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Paul

R ocky’s is busy tonight as we celebrate our second win of the weekend. We’ve just gotten food delivered to the table when the door opens and a frazzled Brendon walks in. Preston and Jeremy are nowhere in sight, which isn’t exactly abnormal.

“You all right, man?” I ask him as he drops into the seat next to me and grabs my beer out of my hand to take a swig. I sigh but don’t fight him. It’s just how he is. Secretly, I love it. That possessive side of me likes that he reaches for me when he needs or wants something. There’s an easy intimacy that I don’t have with anyone else, and after being alone last year, I crave him being near me.

“Fine,” he snaps. That’s not normal for him.

“You wanna tell your face that?” I snatch my beer back, but he’s drained it. Fucker. “The lovebirds coming?” I signal the waitress for another beer and turn back to him.

“I don’t know.” Brendon gets up and orders himself a beer.

He drops back into his chair a few minutes later and grabs some fries from the basket sitting in front of him as Jeremy and Preston come in and sit across from us. Preston is sporting an arm sling since he dislocated his shoulder about two weeks ago.

“Started without me, huh?” Jeremy ribs me, grabbing fries from the basket, and signals for a beer. Preston sighs but doesn’t say what we all know he wants to.

There’s a tension between Brendon and Jeremy, but Preston looks like the cat who caught the canary. My gaze flits between them, and I can’t quite figure out what is going on.

“All right, out with it,” I demand. Preston’s lips lift in a slow, knowing smile while Brendon’s face turns red, and Jeremy chokes on his water.

“What?” Jeremy coughs. I turn and stare at Brendon, waiting for him to break. It won’t take long. About sixty seconds later, Brendon slams his hands down on the table and exclaims. “I walked in on them fucking, and I’m going to have nightmares.”

Preston laughs and wraps a hand around Jeremy’s thigh, pulling him closer. Jeremy’s face pales, then turns pink while Brendon stares at nothing.

“I’m a little afraid to ask what you actually saw . . .” I look between the three of them, and Preston’s smug expression makes me a little nervous.

Brendon finally turns and looks at me. “We’ve all seen the marks, but watching how he gets them is a little scary. Preston is not nice.”

The waitress puts my beer down in front of me and brushes her hand against my arm. When I look up at her, she gives me a shy smile, and I tell her thanks. I’m not interested, but maybe I should give it a shot. No one but me has touched my dick in way too long.

The noise around us rises as Carpenter comes in, and the team cheers him on with drinks in the air. He smiles and bows dramatically before taking a seat.

One of the guys from the team last year slaps him on the shoulder and puts a drink in front of him. “First one’s on me.”

Our team captain takes it and lifts it to the team. “Thanks. I’m damn proud of you guys.”

Brendon and Jeremy are trying too hard to be normal but won’t actually look at each other, which I now find hilarious. Brendon’s red hair is rumpled like he’s been running his hands through it, and it makes my palm itch to do the same. I love Jeremy like a brother, but I’m kind of afraid of his sex life.

Brendon tries to grab my plate, but I slap his hand and move it out of his reach.

“Touch my food and lose a hand.” I glare at him, but he laughs, some of the rough edges smoothing out.

“I’m hungry. Feed me, Daddy.” He opens his mouth like a baby bird, and I pick up a fry to shove in his mouth. It goes too far, and he chokes but laughs along with the guys around us who heard him. “Dick.”

“Get your own damn food,” I say around a mouthful of my burger.

He huffs but flags down a waitress to put in a burger order, and Jeremy does as well. Preston gets a chicken salad and water because, of course he does. Brendon continues to eye my food, but I’m not sharing. I’m starving.

We all chat and eat while we sit around the bar. Brendon puts his arm around the back of my chair like he usually does. He’s a toucher, and over the last few months of living together, I’ve gotten so used to it that I miss it when I don’t have it. It’s also why I can’t fucking get over him. He’s in my space all the time, so fucking close, touching me, but I can’t have him. Not really. Not the way I crave.

Since Jeremy got with Preston and is no longer hooking up with Brendon, he’s been making out with a lot of sorority girls from what I’ve seen, but I’m not sure if he’s actually having sex with them or not.

A few hours later, Brendon is sulking into his beer, tossing back shots here and there, while some girl is attempting to flirt with him. He’s not stumbling drunk, but he’s on his way. If he doesn’t slow down, he’ll be there in an hour or so.

I order him a basket of fries to help soak up the liquor and tell the waitress to put it in front of him.

He’s not great at taking care of himself. So sometimes I have to do it for him. I like doing it.

As I lift my beer to my lips, I see the woman slide a hand on his thigh, and I want to rip it off. I have no claim to him, but tomorrow when he feels like shit with a hangover, he’ll climb into my bed and lay his head on my shoulder. He’ll let me take care of him, get his food, water, and meds, then demand I lie in bed all day with him. But he won’t kiss me. The man who has come to mean more to me than anyone else wants intimacy, but not sex. I can care for him, about him, but I can’t be in love with him.

She shakes her head and giggles, which grates on my nerves. She’s beautiful, though. Curly blonde hair that hangs past her shoulders, a sweet face with plush lips, and obviously isn’t afraid to make moves. That confidence will get you everywhere.

The waitress drops the fries in front of him and walks off without a word.

“Did you order me food?” He leans closer to the woman with that sexy smile on his face that I want directed at me.

“I did,” I snap before she has a chance to say anything.

Brendon’s eyes meet mine, and the smile changes to his normal dopey one.

“Aw, thanks, buddy.” He kisses my cheek and wraps an arm around my neck. “I knew you loved me.”

More than you know.

I lift my beer at him and take another drink so I don’t say something I’ll regret.

Willis climbs on a table and lifts his beer. He’s a bit wobbly, and I really hope he doesn’t fall and bust his head. I really don’t want to hear Coach yell at us because he’s a dumbass.

“Hey, shut up!” Everyone quiets down, and I turn to face him completely. “I’m proud to play with you fuck nuggets.” Everyone chuckles, and he continues. “Let’s have a toast to Captain Carp for being the coolest, level-headedest, ass-kickingest dude.”

“Hear, hear,” the team cheers, lifting their glasses.

“Yay! Carppy!” Brendon yells, standing abruptly and spilling his beer on Carpenter. “My bad, dawg.”

Brendon leans down with his tongue out like he’s going to lick the beer from our captain’s neck. Leaping forward, I grab Brendon’s shirt and jerk him backward into me. He stumbles and leans on my chest for a second, cackling.

“We don’t lick people,” I say in his ear.

“Maybe you don’t, but I definitely do.” He licks my cheek, and I force myself to move back away from him. His mouth is so fucking close to mine. It would be easy to press our lips together.

“Act right before someone punches you in the face.”

Brendon salutes me and pulls the blonde woman against him. They sway to the music, and she reaches back to hook her arm around his neck. He drags his lips against her neck, and she smiles, pushing back into him.

“I’m surprised he’s gone after so many chicks.” Jeremy’s voice makes me jump, and I lift my beer to my lips just for something to do.

“I’m not.” I give him the side-eye. “You hurt him, so he’s finding a distraction that won’t come back to bite him in the ass.” And I hate it. It’s a dig at Jeremy because I’m jealous, but oh well. The alcohol is not helping me keep control of my pissy mood, and if I don’t watch it, I’ll end up outing myself to the team before I’m ready.

I get dragged into a game of darts with some of the guys, and by the time I get back to the bar, Brendon has disappeared. Great.

I scan the room but don’t see any sign of his bright red hair or the blonde he was wrapped around. Did he leave with her? Did he take her back to our dorm? Is he getting a blowie in the bathroom or behind the bar?

I shove a hand through my hair and pull on the strands in frustration. Fuck. If he disappeared with that girl, I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep my jealousy under wraps.

A warm body presses against me, making me jump, but a quick look over my shoulder and getting an eyeful of red hair has me relaxing. Brendon’s arms come around my waist, and his face presses to the back of my shoulder. He’s my comfort, and he doesn’t even know it.

“Take me home,” he mumbles.

I smile a little and pat his hand. “Okay, let me make sure Jeremy and Preston are good, then we can go.”

Brendon presses a soft, quick kiss to my neck, and goose bumps break out along my skin. That was much more arousing than it should be. I force my body to not react to it or to think too much into it. He doesn’t mean it to be sexual or a come-on. He’s just an affectionate guy.

As much as I don’t want him to let me go, I know he has to. I pat his hands again, and he slides them back, dragging them along my sides. I glance back at him for a second before moving through the crowd to find Jeremy.

He’s at a table with Willis and Carpenter sitting on Preston’s lap, laughing and having a good time. I lean close to his ear so he can hear me over the noise.

“Brendon is ready to go, so I’m taking him back to the dorms. You guys good?”

“I’ll head back with Preston.” Jeremy pats my arm, Preston growls, and I nod, then find Brendon again.

We say goodbye to the guys we pass on the way to the door, and I breathe a sigh of relief when we get into the quiet of the night. Brendon follows behind me a few steps, then grabs my hand and holds it.

Butterflies tickle my stomach, and I give his hand a light squeeze. I don’t think he’s ever held my hand before. Is it the booze?

“I’m sorry, Pauly boy,” he sighs, lifting the back of my hand to rub his prickly cheek against.

“Sorry for what?” My voice is a little shaky, but I doubt he notices.

“That I can’t love you the way you deserve.” He pulls me along with him across campus to our building.

Uh. Excuse me? Fucking what?!

My feet stop moving as I stare at the beautiful man rubbing his face along my skin.

“What does that mean?”

He continues to nuzzle my hand until the skin gets sensitive, but I don’t pull it from his grip. There’s something bouncing around his busy brain, and I want to know what it is. I need answers.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do after college.” Brendon sighs dramatically.

“I don’t think any of us really know. I certainly don’t.”

Brendon gasps and spins around, grabbing my shoulders. “You bought me food!” His expression gets soft and swoony. “Aww, you love me.”

“Yeah, I bought you food.” I chuckle at his rapid change of subject. I wonder if I could get him to answer the question later when he’s sobered up some. Will I have the guts to ask him when he’s sober?

“I’m so fucking horny,” he groans and turns back around, walking toward the dorms again.

He’s going to give me whiplash.

“Why didn’t you hook up with that chick at the bar? She was clearly interested.” That sounded jealous. Maybe he won’t remember it tomorrow.

Brendon shakes his head and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Nah, I wasn’t feeling girls tonight.”

My dick twitches, and I turn my head just enough to catch a look at his face in the corner of my eye. He’s such a beautiful man. His pale skin, some light freckles along his cheeks, and the soft swoop of his lips. He’s strong and solid. While I’m long and lean, he’s powerful and sturdy. Not only can he take a lot of damage on the ice, but he can cause it too. I’m fast and agile but easier to break.

Brendon starts singing “Welcome to My Life” by Simple Plan, which I haven’t heard in years. He mumbles the words while we’re in the elevator, and I follow him down the hallway to our room where he promptly takes off his pants because, of course he does. I swear he spends more time without pants on than the reverse. His dark blue briefs with yellow ducks cup his ass in the most maddening way, and forcing myself to not react is exhausting. At least he has a shirt on this time. Half the time he doesn’t even have that on, and it’s hell on my self-control.

There’s a vibe surrounding him that I can’t quite figure out, sadness or hopelessness, maybe. It makes a sharp pain appear in my chest.

Before he can drop down onto my bed, I reach for his arm and pull him into me. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, our bodies pressed together, and his face is in my neck. There’s nothing sexual about the contact, it’s just comfort and friendship.

Brendon hesitates but slides his arms around me and squeezes me back, releasing a sigh, and relaxing into my hold. I close my eyes and just exist in the moment with him. I know he’s struggling with something, but I’m not sure what it is. His brain is so busy usually that it’s hard to tell when he’s just exhausted from it or if there’s something really bothering him.

I’m not sure how long we stand there, just breathing, but he pulls his face from the crook of my neck and looks at me. My eyes drop to his lips. I’m desperate to know what he tastes like, how he kisses, how he feels.

In the next breath, our lips meet in a soft brush, and I don’t know who moved first. It doesn’t matter. I have limited experience kissing guys, and this is so much different than any of the others that I want to remember it for the rest of my life. It’s Brendon. My Brendon.

With nerves fluttering in my stomach, I kiss my best friend and hope he doesn’t hate me for it in the morning.

I love the way he feels against me. Sturdy but vulnerable. I know he can handle whatever life throws at him. I’ve seen him take command on the ice, watched him take hits and bounce back, then turn around and need comfort for an internal wound he wasn’t ready to talk about at that moment.

It’s not a deep kiss, a barely-there contact, but it steals my breath. I hold his head in my hands and slant my mouth over his, needing more from him.

Nothing has ever felt as right as this moment, with this man, in this room. He’s my everything.

And that terrifies me.

I’m so gone for this boy.

The kiss ends the same way it began, and he steps back with a sigh, running his hand through his hair, like my world isn’t crashing down around me.

The anguish of losing my mom and my dad spirals inside of me. After Mom died, Dad pulled back, left me with my grandparents most of the time while he went out fishing or hunting or whatever he was doing. Even now he rarely calls or texts to check in. He’s been a shell of a man since she died, and I swore when I watched him walk away that I wouldn’t allow myself to fall that hard for anyone.

But I did.

Brendon drops onto my bed, and I kick off my shoes despite my hands shaking. I crawl over him and lay next to the wall, one arm behind my head while he grabs the Xbox controller and flips through the apps to find something. As he watches the TV, I can’t help but watch him. I can only see a sliver of his face and the broad expanse of his back, but I watch the muscles move under his T-shirt. I both want to pull him against me so I can breathe him in and push him as far away from me as possible.

He puts on The Mandalorian for the hundredth time and lays back against my shoulder. Part of his body is on mine, and I hate how much I like it. Somewhere along the way, I fell hard for him, but I can’t keep him.

Having the pressure of him against me is calming, reassuring. Brendon is a toucher, it’s just how he is. He needs it, but it’s killing me.