?

I curled up into a ball on the couch and moped. Stupid Nick. Everything in my life was his fault.

Nick finally finished up in the bathroom and opened the door.

“Hey, can you clean up your makeup stuff?” he said. 

“I was going to, obviously,” I scowled, “But I wasn't actually finished yet, obviously.”

“How is that obvious?” he said.

“Because I look fucking stupid right now,” I whined.

“Oh my god,” said Nick, “Not this shit again. You’re worse than Anika, and she's fourteen.”

“Hey!” I uncurled from my mope ball and glared at him, “Don't talk shit about Anika. She's cool.”

Nick rolled his eyes but didn't protest. Well, I was right. I had caught a few more Skype calls with Nick's family and Anika really was a lot cooler than her older brother. 

“Anyway, will you clean up?” Nick said, “Karl’s coming over soon, so...”

I groaned and hunched back into a ball. Nick had been spending more and more time with his irritating sprinter friend Karl recently, and it was really getting on my nerves. As well as being loud and obnoxious, Karl had this really smug, condescending way of talking to me. For some reason he really seemed to dislike me. Probably Nick poisoning him against me.

“No,” I pouted, “Tell Karl to go home. I'm gonna stay here on the couch. Maybe for the rest of my life.”

“What?” said Nick, “But you have your fucking art thing today! You've been talking about it for weeks!”

“Well I'm not going!” I whined.

Nick threw his arms up, “What the fuck? Is this because of the makeup?” 

I looked away, “No. It’s for more important reasons that you wouldn't get.”

“Fuck, Nick,” he said, “You wear dresses and skirts every day and now you're nervous about a little makeup?”

“I don't wear dresses and skirts outside!” I protested, “And you better not be telling people about that!”

“Yeah, somehow I manage to avoid discussing your fucking outfits in my spare time,” said Nick. He sighed, “Come on dude, they're all a bunch of dumbass artists. You shouldn't give a shit what they think.”

I flushed red. The problem was, I was starting to feel like maybe I really did give a shit what they thought. Miel and Kermit and the rest of the studio people weren't dumbass artists. They were cool artists. And even though they had never said anything about the subtly feminine clothing I wore, I was worried that makeup would be pushing it too far. It was cool when they experimented with gender presentation, but maybe that was just because they were cool. I wasn't cool at all. I was just a pathetic little perv.

I didn't say anything, I just turned my head away again. 

Nick groaned, “For fuck’s sake. Look at me,” he snapped his fingers in my face, “Hey. Nick. Look at me.”

I scowled and looked up at him. He leaned forward, craning way down to study my face. I waited cautiously, unsure what he was doing.

He nodded firmly, “Yep. Looks good. You look real pretty or whatever. Come on, let's go.”

He grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. I squealed, “Nick! What the fuck!”

“Come on!” he said brusquely, “Grab your shit. We’re going to your art thing.”

“Ow! No!” I said, “Just… okay, I'll go. It's fine. You stay here and play with your stupid friend.”

“Nice try,” said Nick, “You're gonna run off and hide in the library or something. Nah, I'm walking you there.”

I blushed. That was pretty much what I had been intending to do. Nick dug his phone out of the pocket of his old grey hoodie and fired off a text.

“There,” he said, “I told Karl to gimme a half hour. Look, Nick. I know you’re nervous, and I know you don’t really like talking about this stuff. But trust me, you look completely fine right now. You look great, actually. And I get that it’s a fucking, like, artistic statement or whatever. But I see how much happier you are when you dress up and shit. And fuck, dude, if nothing else, it makes my life easier when you’re not in a shitty mood. So just suck it up, okay? Let’s go to the art thing, cause I know you’ve been looking forward to it, and if anyone gives you shit about wearing makeup…”

“You’ll beat them up?” I said quietly.

“I was gonna say we rat on them to Lucy or something,” Nick shrugged, “But yeah, fuck it. I’ll beat them up.”

I smirked to myself. I would never condone violence, of course, but the idea of using Nick as my personal enforcer did sound pretty appealing. I bit my lip in quiet contemplation. 

“Come the fuck on!” said Nick, “Let's fucking go!”

***

Nick insisted on walking me all the way to the studio, and he spent the whole time texting. I was still nervous about wearing makeup in public, but I didn't get many odd looks. But we didn't pass anyone I knew. The closer we got to the studio, the more butterflies I felt in my stomach.

Nick laughed at something on his phone.

"What's so funny?" I said, "Are you and Karl making fun of me?"

"No," Nick scowled, "Not everything is about you."

"So you two never make fun of me," I said suspiciously.

"I didn't say that," said Nick.

When we got to the studio, the big roller door on the side was open, and there were already people milling around. Mostly students, but I recognised some professors and other adults who I assumed were just interested patrons of the arts. Probably there for Kermit specifically. Over the past few weeks I had learned that he was already making a name for himself in the art scene. The controversy over his last painting definitely helped.

"Oh, shit," said Nick, "This is actually kind of legit. There's, like, rich people here. And smart people."

"That's right," I said smugly, "Not everyone is obsessed with sports, you know. Some people have an interest in exploring the cultural milieu."

"God, you talk weird sometimes," Nick said. He looked around, "So one of these is yours?"

I blushed, "I mean, yes. But mine is just off in a corner, you know. I'm not really, like, a proper artist."

"Sure," said Nick, "Well, I should probably--"

"Dom! Oh my gosh, you look so good!" Miel squealed, running up and almost tackling me off my feet with a hug. I giggled and hugged her back. She gasped, "And Big Dom! I didn't know you were an art enthusiast. Or are you here to support Little Dom?"

"Please don't call us that," I muttered, "And it's neither, actually. He was just leaving."

"Nah, I can stay for a while," said Nick, "I love exploring the cultural milieu. I've always said that."

"Hmm," Miel wrapped an arm around my shoulder and smirked at me, "You know, I think Little Dom mentioned that. He talks about you a lot."

"God! No I don't!" I said, "Nick, I thought you were meeting Karl?"

Nick hesitated, glancing back and forth from me to Miel, "That's true..."

"Oh, I'm sure he can wait a few minutes," Miel bounded forward and took Nick's hand, glancing back at me with a puppy-eyed pout, "And Little Dom, do you really want to hide all of your friends' beautiful artwork away from an interested visitor? Do you want us to die unknown and penniless?"

I groaned. Once Miel snapped into guilt trip mode I knew there was no winning.

"Fine," I said, "But just a quick look around, okay? Then you gotta get out of here."

"Sure thing," Nick grinned, and let Miel lead him into the studio. I followed behind in a huff. This was the last thing I wanted to happen.

At each artwork, Miel would push me in front of Nick and get me to explain the meaning and significance. I was sure Nick was only going along with this so he could try and flirt with Miel. I couldn't blame him, really. Usually she dressed very practically, in sturdy jeans and a t-shirt advertising one of the many social causes she was involved with, but today she was dressed up fancy for the showing. She was wearing heels (which made her a little taller than me, and made me a little jealous) and a tight black turtleneck. She looked very professional, very artsy, and undeniably attractive. But I didn't want Nick looking at her that way! She was my friend! Kinda! For now!

Still, I did my best to explain each artwork. After all, the artists had worked hard, and I wanted to make sure Nick understood the significance of their work. Surprisingly, he was actually pretty attentive, nodding along and asking some decent follow-up questions. He didn't make fun of me once. At least, not out loud. I did catch him smirking when I got a bit too animated explaining Mateus's wireframe sculpture. I caught myself and glanced at Miel, who was watching on in amusement. I reigned it in after that. Mother had taught me that I should keep my excitement to myself. Nobody liked a noisy brat.

I had just finished explaining Shawnee and Jess's piece, Renaissance Dyke, when Miel got a text and had to hurry off.

"Kermit's about to unveil his piece!" she said.

"Oh, I'm sure you're excited for that," I smirked.

"His sculpture, you perv," she waved me away, "Bye, Big Dom! Thanks for supporting the arts!"

"Any time," said Nick, "This has been some great, uh, milieu."

I rolled my eyes. If Nick ever had to attend a proper high society event, he was toast. Miel sped away. I put a hand on my hip and looked up at Nick with disdain.

"Well, you can go play with your little friend now," I said.

Nick blinked, then scowled, "Yeah, thank god. Can't believe I've wasted this long hanging out with you."

"You're the one who insisted on—oh, whatever," I said, "I don't want to make a scene right now. Thank you for not acting like a complete jerk in front of Miel, anyway. But don't think you have a chance with her, alright? I already warned her about you."

"Whatever," Nick shrugged, "Hey, before I go... which one of these paintings is yours, anyway?"

"Oh," I blushed, "I mean, like I said, it's just off in a corner. I'm not really an artist, they just let me show it because I'm here a lot. It's not very good or anything. It's really not worth your time..."

I couldn't help glancing over at my painting as I spoke. Everything I was saying was true, it really was just a dumb little hobby piece, but I was still embarrassingly proud of it.

Nick followed my eyeline and gasped, "Holy shit, is it that one?"

"Oh god," I said. He was already striding off towards it and I had to hustle after him to keep up, "Just remember I never had any lessons, okay? And I wasn't planning to display it, I don't actually think it's any good..."

"Holy fucking shit," said Nick, stopping in front of my painting with his eyes wide. He looked at me, "I don't believe this."

"Quiet!" I hissed. People were turning to look at us. Why did he have to be so loud? “I already said it was bad, okay?”

Nick turned back to my painting and ran his eyes over it. My stomach turned. I felt just as exposed as I did that one time he walked in on me shaving my legs. At least when that happened I was eventually able to parlay it into a sexual experience. I couldn’t imagine that was about to happen now. 

Nick shook his head slowly, “Dude… this is fucking sick.”

I blushed, “Really?”

“Hell yes, dude,” he said, “Look at that shit.”

I did look at it, although I'd spent so long working on it that it was basically burnt into my memory. It was a tree, really, that was all. Just a big tree, like one of the old oaks that surrounded the campus. Except it wasn’t made of wood. It was made of hands, dozens of hands, twined together and splitting out into long outstretched branches, reaching to the sun. That was all. It was a pretty simple idea, and pretty dumb honestly, but it had just occurred to me one day and once I started painting I just kept going, trying to get the anatomy of the hands perfect, trying to capture the way light filtered through the outstretched fingers like the leaves of a tree.

“Can you explain it to me?” said Nick.

I shrugged, “I don't know. It's just, like, a tree with a bunch of hands on it.”

“No, dude,” Nick said, “Explain it like you were explaining all the other ones. Like the meaning and stuff. Why you painted it the way you did.”

“Well,” I hesitated. Nick's eyes were glued to the painting again, poring over the details with fiery intensity. I was almost worried his gaze would strip the paint from the canvas. “I don't know, what does it say to you?”

Nick frowned, “I think… the hands up here, right? They're all reaching out for something. They're all reaching up. Like there's something up there they want.”

He glanced at me, uncertain. I nodded encouragingly. 

“But down here,” he pointed lower down, where the base of the trunk met the gnarled roots, “These hands, they're all grabbing onto each other. Like they're tryna pull the other hands down. Like, look at this hand, you can see the fingers are digging into the other guy’s wrist. Uh, the other hand. ‘Cause the skin has the little, like, indentations.”

He grimaced, “I mean, you already know that. You painted it.”

“No, you're right,” I said, “And, um… what do you think that means? To you?”

Nick titled his head. His eyes glazed over a bit, like he was thinking about something much farther away than the painting.

“I think… they all make up the tree, right? All these little things, they're all part of this one big, uh, thing,” he nodded slowly, “And some of them are reaching up, tryna help the tree grow. And some of them are pulling down, stopping the tree from growing. But there's this point,” and he gestured at the trunk, “Where it's all tangled together, y'know? And you can't tell what stuff is helping you and what stuff is holding you back…”

He trailed off. His shoulders slumped a little. I almost wanted to reach out for him, but I held back.

“...but it all makes up the tree,” he said slowly, “And maybe if you tried to untangle it, the whole thing would fall apart.”

For a moment, we just stood there. My heart raced in my chest. That wasn't exactly what I had been thinking when I started painting. At least, I hadn't realized it was. But everything Nick said was hitting disturbingly close to home. 

Nick coughed, shaking himself out of his reverie, “Anyway. Yeah. Was it something like that?”

“Something like that, yeah,” I said.

Nick shook his head, “And they made you hide this over here in the corner? It's the best fucking thing here.”

“Oh! Well,” I blushed, “I mean, you know. The technique is pretty, um, amateurish…”

“The technique?” Nick scowled, “One of those paintings was just a big red blob. Did you show this to Kermit?”

“Um,” I said, “Yes. He, um. He wasn't that impressed.”

The truth was, Kermit had been complimentary about my brushwork, and about my study of anatomy. But when I tried to explain what it meant to me, he waved it off. He already got it, he said. Daddy issues. Which was, really, pretty much correct. It felt pretty stupid when he summed it up that bluntly, though. 

Nick rolled his eyes, “Fucking Kermit Tsu.”

“Welcome, esteemed guests!” a bright voice rang out. We turned. 

Miel was up on the stage, speaking into a megaphone. Beside her was Kermit, almost nude once again. His body was wreathed in tattoos, including the now well-healed Big iPhone on his thigh, foreshadowing the reveal of his latest piece. For some reason, he had tape over his mouth again.

“This fucking guy,” Nick muttered.

Kermit’s sculpture stood proudly in center stage, covered with a red cloth in preparation for its dramatic reveal. 

Miel spoke for a few minutes, thanking all the guests for attending, and congratulating the artists on their work. Nick and I clapped along. Finally, she gestured towards Kermit’s covered sculpture.

“I know many of you are aware of the controversy surrounding this artist’s last piece,” she said, “And to avoid creating further controversy, Kermit Tsu will not be speaking today. His art will speak for itself.”

Kermit nodded sagely and the crowd applauded.

“As you may know, as part of Kermit’s scholarship, the university is obliged to pay for any art supplies required for his projects,” Miel said, “His latest project required a block of marble, one by one by two meters in size. Including shipping and handling costs, it cost the university over two thousand dollars, and Kermit believes he has given them the artwork they deserve. He presents to you now, Big iPhone.”

Kermit stepped aside. Miel placed down her megaphone and hurriedly untied the cover and pulled it away with a flourish. 

A big white iPhone towered over the audience. Professors and students and wealthy guests alike stared up at it in awed silence. 

“What the fuck?” Nick said loudly.

“Nick!” I hissed.

“Are you fucking serious?” he said. His voice rang out over the hushed studio. I grabbed his arm and dragged him away. The audience broke into a hubbub behind us, and I could only hope they were discussing the meaning and merits of Kermit's piece, not the loud oaf who yelled out about it. I pulled Nick outside the studio before he could embarrass me any further.

“I can't believe you just did that,” I snapped, “The second I thought you were actually appreciating art…”

“Are you fucking kidding?” said Nick. He looked apoplectic with rage, “You call that shit fucking art? He made a fucking phone out of marble!”

“Well jokes on you, idiot, because it's actually subversive,” I said, “It's supposed to be bad, the whole point is that it's wasting money.*

“The fucking point is that it's wasting money?” Nick yelled.

“Shh! People can hear us!”

“This is unbelievable, Nick. This is fucking unbelievable,” Nick growled, “This is what that fucking asshole is doing? With the fucking opportunity he's been given? How many fucking hundreds of people would kill to get a college scholarship, and he's fucking around and making art that sucks shit on purpose?”

I scoffed, “You don't get it, Nick…”

“No, you don't fucking get it!” said Nick, “Maybe two thousand bucks is fucking nothing to a rich asshole like you, but I work my ass off and I don't make that much fucking money in a month.”

“God!” I hissed. I grabbed at Nick's wrist, hoping it would ground him a little, quiet him down, “If you need money so bad–”

“That's not the fucking point, Nick!” he wrenched his arm away and started pacing furiously back and forth, “You know, I get a fucking stipend as well, alright? For athletic supplies and shit. But I don't use it! Cause that money should be going to someone who needs it!”

“What?” I gasped, “Nick! That money is for you! You could be buying a fucking arm that fits!”

“My arm is fine!” Nick snapped, “Don't worry about my fucking arm!”

“You're being so fucking dumb right now,” I said.

“No!” he whirled around on me, “You know what's fucking dumb? You hanging out at this fucking studio for two months like you're Kermit Tsu’s fucking cheerleader! Don't you remember the whole reason you started this shit in the first place? You're meant to be getting this fucking asshole out of my room!”

“I'm working on it!” I protested. 

“It's time to get fucking serious, Nick,” Nick stepped towards me, looming over me. His voice was low and dark, “These people are not your friends. Remember what you're doing here.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

Nick glared at me for a moment longer, then stepped back, digging his phone out of his pocket again.

“Great,” he muttered, “It's been like an hour. I'm meant to be meeting Karl already.”

He walked off without another word and didn't look back. 

I leaned against the wall and choked down a sob. Fucking Nick. I didn't even want him here in the first place. Why did he have to ruin everything? 

He was right, though, wasn’t he? I was being dumb, procrastinating finding dirt on Kermit because I wanted to paint stupid pictures and pretend I had friends. But my heart ached at the thought of ending things. I didn't want to stop painting, and I didn't want to betray the people who had been so nice to me. 

For a few minutes I just leaned against that wall, trying and failing to fight back tears. Eventually I managed to regain my composure, wiped my face and headed back inside.

The crowd had dispersed around the studio again, and Miel was standing by the coffee machine, chatting to Jess. She excused herself and came running over when she saw me.

“Dom!” she said, voice awash with concern, “Are you okay?”

I nodded stiffly, “Absolutely. I think this showing has been a great success, don't you?”

Miel’s brow furrowed, “Dom, your mascara is running.”

“God damn it,” I whimpered. Somehow, in all the commotion of the day, I had forgotten I was even wearing makeup. But Miel had clearly noticed the whole time, and she hadn't said anything. Except, I remembered dimly, that I looked good.

“It's okay!” Miel soothed, “Jess? Can you help us out for a second?”

I tensed up at the idea of another person seeing me like this. But Jess didn't say anything mean either. When she saw my smeary face, she grabbed her backpack and the two girls ushered me to the bathroom. The women’s bathroom, I noticed dimly. 

“For real, Dom, don't worry,” Jess said as she was cleaning my face, “This happens to me all the time. I had a legit breakdown during a lecture the other day, I looked like I was melting.”

I sniffled, “Thanks, Jess.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Miel asked softly.

“Not really...”

“Was it something to do with, um, with Nick?”

I shrugged, “Kind of…”

Miel gave Jess a meaningful look. Jess rolled her eyes.

“Fuck that asshole,” she said, “If he's giving you shit, you can come stay with me and Shawnee, okay?”

I couldn't help but smile a little at that. I would never be so rude as to intrude like that, especially on a nice gay couple. But I appreciated the offer. 

“That's not fair,” Miel protested, “How come I never get invited over?”

“Because you're high-strung and annoying,” Jess said pleasantly, “And Dom is chill.” 

I blushed. That was a pretty rare assessment of me. I really didn't feel like I'd earned it. 

“Thanks Jess,” I said again. I tried to stay still as she delicately reapplied my mascara, “Um. I showed him Renaissance D-Word, by the way. He thought it was really cool.”

“I guess even assholes are right sometimes,” she sighed. She straightened up and nodded approvingly, “Done!”

“Aw, yay,” Miel smiled, “All pretty again.”

I burst into tears.

***

I spent the rest of the day thinking about what Nick had said. He was an asshole, Jess was right. That was why I needed him gone… but to get rid of Nick, I needed to get rid of Kermit. That meant getting rid of my art friends, and it was getting increasingly hard not to think of them as real friends. If I was totally honest, Miel was probably the closest friend I'd ever had. The thought of hurting her made my stomach turn.

On the other hand, no more Nick meant I could experiment freely with being… with dressing up like a girl, and maybe even hooking up with guys. Guys I actually liked. But maybe… maybe I didn't need to be alone to try that stuff? My friends accepted me for who I was. At least, they did for now. That would all change when I got Kermit kicked out.

If I got Kermit kicked out…

I finished taking my makeup off and eyed myself in the mirror. I played with my hair thoughtfully. It was really starting to get long. Maybe it was time for a haircut. Would I look good with bangs?

“Hey,” Nick said roughly, “I need the shower.”

I rolled my eyes and packed up my stuff. Nick had come home very late from his playdate with Karl. I didn't want to ask what they were getting up to. Running in circles, probably. Or throwing rocks at cars. Stupid jock boy crap like that. 

I changed into my nightie and climbed into bed. After a while, Nick joined me, shirtless and still slightly damp. I swear, he never dried himself off properly.

His lean, muscular body looked good, though. And with my head still swirling with confusion, I needed something simple and fun.

I wriggled onto my knees.

“I'm gonna suck you off, okay? Just this one time.” I said. It was more of a statement than a question. If there was one thing Nick was good for, it was producing a hard cock on command.

“Uh,” Nick hesitated, “Not tonight.”

“Ha, ha,” I said, “Don't be a dick, come on.”

I reached for his waist, but he caught my hand and gently pulled it away.

“No, seriously,” he said, “I’m good.”

I scowled, “Seriously? Is this because of Kermit Tsu? I told you, I'm working on it. Don't be a baby.”

“No, dude,” Nick said, “I, uh. I don't think I want to do that anymore.”

I sat back on my heels and stared at him. He looked away guiltily, but didn't say anything more. 

“You're kidding,” I said, “You're seriously going to be that petty about this?”

“That's not…”

“No, really,” I said, my voice getting heated, “I get that you just love suffering for no reason, because you're such a big tough manly man, but this is a new fucking low, Nick. You're actually denying yourself blowjobs because you want to teach me some kind of stupid lesson–”

“That's not it, okay!” said Nick, “I'm talking to someone!”

I stopped.

“Like… a therapist?” I said, “I mean, probably a good idea, but…”

“No,” Nick scowled, “I'm, fucking, talking to someone, y'know, romantically. Like maybe there might be something there. So I don't think we should be, y'know. Doing stuff.”

I gaped at him. Someone was interested in Nick romantically? Now that was hard to believe.

“Oh my god,” I said, “You better not be talking about Miel. Because I already told you she's off limits.”

“Yeah, you made that fucking clear,” Nick said, “Which is pretty fucking unfair, by the way, cause I'm the whole reason you even met her in the first place. But fine. Whatever. She's off limits. Anyway, it's not her.”

“So who?” I said suspiciously.

Nick shrugged and looked away. Asshole. I knew he was lying.

But before I could say anything, I noticed a dumb dorky smile creep over his face.

“Nick,” I said slowly, “Who is it?”

“It’s Karl,” he said. 

My jaw dropped, “You're gay?”

Nick turned back to me with a look on his face that was equal parts confusion and disgust.

“What the fuck?” he said, “You're really gonna get homophobic with me? You?”

“I'm not homophobic!” I protested, “I just… I'm surprised, is all.”

“How can you possibly be surprised I like dudes?” Nick said, “You’ve sucked my dick, like, thirty times.”

“Ew!” I said, “Not thirty.”

“It was at least…” Nick narrowed his eyes, flexing his fingers as he counted in his head. I felt nerves creeping in. Surely it wasn't thirty. The first time was only a couple of months ago. My eyes locked on Nick's hand as his fingers flexed through sets of five after five.

“...that one night you did it twice…” Nick murmured.

“Alright, alright!” I said, “Maybe it was a few times. But I thought it was, like, you know. Prison rules.”

Nick's jaw dropped, “What.”

“Well, you know!” I waved my arms, “We’re both cooped up in here! Stuff happens! It doesn't mean we’re gay!”

“God,” Nick groaned, “You're so fucking weird, Nick. Anyway, I'm not even gay. I'm, like… you know. I like girls too.”

“Bisexual?” I said.

Nick shrugged, “Yeah, sure. Whatever you wanna call it.”

“I mean, you call it bisexual,” I said, “Cause that's what it's called.”

“Fucking excuse me,” Nick said, “I didn't realise you love labels so much. I thought maybe it was different in prison.”

I scowled and flopped back into bed.

“So you seriously want to date Karl,” I said.

“I don't know,” Nick shrugged, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” I said, “You're turning down a blowjob because maybe you want to date Karl. Karl. The one guy more annoying than you.”

“First of all, you're the last person who should be calling anyone else annoying,” said Nick, “And, yeah. Maybe. He's cool.”

I scoffed, “Whatever. I'm going to sleep.” 

I pulled the blankets up and turned away from him. Nick grunted and leaned down to flick off the lights.

Karl. As if. Nick might be an asshole, but surely even he wasn't actually that stupid. No, it was very clear what this was. He was making an excuse to withhold his dick from me as some kind of insane punishment.

Well, fine. If he wanted to do that, he was only punishing himself. I would play along until he finally gave in and came crawling back. Nick could act high and mighty, but sooner or later he would give me what I wanted.

I gave it one day, tops.