Omorphi Read Online Free

Christy. “I’m beginning to wonder if what I like exists.”
    Jake finished packing and took a seat next to Michael again. “Tell me what you like. Besides that Andrej guy.”
    Michael leaned forward, elbows on knees, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Telling his straight best friend about the fantasy dude he’d like to… well, his DILF, was… just too weird. “I can’t tell a straight guy what I like in a guy.”
    “Bro, I already know you like dick. Unless you’re going to tell me you’re into satanic practices or have cannibalistic tendencies, I think I can handle it.”
    Michael huffed a laugh. “Whatever.”
    “Tell me what you like,” Jake pressed.
    Michael blew a long breath. “You really want to know?”
    Jake pinned him with his dark eyes. “Yeah, I do.”
    Michael ran a hand through his damp curls. “Yeah, okay.” He tried to formulate the words, but they twisted in his mind, trapped behind a wall of unfamiliar embarrassment.
    Jake studied him, humor filling his eyes. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words.”
    “Come on, man, this is awkward.”
    “Be easy, bro. I see what you check out, so let’s see if I have the 411. You don’t do contrary, lazy, flamboyant, or whiny. Dramatic twinks aren’t your thing. Physically, you like small, almost delicate, but not willowy. You want substance there. I’m guessing you don’t want the guy to feel like he’s going to break when you hold him. And grace, graceful movement without it being too feminine. You prefer shy, someone you can take care of, but you also want sophistication, someone you can communicate with. Someone who’s comfortable in his skin, as comfortable being gay as you are. Most of all, you want kindness and honesty. Someone who knows a smile costs nothing. And I guess I’d add that you’d like someone pretty. Curly hair is a must, but the eyes are most important to you. Then, you study the architecture of a face, the cheekbones, the curve of a jawline, the hollow of a neck. You watch lips move. You like quality. It’s hard to explain. Maybe it’s like lace. You don’t want a replica like the machine-made stuff you find in a store, but lace tatted by hand over time. Sturdy, yet refined, and made with love in mind. And you want a good kisser. Kissing is important to you.”
    Michael stared at him, dumbfounded.
    Jake cracked up at his expression. “Did I totally miss it?”
    Michael continued to stare at him.
    “Say something, man.”
    “You didn’t miss a freakin’ thing.”
    Jake held a hand up for a high five, and Michael slapped it. “How’d you figure all that out?” Michael picked anxiously at the label on the water bottle, never having felt so revealed.
    “We’ve only known each other since the day we were hatched, bro.”
    “You know more about me than I do.”
    “I pay attention to what goes on around me. Something you’d do well to do more of. Tell me why you like Christy. Besides that you think he’s pretty.”
    Michael looked back over his shoulder again. Christy sat on the highest bleacher, far away, watching him as he and Jake spoke.
    “He doesn’t leave until you do,” Jake said quietly.
    Michael turned back, an eyebrow arched in query. “You keep tabs on him?”
    Jake shrugged. “Don’t have to. Where you are, he is. He’s weird, so I checked around.”
    “You checked him out?”
    Jake huffed. “To the extent that I could. No one really knows anything about him except that he moved to Wellington Ranch last summer, and he’s a senior. And a poindexter. He spends a lot of time in Mr. Cooper’s art bungalow and is excused from phys ed. No one knows why. And he always wears a ridiculous scarf around his neck.”
    Michael stared at Jake again.
    “What?”
    “Do you worry about me, bro?”
    Jake made an unintelligible hand gesture. “You’re my best friend. Since you came out to me, I keep watch, that’s all. I don’t want anything to happen to