It's funny- a lot of times when people meet us they think Jeff is the gay one and I'm the straight one. He's not effeminate, but he is an art history major with a David Bowie obsession. He dresses like he's ready for a party at Andy Warhol's Factory at any moment. He even LOOKS gay- practically hairless and very slender, with pouty lips and high cheek bones. Hell, it took two years of being his best friend before I really believed he was straight.
When I first met him freshman year, I did everything I could to get into his pants, but he resisted the smoldering looks, the hand on his thigh, the friendly wrestling, showing up at his place in my skimpy running shorts dripping in sweat from a long run. After a few months I'd resigned myself to the fact that all the beer, the weed, and the blow in the world wouldn't make him the least bit... flexible. And by the time I'd figured it out, we'd somehow ended up best friends.
I don't rea...
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