Crash: M/M Straight to Gay First Time Romance by Jerry Cole Read Free Book Online Page A

Are you going to help me out here or not?” I am using the pissiest voice I can muster because, for some unknown reason, my little monster is not completely averse to the idea of Reid Cummings touching me. I painted myself into this corner; I am just praying that Reid is offended enough to leave me a way out of it.
    He examines my naked body, scars and all, pressing his lips together until they become a thin, pale line in his face. Then he walks towards me. Oh shit! I hold my breath as I try to find ways to make this situation not happen. I can’t just yell “hey I was just kidding around, please don’t touch my penis.” That would mean admitting defeat, and I have no intentions of doing that. 
    To my surprise, he bends down until his lips are an inch from mine, and then he smiles.
    “You are an asshole; you know that?” he says, helping my wet ass out of the tub and into my chair. Throwing towels around my shoulders and across my lap, he wheels me out of the bathroom. That is almost more humiliating than admitting that I had been joking.
    And I had been joking. Those feelings, those thoughts, were a thing of the past. There was nothing tender or soft in my heart these days. Especially when it came to tall, burly mountain men who rescue me and make my dinner and buy my overpriced peppermint shampoo as a gift to cheer me up. Nope, who would be impressed by something like that?
    “So did I pass the test?” he asks as he helps me change into pajamas.
    “Who said I was testing you?”
    “Did you want me to help you jerk off?”
    “No,” I say a little too fast to be believable.
    “It’s cool if you did. We all did some pretty crazy things in college. Circle jerks were practically a team building exercise. I just didn’t think you were serious about it,” Reid says, sounding way too cool and liberal.
    “So you just whip it out for anybody who asks, as long as they are serious,” I say, annoyed by the idea of Reid standing around with a bunch of guys with his genitals in his hand.
    “Not exactly. I am just saying I am not a homophobic hick. So if you are gay or bi or whatever, you don’t have to lie to me. You can just be yourself,” he says.
    “Can I ask you something? Your accent isn’t from around here, and other than the nurses in the hospital I don’t think this place is a beacon of enlightenment and inclusivity. So where are you really from?”
    “New Jersey. I moved out here to be with my sister and get a fresh start,” he said. There was that honesty again.
    “Get a fresh start to what?”
    “I did some things I wish I hadn’t done. I hurt a lot of people. I did some time in detox and then rehab, and I needed to turn my life around. So, I moved,” he says. His face darkens, and his eyes get a faraway look as he talks.
    “You hurt people?” I doubt he will admit to what he did. He walked away so confidently. He ran away.
    “There was a guy-”
    “The one I remind you of?”
    “Yeah, him…”
    “What was his name,” I ask because I want to believe that he forgot. He was the only person in that school who knew my name, and I wish he would forget it.
    “Liam. His name was Liam.”
    “And?”
    “I wasn’t a nice guy back then. I hurt a lot of people, but I think I hurt him the most.”
    He did. Of all the people who hurt me, he hurt me the most. He ran away when I needed him, and he didn’t look back. No matter how sexy and kind he appears, I have to keep reminding myself that that is who he is. A coward.
    “Why?” I wanted to ask that question for years. Why would you do that to me? I thought we were friends. I thought you were different. I obviously thought wrong.
    “I don’t know,” he says, and it’s the first time in all of these weeks that I am sure he is lying to me. Those three words burn through me as I try to get control over my temper. He remembers me; he just can’t recognize me. Am I really so different? Have I changed so much? Maybe it’s just easier for him to