The Midas Touch

Ch. 23

Kai
Editor's note: happy New Year's Eve. Here's to 2024!

"I'm so sorry" he said with a crick in his voice. And then he was gone.

I groaned, leaning my head back against the locker room wall, absolutely baffled and ashamed. Fucking christ Midas, the mixed signals are killing me...But I guess I'm guilty of that too.

I wiped my nose with my sleeve, gathering up the strength to finally sort myself out. After all, I had to drive home and make a stop at Aunt Krista's. Audible and tangible heavy sigh.

At least this wasn't my dad's weekend. I swear I'm cursed with bad luck the way I make every situation ten times worse, and if it was his weekend that would just be the shit-covered cherry on top.

I stood up on shaky legs, stretching my muscles as I adjusted my shirt, boxers and pants. I gotta hand it to Midas, he's a fucking good top. I haven't bottomed since Zade, and I knew I was a switch, but I enjoyed that praise a little too much. 

Maybe power bottom fit me better.

Jesus, what the hell am I talking about? I'm screwing myself over and over again just thinking about queerness. If my asshat of a dad gets even a whiff of 'not straight', he'll tear into me, my mom will be disappointed, and my life will just turn upside down.

But goddamn if Midas isn't so delicious.

He's always on my mind. Constantly. 100% of the time. When I'm at practice, I'm thinking of the best way to get his attention. When I'm in school, I'm daydreaming of seeing him and his annoyed resting face.

When I'm at home, when I'm eating, when I'm hanging out with my friends, it doesn't matter. He's there, right at the forefront, a dumb sassy blonde that I've been absolutely whipped over since 8th grade.

Imagine my pure joy when I start to notice he's flirting with me. My pure wonder at how forward he was at that party, and my absolute euphoria when he continued to let me ravish and savor him.

I know I treat him shitty. And I feel so guilty about it. There is nothing I want more than to just cup his face and kiss him and hold him close and hide away from the world. But I can't.

Which is why I have to let him go.

The absolute irony is not lost on me. You'd think that now that I had a hold on him and we're compatible I'd fight for him and do anything to keep him with me, but I simply can't. It's too dangerous, too emotionally taxing, and honestly too hard.

Listen, he's a really good fuck. The best I've ever had in fact. And he's an amazing person, despite him being in a constant state of petty annoyance with me. He's cute, he's hygienic, and he's truly my dream guy. But...he's a guy. So I need to give him distance.

I sighed, my head against the headrest as I cruised down the highway. I cleared my throat and felt a burp coming up and I immediately gagged as soon as I let it exit, the vomit from earlier haunting me. Oh lord was that embarrassing.

I felt so guilty for spilling my guts (both literally and figuratively), but I seriously couldn't help it. I didn't want to treat Dazzy as my therapist, but a teenage boy can only hold so many emotions in at once.

I was just about to turn up my favorite song, Addictions by Lucy Dacus (queen), when my phone rang, the accept call yelling at me on my car's touchscreen.