Second by Chantal Fernando

shower, washing my body. When I get out, I realise that I forgot the towel she left for me on the end of my bed, and there are none in the bathroom. I check the cupboards, but they’re just filled with her girly shit, so I open the door and peer out.
    Silence.
    I take that as the coast is clear and she’s in bed, hopefully asleep, so I make a quick dash for my bedroom. I’m almost safe at the door when….
    “Holy shit, Dean!” I turn around. She’s sitting on the couch in the living room, a tub of ice cream in her hand, spoon halfway to her mouth, her eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them. She takes me in from head to toe, stopping on my dick. “Oh, wow. That’s big. Like, really big.”
    I just stand there, water dripping down my body, watching her watch me. I’m comfortable in my body and used to having it on display, but her eyes on me is a completely different experience. I like her watching me. I like her reaction, like I’m the most amazing thing she’s ever laid her eyes on. She looks like she’s about to start fanning herself or something.
    “I forgot my towel,” I explain, shrugging nonchalantly. “I thought you were in bed.”
    “Big,” she says again, still looking south. I put my hand over myself and smirk. “Well, I’m just going to… yeah.”
    I open the door and walk inside.
    And great, now I’m fucking hard again.

Chapter Twelve
    I know I’m going to hell for this, but I only have one other penis to compare it to, and Dean’s is huge. And so pretty. Don’t ask me how a penis can be pretty, but after seeing Dean’s, I know it can. I shove the spoonful of now-melted ice cream into my mouth, swallowing and picturing what I just saw. Dean naked is something that everyone needs to see. Actually, I take that back. I don’t want any other women to see him, but he is just something else. The abs, the strong thighs, the sexy as hell V’s… and that amazing cock. He’s perfection moulded into one sexy, talented man. One who kissed me, and one I kissed back.
    I eat more ice cream, replaying the kiss in my head, and wondering what the hell I’m going to do about the whole situation. Have I been in denial this whole time? Or is this something new, something that’s building between the two of us?
    I don’t know.
    I don’t have to decide right now, do I?
    When half the tub of ice cream is consumed and I thoroughly hate myself, I put the rest of it back in the freezer and head to bed. Dean never resurfaced after his streak from the bathroom to his bedroom, and I’m kind of thankful for that, because I don’t know how to face him now. It wasn’t so much seeing him naked, but what I’d said during it that mortifies me. How many times did I say “big” in like thirty seconds? I get into bed and lift the sheets high up, so they cover my face.
    And when I fall asleep, I dream about him.
     
    *****
    I make him breakfast, because a bet is a bet, but also because I would have done it anyway. When he opens his door and wanders into the kitchen, the food is already served and on the table.
    “Morning,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “Something smells delicious.”
    “The smell of a victory meal?” I tease, taking a sip of coffee. “Do you want coffee or juice?”
    “Both please,” he says, sitting down and eying the giant stack of pancakes and crispy bacon. “Did you sleep well?”
    “Yes,” I lie, pouring him some juice and coffee and placing both in front of him. I sit down opposite him and ask, “Did you?”
    I slept for a few hours but woke up with my overactive mind thinking about Dean and my feelings towards him. I thought about Ben, and the look on his face if he knew that I was thinking about his own cousin in such a way, if he knew that I’d kissed him, and then the guilt hit me. What kind of person am I? I always thought I was a good person with a good heart, but now I’m not so sure. I’m clearly a selfish one, only thinking about my wants and needs, my own feelings,