His Secret

36. Adrian

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

ADRIAN

I have to see him one last time. I should tell him what happened. Tell him my father saw us and has threatened to ruin everything. But it’s embarrassing to be twenty-two years old and tell the person you love that you can’t be with them because your dad said so.

Matías is stubborn. He’ll fight this. He’ll fight this like I want to, but he doesn’t know my dad. He doesn’t understand what he’s capable of, and he won’t have to deal with him ever again. I have years to endure my father.

I’m not sure how I could possibly end this, because nothing will feel right. I have no reason to break up with him. We’re both so happy. We don’t fight. We have no issues. So how do I make him believe there is one?

I wait two days after my father caught us before I see him. I told him I was sick, but I needed to make sure my dad was back home and not lingering in the shadows.

We only have a couple more days of Christmas break left, so that’s the deadline I give myself.

I pull up to Matías’s dorm, take a deep breath, and try to keep from looking as miserable as I feel.

He opens the door with a wide smile. “Got rid of all your germs?” he asks.

I snort. “I think so.”

He yanks me inside. “At this point, I don’t care. We can share them.” Then he wraps his arms around me and kisses me like it’s been years since he saw me last.

We quickly fall into the bed, strip out of our clothes, and have sex for what will likely be the last time.

Matías tries to get on top of me, but I keep him on his back, wanting to take my time, looking into his eyes as I slide in and out of him. At one point, I bury my face in his neck just to discreetly wipe a tear threatening to fall from my eye.

“I want you to be inside me,” I tell him quietly in his ear.

“Okay,” he says after a brief hesitation.

I’ve only bottomed a couple times, but if this is the last time, I want to experience it all. So after a few minutes, we change positions and I feel him inside of me one final time.

He stares down at me as thrusts, his orgasm inching closer. My hand moves up and down my shaft, and I try not to think about the sadness of this moment. I focus on the pleasure. On how it feels to have him inside me. To have this moment where our bodies come together to act on the love we feel for each other.

But when I come, my orgasm roaring out of me, it’s tinged with a cry of sadness.

Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice, too caught up in his own release.

Afterward, we lie together, cuddled up under his blanket, watching some movie he put on. I’m hardly paying attention, focused more on tracing the veins in his arms, or memorizing every curve of his face. I play with his hair and commit to memory how soft and wavy it is .

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks. “Wanna have dinner?”

I open my mouth to immediately say yes, but stop myself. “I’m not sure. The guys have been real suspicious lately.”

“Still?” he asks. “I thought you gave them a fake story about some girl.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t believe me because she’s never come around. And I’m always with you. So I worry they might start to think…” I trail off, hating myself for saying the words.

He stiffens. “I see.”

“I should probably be around the house more often. Maybe they need to see me talk to some girls or something.”

My stomach coils and I want to squash any worries he might have, but I can’t.

He spins around to face me, determination in his eyes. “You know I love you, right?”

My heart cracks. “Yes.”

“I’m okay with waiting for you. Waiting until you’re comfortable. Until you think you’ll be ready to come out. This secretive stuff is fine with me. I love our quiet moments here. I love our sneaky moments at your place. I’m willing to wait.” He pauses. “As long as I know there will be a time that the secrecy comes to an end.”

My fractured heart now shatters. I don’t deserve him. He’s been amazing during our entire relationship. He’s so understanding, and still willing to wait for me. How can I possibly tell him that the time he’s waiting for will likely never come?

I get up, struggling to get out from under the covers. I kick them down and finally plant my feet on the floor.

“I-I don’t know what to tell you. I can’t promise something I can’t see,” I tell him. “I’m afraid, Matías. I love you and I’m afraid.”

He sits up, confusion etched in his features. “What?—”

“You don’t know what I’m going through. I’m struggling. I’m…I’m…my father. He can’t. I can’t be gay. I just can’t.”

“But you are.”

“You don’t understand,” I say, pulling my jeans off the floor and stepping into them. “I don’t know that I can promise you the future you want. The one you deserve. We’re probably wasting our time.”

I watch him blanch at the words, and then I turn my back and put my shoes on. My stomach twists and turns, threatening to throw up everything inside it.

Though I don’t want to say these things, it is true. I would just never speak to him this way.

“What’s happening here?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“I don’t know. I need to go. We need space, I guess. I need to think.”

“Adrian, don’t do this.”

My feet freeze at his tone. I angle my head over my shoulder and get a glimpse at his heartbroken face.

“I’m sorry.”

His shoulders fall, like he knows that’s it. This is goodbye.

I walk out and make it all the way to my car before I start crying.