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5

Paul

W hen I climb out of bed in the morning, I scrub a hand over my face and ignore the dread sitting heavy in my stomach. It looks like Brendon moved back to his bed at some point and is still sleeping, so I grab my phone, slip on some shoes, and head down to the dining hall to grab us some breakfast.

I tossed and turned for a while but finally fell asleep around one. Questioning what happened and how we got here. Nothing has felt as right as when Brendon’s lips touched mine. I’ve come to peace with being attracted to him. Most people don’t really do it for me. I can appreciate an attractive human, but I don’t want to fuck them. I crave the connection more than anything else. I’ve never had that before. Not like this. Brendon and I have been friends for years and are comfortable with each other. That connection makes me ache for him, heats my blood.

I’ve always felt weird about it. Growing up, my friends were always obsessed with girls, and while I appreciated them, I didn’t get the appeal of random hookups. I still don’t. What’s the point?

I rub at the throb in my chest. Since we’re athletes, they let us eat pretty much anything we want down there and don’t argue too much when we take more than we should. We’re supposed to stick to a strict diet that’s put together by the dietitians, but the dining hall doesn’t rat us out if we grab pastries sometimes.

Since Sundays are rest days and we can sleep in, I don’t see many people from the jock dorm and make it back to the room quickly. But in the hallway outside our room is a curly-haired blonde chick, staring at the door.

“Uh, can I help you?” I try not to sound like a dick, but she’s in my damn way, and I’m pretty sure it’s the same girl that was all over Brendon last night at the bar.

“Oh, hi.” Her smile is huge, but something about it makes me uneasy. I don’t trust it. “I’m Nikki.” She offers her hand, but since mine are full, I just raise an eyebrow at her. She laughs, and it grates on every one of my nerves. “Oh, silly me. I can get the door for you.”

The last thing I want is for her to touch my door.

“That’s all right, I got it.” I move between her and my room. “My roommate is still sleeping.”

“Oh, okay. I was wondering why Brendon wasn’t responding to my texts.” She shrugs like it isn’t the creepiest sentence I’ve ever heard. “I guess I’ll just wait a while longer.”

With another smile and a wave, she walks away, and I find myself watching her go. What the fuck was that? Once she’s out of sight, I shake my head. Puck bunnies are crazy.

When I open the door and find Brendon’s bed empty, I stop short and look around. The bathroom door swings open, and he steps out wearing jeans and a hoodie.

Disappointment and unease tense my stomach, and I busy myself with closing the door, then shove his food into his chest.

“Oh,” Brendon grunts at the impact and takes the bag. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” I mutter and sit on my bed to eat my eggs. Brendon sits on his bed and opens the oatmeal with berries on top, stirring it around with his spoon but not actually eating it.

“I thought you went down without me,” he says quietly, looking at his bowl.

I glance over at him, and the uncertainty of our situation turns my stomach.

“I’m sorry, I . . .” I don’t know what to say to make this better. Do I admit that I’ve wanted to touch him for too damn long? Is it better to pretend it didn’t happen? I don’t know what to do, and it’s eating at me. Will he pull away now and find someone else to comfort him when he needs it? It was a kiss. I can’t lose him as my best friend over a fucking kiss.

That would crush me. If he wants to pretend it didn’t happen, I would deal with it, but if he stops touching me altogether, I would die.

“What are you apologizing for?” Brendon’s forehead scrunches up like he’s confused but keeps his eyes on his bowl. He scoops up a bite of oatmeal and shoves it into his mouth, but he still won’t look at me.

My heart thunders in my chest, and fear tickles my stomach. Does he not remember? He wasn’t that drunk, was he?

Do I tell him and make it worse if he did forget? Is he pretending like he doesn’t know? What the fuck do I do? I want him. Full stop. But I will take any part of him he’s willing to give me. If that means I’m relegated to just cuddles, so be it. I’m not sure how a future love interest will like that, but that is a bridge we will have to cross when we get to it. Will he stop cuddling with me when he finds a partner? I don’t think I’ll survive.

Brendon finally looks at me, and in the blink of an eye, he’s set his food down and is wrapping his arms around me.

“Hey.” He takes my food and moves it aside to straddle my lap and wrap himself around me. I shove my face in his neck and wrap my arms around his back. “What did I miss?”

The weight on my chest eases, and I suck in a deep breath. My lungs fill with the scent of Brendon: Tide laundry soap, team shower body wash, and the smoky pine of his deodorant.

“We kissed last night. Do you remember?” I say into his shirt.

Brendon relaxes a bit, and he chuckles. “Oh. That. It’s fine, dude. No big deal, really.” Leaning back, I look up at him, and God I want to kiss him right now to show him just how big of a deal it really is.

Brendon’s smile falls, and he looks at me much more seriously now. “Wait, have you kissed a dude before?”

I force myself to swallow and focus. “Uh yeah, I did last year.”

Brendon smirks, lifting an eyebrow. “Look at you, getting a little slutty. I’m so proud of you.”

I roll my eyes but can’t stop the blush from heating my cheeks. “Shut up.”

“Did you get laid? Handies? Blowies? Come on, gimmie the deets, my dude!” Brendon shakes me, and I laugh at him.

“What? No.” I push on his hips, but he wraps around me tighter. “I’m not telling you shit.”

“Just whisper it in my ear. It’ll be our little secret.” He turns his head so I can do just that, and something about the movement has me wanting to nip at his neck, suck on his skin, and whisper dirty words for him. I wonder if he likes dirty talking . . .

“You’re a menace,” I whisper in his ear, and he shivers on my lap.

“Okay, fine. We can reenact what happened. You twisted my arm, but I accept.” He wags his eyebrows with a stupid smile on his lips.

“Real funny.” I dig my fingers into his ribs, and he screams, jerking away from me and falling onto the floor with a loud thud.

He lays on the floor for a minute, looking up at me, and flips me off.

“I hate being tickled.”

I smirk at him and pick up my now cold eggs. “I know.”

Brendon grabs his oatmeal and sits next to me on my bed.

“There’s a Bears game on soon. Wanna watch it?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond, just turns on the Xbox and TV and flips to Hulu, then settles on the channel it’ll be on in a few minutes.

We finish our breakfast, and he watches the game while I get caught up on homework. At one point, Brendon stands on the bed and cheers, arms raised in the air and yelling like his ass is on fire.

“Did you see that pass? It was fucking beautiful!” he shouts at me, pointing at the TV while standing above me. I smile at him and shake my head, turning back to my book. A pillow smacks me, making my pen draw a line across my paper.

“Hey!” I toss my stuff aside, grab the pillow and stand up, swinging it at him like a bat.

It hits him in the stomach, and he launches himself at me, knocking me back into his bed, then to the floor.

“You think you can take on the pillow fight champion?” I holler at him, cackling with laughter when I get my fingers in his armpit, and he shrieks.

“Who the fuck gave you that title? Your grandma? She was probably being nice!” he yells back, red faced and smiling. He comes for me again, grabbing my T-shirt in his hands and rolling us, but he must have forgotten how small our space is, and we end up with me straddling him, trapping him against the leg of my bed with my hands on the carpet next to his head.

We’re both breathing hard, smiling and sweating from roughhousing, when the air around us shifts. I am very aware of him below me, my ass pressed against his hips, and his hands still holding my shirt so I can’t move away. My skin heats, and it has nothing to do with the physical exertion, but the arousal humming through me. I rock my hips back, just a little, more on instinct than anything else.

Brendon’s breathing hitches, and his hands grip my hips. Leaning on his chest, I rock against him again, and he thrusts up against me. Anticipation and rightness blossom in my chest. This is what I’ve been missing. The connection and intimacy and acceptance that I’ve never had with anyone before, that I’ve craved my entire life.

“Paul.” Brendon’s voice is guttural and heavy. It sends shivers up my spine. I roll my hips harder against him and smile when his eyes heat. I feel victorious, like I won a battle. Fuck, this is magical. I had girlfriends in high school that I fooled around and had sex with, but it wasn’t like this. The connection I have with Brendon is different. It was there before anything sexual happened. It makes this more important. Stronger.

But is it the same for him? Is this once again a causal thing that he’ll walk away from? The thought stings.

Grabbing his wrists, I hold them above his head. The move lowers my head, and I drag my nose against his. His breath comes in pants with little whimpers, the warm air fanning over my cheeks, and I can feel him harden under me.

I love him like this, at my mercy and waiting for what I’ll do next. I’ve imagined touching him so many times over the last few years, but I never thought it would actually happen. Now that it’s here, I’m almost afraid of it. What if I do something he doesn’t like? What if he decides we aren’t compatible? Can I go back to just being his friend now that I know what his lips taste like?

I don’t think I can.

For months, since he moved in here at the beginning of summer, I feel like I’ve been edged. Pining after him, getting closer and closer to him seeing me as something more than just his friend, but I’m fucking scared. What if it’s just me? What if I’m reading into shit that’s not really there?

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at me?” Brendon plants his feet on the floor and uses the position to grind up against me.

“I’ll kiss you when I’m good and goddamn ready.” I nip at his bottom lip, and he hisses. Dragging the tip of my tongue along the edge, I soothe the sting.

I stare at his mouth, moving so close there’s barely a whisper between us, and Brendon balls his hands into fists. I can’t help but smirk at the frustration radiating from him. Now you know how I’ve felt for months. Knowing I’m getting to him is a special kind of high I wasn’t expecting.

The shrill of an old telephone rings out, and we both freeze. Fuck.

I hurriedly climb off Brendon and dig through the blankets on his bed for my phone.

“Hey, Grandma,” I say, a little breathless.

“Pauly, how are you?” Her voice usually wraps around me like a warm hug, but since I’m still hard, it’s just awkward.

“I’m good, how are you? Are the chickens laying eggs?”

Brendon forces himself off the floor and gets back onto my bed to watch the game again. He not-so-subtly adjusts himself while giving me the side-eye, and I smile at him. I’m not sorry he’s hard because of me, but I also don’t really know what to do about it. I have no experience here.

“The damn hens started laying but one is broody.” She sighs. “Damn birds.”

There’s a crash in the background followed by my grandpa’s laughter.

“Richard!” Grandma hollers. “Stop playing with the dog in the house!”

I chuckle at her exasperated tone. She’s been telling him the same thing my entire life. Grandpa has always been a big kid; it’s one of the things I love about him. He would take me out fishing, and we’d screw around all afternoon, coming back filthy, sunburnt, and starving but laughing. He tried so hard to make up for the fact that my dad wasn’t around much after Mom died.

“Fucking hell,” Grandma says under her breath. “I gotta go. They broke a glass.”

“All right, I love you.”

“Love you, Pauly boy.”

We hang up, and I settle back on the disaster that is Brendon’s bed. He never makes the damn thing, which drives me crazy, but whatever. I grab my school stuff and get back to work, ignoring Brendon’s hooting and hollering at the TV.

Images of Brendon keep filtering through my head, though. Naked, tied to his bed, at my mercy while I ride his dick and not letting him come. Does his entire body flush red? Would he let me tie him up? Would he let me fuck him?

Picking up my phone, I find a sex toy store and browse for butt plugs and prostate massagers. I wonder what that feels like . . . Not giving myself time to think about it, I add two toys and some lube to my cart and check out.

My face is on fire, and I really fucking hope he doesn’t look over here.

There’s a knock on the door, and we look at each other. Neither of us is expecting anyone. I shrug, and Brendon gets up to answer it.

“Oh good, you are awake.” That sickly sweet, fake voice from earlier hits my ears, and I lift my lip in irritation. “Did you get my messages?”

Brendon stands there in the doorway awkwardly. “Uh . . .”

I drop my head to hide my smile but peer at them and watch her face fall a little.

“I’m Nikki, from Rocky’s last night? We exchanged Snapchat handles.”

“Oh right, right.” His tone says he has no memory of this, and it takes all my self-control not to snort.

“So did you not get my messages? Maybe you have to accept the friendship first,” she explains as she reaches for her phone. It’s a bright pink catastrophe with shit hanging off it and fake diamonds and shit glued to it. Pretty sure my fourteen-year-old niece has a phone case like that.

She shows him her screen, and Brendon nods.

“Oh yeah, maybe.” Brendon scratches the back of his neck as she types out something on her phone. A second later, his phone pings. Busted.

“Oh good, my messages are going through.” She stares at him with an intensity that’s uncomfortable.

“I haven’t really looked at my phone today,” he tries.

“Well, why don’t you look now?”

The silence between them is awkward before he mutters, “Okay,” and turns around to grab his phone off the bed. He gives me a WTF look and checks his phone.

“There they are,” he says, kind of waving his phone awkwardly in the air. “I’m in the middle of watching a game, so I’ll talk—”

“The Bears game? Cool, I’ll watch with you.” She strides into the room and sits on the edge of my bed like she can’t read the damn room. This chick is weird.

“Uh, okay.” Brendon closes the door and climbs back on my bed, carefully not touching her, but she shifts closer to him. My body tenses at her movement, wanting to yell at her to get off my bed and to get away from him. I want to wrap myself around him to keep her away, but I don’t. I sit and stare at my books, sulking.

For a while, the room is quiet. Nikki tries to start a conversation a few times and even lays on her side to rest her head on Brendon’s leg. Something happens on the TV, and Brendon jumps up, jostling her, and I snort at the affronted expression on her face. Brendon is standing on the bed, arms raised, cheering.

Nikki reaches for my crocheted blanket, pulling it toward her, and Brendon doesn’t hesitate, just rips it from her grasp.

“No. No one touches that.” He cradles it against his chest in a ball and turns his body away from her like she’ll reach around his arm to take it back. Fuck, I love him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She puts her hand on her chest. “I didn’t know.”

I sigh and put my stuff away. Watching this is painful, and since I can’t focus, I’ll go somewhere else.

I swing my backpack over my shoulder and slip my shoes on. Brendon looks at me like I’m leaving him to face a monster on his own. “I’m going to the library.”

Snagging my ball cap on the way out, I put it on and close the door behind me. He’s not interested in anything serious. I know that. He never has been. But watching him with someone else hurts.