Page 18

Chapter Seventeen

Austen

I groan as the overwhelming need to get up and piss wakes me. My head is pounding, my stomach a bit uneasy, and I’m hot as hell.

Good job, Austen, you are officially hungover as shit.

The sweet, soothing scent of sandalwood fills my lungs, and I feel the slightest touch, warm and firm, tugging me closer. My cock twitches, beckoning me to get up and take care of business so I can collapse back in this bed. But that touch, the smooth warmth, feels too good to fight, so for the moment, I don’t. I feel like shit, but I just want to stay here a little longer…

The touch pulls me closer until my cock brushes against something hard, and I immediately open my eyes and the world stops.

My gaze settles on a head of dark, messy hair, broad tan shoulders, and parted, pillowy lips. My breath catches as I notice the sheets barely covering his lean body. Like an alarm bell, my cock twitches again as the hardness moves against me.

No.

No, no, no… this can’t be happening, there’s got to be a good explanation for—

My stomach flips as the hazy memories resurface.

Of Cameron’s hands over my hips, his mouth on my—

“Fuck!” I shout as I push him away with all my might.

“Austen, what the—”

His arms flail as he screams, and he falls off the bed but catches himself halfway and scoots back up to sit.

“Get away from me. Right now.”

Cam’s eyes shoot open as panic and anxiety hit its peak.

“Austen…”

I swing my legs over the bed, confirming with my own eyes that I am completely naked.

My stomach roils as I make a beeline for the bathroom, the memories hitting me like poison.

His tongue in my mouth, his hands on my abs.

My cock hitting the back of his throat.

Coming down his fucking throat.

“Shit!” I yell again, trying to force the memories away. I lock myself in the bathroom, but I don’t miss Cameron’s panicked voice.

“Austen, what is going on?” he asks, the concern evident. “Are you okay?”

No. No, I am not okay.

I think I cheated on my fiancée with my best friend. My very male best friend.

Who’s gay.

Shit, does this mean I’m—

I shut the thought down as I aim for the bowl, trying to focus, but I can’t.

I think I might throw up.

Cam bangs on the door, and I nearly jump.

“Austen, talk to me…”

“I can’t,” I tell him as I finish up my piss and head straight for the shower. My cock twitches, knowing what I usually do in the shower, but I can’t think about such things right now.

I cheated on my future wife. With my best friend.

My best friend…

I brace my hands against the tile wall, forcing my head under the spray. Water ricochets off my shoulders, and I try to focus on breathing.

I recognize the signs of a panic attack. I used to get them a lot in high school, though most people had no clue.

The only person who knew was Cam, and he’s the last person who can help me now.

Cam…

Tears pool in my eyes as I try to make sense of how this could have happened. Did he take advantage of me? No, he wouldn’t do that. We were both drunk, and things got out of control.

I pray to whatever god is listening that there is a way out of this. That I haven’t completely destroyed everything I’ve worked so hard for.

But even as I stand here, hoping the water cleanses me, I can’t shake the memory of how good it felt.

How good he felt.

I am not gay. Or bi, or whatever.

I’m straight. I have a fiancée, we’ve had sex and while I know I’m not the best lay in the world, I’ve gotten her off for three damn years. Okay, maybe she’s not the best at sucking my dick—clearly, if the memory of Cam’s mouth is any indication, but—damnit, no… I’m fucking straight!

My mind is a mess as I try to make sense of everything I know, and all I can come to is one conclusion.

It was a mistake.

I was drunk, and so was he, and maybe he didn’t realize what was happening. Maybe we were just two drunk friends who made a mistake. A really big fucking mistake. It happens. You see it in movies all the time. We are in Vegas, and if there’s any place for something like this to happen, it’s right here in Sin City.

I finish up in the shower, grabbing a towel, trying to stave off the panic.

I’ll just tell him the truth.

That I didn’t mean for this to happen, and—

I stop, noticing my reflection in the mirror. My wet hair hangs over my cloudy eyes, the remains of the water dripping down the lines of my abdomen, my skin flushed pink from the heat.

But I don’t see just my reflection in the mirror.

I see his hands sliding over my muscles, tracing lines down my hips. I hear his breathy voice echoing in my brain.

Your body is so fucking hot.

I close my eyes, trying to push away the memory. Because I remember what I said.

So is yours.

I swallow the hard lump in my throat, and open the door, and of course, he’s on the other side, looking just as panicked as I feel.

“Austen, say something. Please,” he says, and I can hear the desperation in his voice, and I hate it. Hate that what I’m going to say is going to kill him.

I don’t look at him because I can’t.

I fucking can’t.

My heart is in my throat and I still feel like I’m going to throw up.

If I look at him, I’ll never be able to say what I need to say.

My eyes close and there are a hundred things I want to say to him. But all I settle on is, “How could you do this to me?”

I brace my hands on the unmade bed. My bed.

The one I haven’t slept in since I arrived.

Fuck.

“What?” Cam’s voice is nearly a whisper, like I’ve just punched the air out of his lungs.

My jaw tenses, because in that one word, that one response, I know the truth.

Mack was right.

This isn’t just a friendship. At least, not for Cam. He wants more… more than I can give him. Because I. Am. Not. Gay.

Cameron is in love with me, but he can’t be in love with me.

I’m getting married in five days.

Five fucking days and I will take Savannah Marie Thomas and make her my wife.

My throat constricts as I force the words out again, opening my eyes and settling them on his face.

God, he’s so fucking beautiful and I hate it. But I also love it, and that makes me feel just as bad.

Because I know I shouldn’t.

“How could you do this to me?” I say, my voice shaking. “You are supposed to be my friend. You are supposed to look out for me, not—”

“What exactly are you saying, Austen??” he asks, his eyes going a little dark. That panic that was there is gone, and I think I’m about to see a side of my friend he only shows other people. People he doesn’t like…

I pull my gaze away because I won’t be able to stand seeing him hurt after what I’m about to say. I don’t want to hurt him, but what other choice do I have?

“How could you be so fucking selfish?” I ask, and the tears come without warning.

“Me?” he seethes. “I’m the one who’s selfish?” His voice is bitter.

“Yes,” I hiss, gritting the words out. “You took advantage of me. When I was vulnerable. Drunk. Because you’re in love with me.”

He flinches, but I hold my ground, refusing to let his pain stop me from saying what I need to say. I say the words viciously, hiding behind them like armor, and in a way I guess that’s what they are.

The facts are laid before me.

I was drunk. I was vulnerable. I was taken advantage of by someone I deeply trusted.

Cameron scoffs, glaring at me. “So that’s how you remember it?”

My jaw tenses as I angrily pull my clothes out of the duffel.

No, that’s not how I remember it at all. I remember how good it felt. His pulse hitching when I slammed him against the door, his tongue in my mouth.

My cock twitches at the thought, and it is like a death blow to my heart and my brain.

I want to tell him how much I enjoyed it, but that will solve nothing. In fact, it’ll make everything so much worse. For both of us. And everyone else involved. I have to hurt Cameron now to save him later. To keep him from a life of pain because I can’t be with him. It’s best he knows that now rather than years down the road. Maybe we can salvage our friendship at some point, but I’m not confident that’s possible.

“I trusted you, Cam, and you—”

There is a heavy banging on our door, and we both flinch. It can only be the guys.

Anxiety swells within me, and his glistening eyes burn with pain. Pain I caused.

I’m such a fucking asshole.

“We will never speak about this again,” I say sternly, knowing it’s only a matter of time before my brother and teammates barge in here, and I can’t afford to have Cam saying something.

Not that I think he would, but right now… I’m not so sure. Not with the way he’s looking at me like he’s about to explode.

I’m not so sure of anything at the moment, because it’s like the entire world has flipped upside down.

“Am I being clear?” I say, choking on the sob that wants to escape me. My hands are shaking, because I know nothing will ever be the same. Not now, not ever.

He steels his resolve, lifting his chin and replacing that face of pain with something so much worse.

Apathy.

“Crystal,” he says as he grabs his clothes out of his bag, zipping it angrily as there’s another round of bangs on the door. I watch even though I know I shouldn’t as he walks naked to the bathroom.

“Where do you think you are going?” I ask, my voice cold and bitter, even though it’s more than clear. But I stupidly can’t take my eyes off of him, off the way the sun shines on his tan skin, off his perfect body.

He doesn’t answer me, stopping at the door for a fraction of a second. I note the slight tremble in his shoulders.

I should tell him I’m sorry, I’m an asshole, and he doesn’t deserve this. Or me.

But I don’t. Even though I know if I acknowledged this, and explained exactly how I’m feeling, he would get it. He would understand. But something about that feels dangerous, so I keep doing the only thing that will work. I keep hurting him.

I don’t move an inch, even though every part of my body wants to.

He throws open the door, slamming it shut and the lock clicks seconds later. I let out a deep breath, running my hands over my eyes.

Alex hollers from the other side of the door as I try to steady my racing breaths and pull myself together. I grab my pants from the floor, not giving two shits if they are clean or not because I need to get dressed and get out of here before I do something I will regret.

Like bust open that bathroom door and tell Cam the truth.

“Coming! Hold your damn horses,” I yell as I pull on a shirt, sliding into my shoes and heading for the door. I fling it open, not bothering to invite anyone in. I feel guilty enough as is, so I slam the door shut, nearly knocking Mack over in the process.

“Fuck you, too, Austen,” Mack gripes as he rubs his shoulder. As if the guy doesn’t take hits ten times worse weekly.

“Sorry,” I bite as I brush past them into the hallway.

“Where’s Cam?” Alex asks, and the guys follow my fast footsteps.

“He’s not coming,” I say loudly, hoping that will be the end of it, but of course it isn’t.

“Damn. Trouble in the fan club?” Mack asks as he catches up to me, my brother and the guys trailing in behind him.

“He’s not feeling well. Rough night,” I say.

Paul grunts.

“I know the feeling.”

I doubt they do, but I don’t say anything. A part of me wants to turn around. We’re only halfway down the hall, not even to the elevators yet.

He’s probably half-way through a shower right now. I could still catch him, apologize, but…

I’m too scared by the realization I want…

That I want him.

My expression shifts to the one everyone knows, and I hide behind it like a mask.

Andre nods to my wrist.

“Nice watch,” he says. “That new?”

And that’s the moment my heart shatters.

I rub my fingers along the smooth band, hiding the emotion clogging my throat. “Yeah.”

Andres grunts out a sound of approval as Paul nods. “Don’t know about you guys, but I’m fucking starving.”

I nod, my stomach flipping still. I don’t know if I can eat. I don’t know if I can do anything at this moment, but I have to try.

I can’t let them see me fall apart.

So I let my brother and my teammates lead me through the casino, and though I want to look back, I don’t. Because from here on out, all I can do is move forward. What’s in the past is in the past, and it best stay buried there.

All day, all I think about is Cam. About what happened between us, about how I left.

My fingers hovered over our text thread, pressing backspace time and time again. I debated whether I should text him or not. What’s stopping him from texting me?

I shove my phone into my pocket for the last time as I finish my drink. Some mixed thing Alex shoved in my face because he said he was tired of seeing me frown.

I’m not sure alcohol is enough to fix this, but it’s worth a shot, right?

I down my drink, get up and leave. I don’t make any excuses, and I don’t need to. I’m in a shit mood, and they all know it. For once, I don’t have the energy to put my face on.

It’s late, nearing one am by the time I make it back to my hotel room.

My hand hovers over the door handle as I wave my key, waiting for the click.

All night, all I’ve thought about is this moment. Went over all the things I want to say in my head, or if I should say anything at all. If I should just walk in this room like everything’s fine and nothing has changed when everything has changed.

I let out a shaky breath as I turn the handle.

When I open the door, it’s dark; the only light is the slivers of lights peeking in through the window from the over lit skyline.

Both beds are made, that I can see. I turn the light on.

“Cam,” I call out, but there is nothing but silence. I walk through the room, opening the bathroom, but he isn’t there. He isn’t anywhere.

My heart slows, my blood chilling as I realize he’s not here.

My gaze settles on the made beds. There’s no duffel bag. No clothes strewn about the floor. No signs of anyone existing in this space.

But I can still see him, as if he were standing right here. I know what he looks like in this space.

I close my eyes as the truth hits.

He’s not here, because he left.

He left me.

There’s no note, nothing.

The silence is deafening, but it is nothing compared to the crack in my heart. Tears sting my eyes, and I know there’s no point in being quiet. No one can hear me.

I saunter my way over to his bed, getting on top of it. I lay my head on my pillow—the side I’d been sleeping on.

The pillows and sheets smell like crisp linen, not like him.

And as I lay there, staring out at the vast skyline, I tell myself it’s better this way.

Maybe one day I’ll believe it.