They're in Tommy's basement suite—on the bed for once this time, a true accomplishment—and Tommy's ducking his head down to mouth across Jake's bare sternum. He gets all the way down to the coarse trail of hair above Jake's waistband before Jake stops him.
"I know about your leg, you know," Tommy says before Jake can mumble out an excuse about needing to go to work or class or to his apartment or wherever. Immediately, Jake's face goes white, and Tommy holds up his hands, backtracking. "Look, it's not a big deal, alright?"
Jake shoves Tommy off him, jaw clenched tight. "Course it is," he snaps, searching around for his shirt. He's pulling it over his head before Tommy can blink, standing up unsteadily. "I'm a fucking amputee, Tommy. Of course it is."
Before Tommy can open his mouth, the door slams shut.
YOU ARE READING
Human
RomanceTommy Gold's the snarky, gay lit major who still lives in his parents' basement. Jake Miller's the all-American straight guy with only one leg. Turns out, neither of those things is completely true. © a. c. wyatt, 2016
