The BL Nook

Lately, Josh and I have been getting close. Too close. He might even be my best friend now. Which is strange to admit. I already had one, Matt, back in Minnesota. We’ve been tight since middle school, but lately, we drifted. He’s got a wife and a kid now. He’s still there for me when I need to vent, and our hangouts turned into backyard beers while his daughter ran circles around us. That was friendship. Safe, expected.

My friendship with Josh, though… is different.

It’s out of character for me to hang out with someone this much. Even my past girlfriends didn’t demand this kind of time. We dated, we hung out, but there was always space. Boundaries. My longest relationship was in college. Two years, fun, passionate. It ended when she confessed she cheated. It sucked, but even then, I wasn’t sure I loved her. Maybe I’ve never been in love.

Maybe I’m just confused because I’ve let Josh in too far.

He’s annoying as hell, but I enjoy being around him. He’s the life of the party. It’s been three months since that night at the bar, and we’ve had a Friday night tradition ever since. I always crash at his place after, and by morning, he’s in the kitchen cooking me breakfast like a damn sitcom husband. Then we lounge around until he drives me home.

We text every day, mostly pictures of what we’re eating. It’s dumb, since we both meal prep but it’s become a thing. He sends selfies with filters, making exaggerated faces next to grilled chicken or a sad broccoli floret. I save them all. My phone gallery is full of his ridiculous, stupidly cute face.

Josh acts adorable, sure, but there’s a wicked edge to him. At bars, girls flock to us like we’re famous or something. He jokes around, flirts, and then zeroes in on someone. Next thing I know, he’s pressed against her, making out like it’s prom night. But the part that always gets me? He looks at me while he’s doing it. Like he wants me to see it. His eyes lock on mine as his hand slides down her back to grab her ass. It should feel like a competition. It doesn’t. It turns me on.

Every. Damn. Time.

I think he’s teasing me, one-upping me if you will. But it messes me up in the head. Sometimes I want him to do it, just so I can watch. Just so I can feel that heat creep through me again.

Lately, my morning shower routine has taken a strange turn. I still watch porn sometimes, sure. But more often… it’s just me, in my own head, thinking about Josh. Him and me, and some girl in the middle. All of us tangled up, our mouths meeting, switching, sharing. And then Josh grabs my face and kisses me. Deep, filthy, tongue-first. I always lose it there. Every single time.

I’ve never judged other guys for liking guys, but I never thought I’d be the one having these fantasies. I’ve never even thought about kissing a dude. But Josh? Josh is built different. He’s hot, anyone can see that. But it’s more than that. He makes me laugh, even when his jokes are stupid. He’s always smiling, always upbeat. I don’t think I’ve seen him not smiling. Even when we argue, he’ll throw on this smug grin. It makes me want to wipe it off his face, with my fist. I want to see what else he feels. What he really feels.

Today is Monday and I called in sick. My head’s pounding, my body’s weak, and I’ve been in bed all morning. I need medicine, but I don’t even have the strength to get up. I debated texting Josh. Just to see if he’d come. Part of me was sure he would. He’s that kind of guy. The type to drop everything and run to you.

I grabbed my phone, half-laughing at myself for even considering it. But when I opened my messages, there it was. His dumb filtered selfie, devil horns on his head, sucking down a protein shake. I saved it without thinking.

I took a pathetic-looking selfie from my bed, tried to look extra pitiful, and sent it with the message:
Sean: <I’m sick.>

I scrolled back and stared at his picture again. My chest fluttered. Do I really have feelings for this idiot?

Before I could spiral, I passed out.

When I woke up, my phone had blown up. Thirteen missed calls, eight messages from Josh.

Josh: <I’m wrapping things up now. I’ll be on my way!>
Josh: <Do you have medicine at home?>
Josh: <Nvm I’ll stop at the store and get you some>
Josh: <I’m at the store now. Got meds and food. Need anything else?>
Josh: <Sean? Are you alive?>
Josh: <Seeeeeaaaannnnn… answer my calls!>
Josh: <😡😡😡😡😡>
Josh: <Don’t worry, your hero will be there soon. Sleep tight!>

I choked on a laugh. Freaking maniac. And yet… butterflies. My heart was going a hundred miles per hour. I scrambled to clean up. Sweeping trash, spraying air freshener, brushing my teeth like I was prepping for a date.

Then he showed up. I quickly did a sniff check and opened the door.

Suited up like he just left a boardroom, bright smile on his face, grocery bags in both hands, laptop bag over one shoulder, and… flowers? Freaking flowers? If anyone saw this freakshow of a scene, they would think he was taking me out on a date.

I felt lightheaded for entirely the wrong reasons.

“Sean, even when you’re sick, you look cute. Your face is all flushed, go lie down. I got this.”

He didn’t wait. Just bulldozed into the kitchen like he lived here.

“W-why did you bring flowers?” I asked as I followed him.

He shrugged like it was nothing. “Housewarming gift. Sorry I didn’t have time to get you something better.”

He turned, placed his hands on my shoulders, and spun me toward my bedroom. “Go on. Get.” He walked me to the bed and tucked me in like I was a five-year-old.

“Did you eat?”

I gave a sheepish smile. “Not yet…”

“I’m making you soup. You’re not taking meds on an empty stomach.”

“Okayyy,” I practically purred.

Then he leaned in and kissed my forehead.

I froze.

That wasn’t nothing. Even for him.

I stared at the ceiling long after he left the room, my brain in full panic mode. How did he know where my apartment was? My bedroom? My kitchen layout? That kiss? I had too many questions and not enough answers.

I woke up again to the smell of something amazing and the soft sound of his voice on a phone call. When I opened the door, he was stirring a pot on the stove, his tie gone, sleeves rolled up, muscles flexing with every movement. He looked up and caught me staring.

“I gotta go,” he said into the phone and hung up.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

“How long was I out?”

“Five hours.”

“What have you been doing this whole time?”

“Oh, you know… this and that.” He gave a wink.

I slumped into a chair at the table, head resting on my arms. He walked over, placed a hand on the back of my neck. His hand was cold. It felt really good.

“You’re burning up. What are your symptoms?”

“Fever… chills.”

He went rifling through the bag of meds, talking the whole time. It was comforting. Familiar.

“The food’s ready.”

We sat together at the table. He watched me take the first bite like he was waiting for a review. I burned my mouth and immediately dropped the spoon.

“Too hot?” he grinned.

“It’s delicious! Just… yeah. Hot.”

Without a word, he got up and added ice cubes to my bowl. “There, you big baby. All better.”

Big baby?

We ate mostly in silence after that, but the air between us felt heavy. Charged.

As I rinsed my bowl, he crept behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder. His body was warm, solid. My pulse skyrocketed. He whispered, “Come on, go back to bed.”

He walked me to the bedroom, arms still around me, and tucked me in again.

“Where are you going?” I asked, holding his hand.

“To get your medicine.”

He returned, sat on the bed, handed me two pills and a glass of water. I took the medicine and chugged the water.

Then, suddenly, his thumb brushed my lips. “I need to make sure you didn’t burn yourself earlier.”

I blinked. “Huh-?”

He slid two fingers into my mouth. His other hand tilted my face up. His fingers guiding my tongue, stroking it gently like he was checking something but it didn’t feel that way. He pushed his fingers all the way in. I almost gagged. He was watching me. Studying me, as he clenched his jaw. He looked… hungry.

Saliva dripped down my chin.

He pulled his fingers out and whispered, “Looks like you’re okay.”

We both gulped. No one said a word.

He stood up and left, shutting the door softly behind him.

‘What the hell just happened?’

Later, I heard him moving around. Cleaning.

When he finally came back in, he thought I was asleep.

He undressed quietly, stripping down to boxers, then slid into bed beside me.

He always sleeps on his stomach, face turned toward me. But not tonight. 

I peeked through barely-opened eyes. He was already looking.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

“You were being loud.”

He smirked. “I feel like a single mom. I cooked, fed my baby and had a lot to clean up.”

I laughed, grateful and warm.

“Thanks… for everything. Didn’t mean to ruin your day.”

“Wasn’t ruined,” he said, sincere.

I started overheating again. Quietly, I kicked off my shorts, peeled off my shirt.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m hot.”

He didn’t say a word, he just licked his lips. 

I faced him in the dark.

“Good night.”

“Night, night.”

His gaze burned into me, but I kept my eyes shut. I didn’t want to know what it meant. Not yet at least.