Chapter 3: Locked Doors and Loud Thoughts Tim POV

I bolted upright, stood there stark naked, frozen like a deer staring down a truck's headlights, Jack just lounging in that damn armchair, newspaper crumpled over his lap, eyes pinning me like a bug on a board. That bulge in his jeans screamed loud, bold, impossible to miss, and my throat turned to sandpaper, words choking somewhere deep in my chest. He tilted his head, smirked, just a twitch, "So, how'd the party go, Tim?" he said again, voice low and steady, like I wasn't bare-assed in front of him.

I didn't answer, just ran, feet slapping hardwood, racing upstairs, face burning hotter than a stove, shame clawing my insides like a feral cat. Slammed my bedroom door, twisted the lock hard, click-click, leaned against it, chest heaving. What the fuck was that? Jack sitting there, staring like some creep, not saying shit about it? I grabbed boxers off the floor, yanked them on, fabric catching on damp skin, snatched a t-shirt from the dresser, tugged it over my head fast, like it could armor me from whatever the hell just went down.

I restlessly paced the room, kicked a stray sock, toe stubbing the bedframe, mind a tangled wreck. That look in his eyes, it wasn't just "oh, hey, you're naked", there was weight, heat, something that punched me square in the gut. I stopped by the window, peeked out, street empty, morning sun glaring off car roofs, blinding. Did he feel it too? That pull, that slow simmer I'd been choking down every time he brushed past me in the hall, every time his gravelly voice rumbled through the house? I'd buried it, shoved it deep, because saying it out loud, admitting I wanted Jack, meant kicking open a door I'd nailed shut years ago.

Never told a soul I was gay, not even a whisper to myself in the dark. Growing up here, you hear it all, "fags" hissed in locker rooms, "queers" scrawled on gas station walls, sticks like tar. Seen guys get roughed up for less, names scratched into stalls, threats carved in sharpie, so I kept it locked, played it off with shrugs, "Nah, I'm just not into anyone" lies. But Jack, he'd been creeping into my head for months, rough hands fixing the sink, crooked grin over breakfast, leaning close when he talked, breath warm. And now, that bulge, proof it wasn't just me dreaming shit up.

Flopped onto the bed, stared at the ceiling, fingers raked through my damp hair, tugging roots, a tic when I'm spiraling. Phone buzzed on the nightstand, harsh jolt through the quiet, I grabbed it, Lisa's name glowed, tossed it back down like it burned. No way, not after last night, whatever fucked-up mess that was. It buzzed again, then again, relentless as a jackhammer, I ignored it, rolled onto my side, curled tight, pillow mashed against my chest like I could hide from the world. Jack's face kept flickering, those eyes, that smirk, my dick twitched, damn traitor, I groaned, yanked the pillow over my head, tried to smother it all.

House creaked, sat up fast, ears straining, footsteps thudded below, front door swung open, slammed shut. Crept to the window, peeked through blinds, Jack climbed into his truck, engine snarled, tires spitting gravel as he peeled out. Relief washed me, he was gone. Unlocked my door, stepped out slow, half-expecting him to materialize, living room empty, his paper still a crumpled heap on the chair. Snagged it, flipped pages absently, mind stuck on him, those jeans, that look.

Phone went off again, vibrated hard, slid off the nightstand with a clatter, I sighed, scooped it up, Lisa, five missed calls piling up. Stared at the screen, thumb hovered over decline, something snapped, I hit answer, jammed it to my ear, "What?" I barked, sharp, pissed.

"Hey, sexy," she purred, voice dripping honey and venom, "Do you even miss me yet?"

"Not a fucking bit," I said, paced back to my room, shut the door soft, "What the hell do you want, Lisa?"

She laughed, low, throaty, slithering through the line, "Thinking about last night. You were wild, Tim, all over me, couldn't keep those hands off. Bed's still warm, you know."

I froze, phone creaked in my grip, "You're full of shit, I don't remember jack, and you know why."

"Oh, come on," she teased, dragging it slow, "You loved it, I can still feel you, hard, hot, pressed tight. Best fuck I've had in forever."

"Stop it," I snapped, kicked the bedframe, wood thumped, chest squeezed tight, anger boiling, "You did something shady and I know it, that drink,"

"Relax," she cut in, mocking, syrupy, "You wanted it, I saw it in your eyes, even if you're too chickenshit to admit it. Bet you're stiff just thinking about it now."

I wasn't, not from her, Jack's bulge flashed instead, cursed low, shoved it down, "You're twisted, Lisa, I don't know your game, but I'm out."

Her laugh spiked, grating, nails on glass, "Oh, Timmy, you're too easy to wind up, I've got pics, us tangled, sweaty, bare, wanna see?"

"Stay the fuck away," I said, voice dropped low, steel-edged, "Don't call, don't come near me, or I'll make you sorry."

She kept laughing, wild, unhinged, like I hadn't said shit, "You're cute when you're pissed, see you soon, lover boy."

Then the call ended, I knew she was a wild card and I has risked going to the party with her. Now it ended up with both of us on the same bed stark naked. If Lisa is Lisa, this will come up sometime soon again, I hope to be prepared when it comes to that.

I threw the phone on the dresser, cracked the edge, her cackle rang in my skull, pissing me off more. Paced hard, tugged my hair, skin prickling hot, Lisa was a liar, a puppet-master, I knew her tricks, but her words burrowed, twisting doubt tight. Pictures? Bullshit, probably, but it gnawed anyway. Then Jack, downstairs replayed, him watching, silent, the air thick, did he want me too? Was I losing it? Too many things just unfolded in just a matter of hours. First the thing with Lisa and now this?

I threw myself onto the bed, stared at the locked door, breath jagged, Lisa's call had me wired, but Jack, he was the real snag, out there somewhere, I was stuck, trapped in my head, shame morphing, teetering on something else, something I couldn't name yet, didn't dare.

I had always had the thoughts at the back of my mind and if... well, if he feels the same way, what could possibly stop us?