Page 13

Alex

L ance pulled his car up outside our house, shooting me another grin.

“You had a good time, though? I wasn’t a total failure?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a failure. You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye as his eyebrow quirked.

“Hell yeah, I did. And leaving my jacket in the bathroom will just make everything better.”

“I really don’t understand how making Tommy even more pissed off with you is going to help.”

“It’s all these tricks of the trade, my son. You learn as you go along.” He pressed his hand against his heart, sighing deeply. “One day, you, too, might be as brilliant and excellent as me.”

“I shudder at the thought,” I said with a blank face, which only made him shine more.

I could never tell if he was being honest when he said stuff like that.

I reached for the door handle, but Lance shot out a hand, grabbing my arm.

“Wait.” He stopped me, his voice suddenly serious. My attention swung back to him, my brow furrowed as I met his intense gaze. “I can’t take you on a date and not act like a gentleman,” he said, throwing me a wink.

Within seconds, he was out of the driver’s seat and running around the side of the car. He opened my door, offering me a hand like he was some noble lord.

“Next you’ll be laying your jacket down over a puddle for me.” I laughed as I slid my hand into his, letting him guide me out. With my height and size, most people would struggle, but Lance was one of the strongest guys on the team.

“You didn’t have to drive me back,” I murmured as he kept hold of my hand.

I didn’t even know why he bothered to drive us. It literally took a minute to get back to the house. Or maybe it was all part of his secret plan, too.

It was dark enough that I couldn’t see anyone out on the street. The houses of the various sports teams were in one big row outside the campus. At 11PM, there were probably people wandering back from clubs and parties, so we might still be spotted, even between the car and the house.

I might be comfortable being open about my sexuality with Lance, but it had been hard enough in high school with all the rumors. And the ‘dating’ part of the fake dating was meant to be kept as quiet as possible.

But, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye, and my stomach flipped with nerves as Brad’s curtain fluttered. It was a flimsy white thing, and his silhouette remained behind it.

“What is it?” Lance asked as he followed my gaze.

It was the perfect opportunity to make some headway with Brad. We’d already faked it in front of Tommy this evening, so it shouldn’t be too hard to do the same thing with Brad.

“He’s at the window,” I murmured as I stepped away from the car door. We kept our hands clasped as I met his growing smirk.

“What are you thinking?” he asked silkily.

“This,” I replied, tugging on his hand, startling him enough that he dipped forward, and I pulled him to my chest.

He let out a oof of surprise, and I instantly wrapped my other arm around his shoulder, making sure he stayed close. It was an awkward position, but Lance quickly got the idea and copied me. With one arm around my lower back, his other clasped in mine, his breath brushed the curve of my neck as his hair tickled my nose.

“And here I thought I was going to do all the work.” Lance chuckled against me.

“It’s give and take,” I said roughly, so aware of how Brad might be watching. What would he think if he saw me with another man? How would he react if he knew I liked guys? Maybe now was the best time to show him. When he thought I couldn’t see him.

It was about confidence. It was about being bold after spending years in fear.

But even as I pulled back from Lance, meeting him head on, my hands trembled.

“Will you stay still for me?” I asked in a hushed whisper.

“Anything for you, Alex,” he purred. “Especially after your wonderful performance at the restaurant.”

I nodded, trying to focus even though every single ounce of my attention was on the window above us.

I uncurled my fingers from Lance’s, lifting my hands to cup his cheeks.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked, his eyebrow hitching.

“No,” I replied as I leaned in, knocking my forehead to his like he did at the party. “I haven’t got a clue.”

With our lips hidden by my wrists, I hoped it looked like we were kissing.

Lance turned his head just enough to help seal the deal.

We stayed there, bodies close, breaths melding in the warm spring night, our noses pressed as we stared at each other, barely inches apart.

It was the first time I’d held a man who knew what I was really like. Or even looked at someone so intensely. Though I felt nothing for him, my heart still beat in my throat as my breaths grew deeper.

This was what I wanted with Brad. I wanted him to look right back at me without having to hide any of myself.

Even though the closeness with Lance made my nervousness spike, it was a kind of comfort I had never felt before.

The main problem was, I didn’t know how to step away from him without making it insanely awkward.

I’d basically just hit on him and now I was stuck holding him.

“I’ve got to say, this was such fine work, I’m surprised I didn’t think of it myself,” Lance said as he saved me by smoothly extracting himself from my grip, leaning back just far enough to smirk at me.

“It’s good timing, actually. I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s a secret stage of Brad 9.0.”

“I thought we’d covered everything?” It seemed like he was unaffected by how I'd suddenly shoved my face into his. And I was so glad it meant nothing to him.

“Not this. This requires a touch more delicacy.”

Lance leaned back in with a wink, nudging my nose with his as he pulled me tighter. “So we might as well keep up the pretense while we chat.”

***

I shoved my hands deep in my pockets, sucking in a breath as I unlocked the door to our house.

Brad was waiting on the couch, and he perked up as soon as I stepped inside.

“Hey,” he said dully as he quickly hunched forward. Xbox controller in hand, glued to the TV screen, he carried on playing like he hadn’t been looking out for me.

Lance and I had talked outside for at least half an hour as he spilled everything about his mom’s cancer. By the time he left to go back to the restaurant to pick up his jacket/annoy Tommy, my view of him had deepened. I would have never guessed he was going through so much, or that he just needed someone to talk to who wasn’t Porter.

Even with all of Lance's plots and tricks, he swore he wouldn’t use his mom as a way to get close to Tommy. But I still had to wonder where his line was.

Brad had plenty of time to act like he hadn’t seen us—and I had to pretend like I hadn’t seen him. I was just going to do what Lance said and wait for him to bring it up.

“Hi,” I said, softening straight away at the sight of him on our shitty couch.

Kicking off my shoes, I closed the door behind me.

Brad finally looked at me, his gaze hopping over me like he was checking for something. I’d straightened my shirt and pants before coming back in, so it didn’t look like I had a 250-pound hockey star rubbing his nose against my shoulder as he told me what he’d been going through since December.

Brad’s eyes lit up as I cautiously swerved around a bunch of sweaty gear piled up by the door to get to our couch.

“How was your date?” he asked with a wide grin. “You said you'd be back by ten, so I thought you’d taken them home after all our primping.”

“Ah, well. It wasn’t really that kind of date,” I replied sheepishly. “And I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just let them take the lead.”

I flopped onto the couch next to him, nestling into my favorite spot, nerves firing through me at light speed.

The other guys were usually out on a Friday, so I was pretty sure we had the place to ourselves for the next few hours, at least

I swiped my blue controller from the coffee table littered with half full coffee cups, magazines, and whatever else the guys dumped there when they played or watched TV.

Brad and I bought a red and blue pair when we started high school. It was another one of our rituals. The right side of the couch was mine, I always had the blue controller, and I was usually the one who beat him.

“So, um…” His head dipped, confirming he really was avoiding me. I swear I saw a tremor in his hand. “Where’s Lance?”

The air suddenly ripped from my lungs. It was my turn to freeze as fear pierced like a lightning bolt straight through me. I’d been preparing for him to mention it. I’d set it all up so he would. But I still couldn’t stop myself tipping backward, pressing hard against the arm of the couch.

My first instinct was to apologize. Because it was my fault I was like this, that I was gay. Because I couldn’t stop what I was like. Because I had to hide from him so he didn’t see how much I wanted him.

I flung my controller down just as my body tensed. I swallowed all my responses and prepared to vault off the couch.

But the controller knocked against Brad’s thighs as he swung his attention to me.

I flinched as he looked at me. And when he sat up fully, I darted my gaze to the front door.

“Dude, seriously.” He scowled. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“W-what?” I rasped, jumping. “Look at you like what?”

“Like I'm gonna hurt you.” He scrunched his brow as he clicked the controller, pausing the game. “It’s just, like. Well…” He twisted his lips as his eyes skipped over me.

The self-consciousness which circled me whenever we skimmed close to these conversations shot into overdrive.

“Well?” I asked so quietly I could barely hear myself. I didn’t need him to say anything else. I didn’t want to know how he felt, even though I’d been obsessing about it since we were twelve.

But it still felt like it was too soon.

“Well, like…I mean, seriously ?” He grimaced and my heart free fell into oblivion.

That was it. It was done and all those predictions I had about losing him were about to come true. I’d catastrophized about it for so long, and it was finally happening.

Brad’s nose scrunched up as he peered at me. “Like, Lance? Really? Out of every single guy in this big-ass school you could have gone for, did it seriously have to be Lance-fucking-Austin?”

My eyes widened and a huge breath whooshed out of me as I struggled to catch up with what my idiot best friend was saying.

“Lance?” I choked out. A nervous, shaky laugh dropped from me, followed by a pathetic wheezing sigh as I pressed my trembling palm to my forehead. I quickly ran it over the hair Brad had spent forever styling.

“That’s it?” I asked. “That’s what you’re asking me about?”

“Well, yeah, that’s fucking it. I mean, okay, it would have been nice if you’d actually told me you were into guys, or whatever. But what about the team? Or what about your heart? He might dump you for some twink actor and then it’ll get seriously awkward for all of us.”

All the weight left my body as I nearly collapsed. I stared at him, gathering up seven years of insane thoughts, and it all culminated in Brad being more annoyed by Lance than upset I was gay.

He suddenly sucked in a breath as his eyes went wide. “Holy shit, dude, what about your ass?”

I looked at him blankly, with no idea what he was talking about.

“Like, he’s a pretty big guy, isn’t he? Do you think his cock is…? I mean, are you going to be okay if he tries to…you know?”

I shook my head as I realized what he was trying to get at. “Are you really asking me that? That’s where your mind is going?”

“Instead of asking you what?”

“About me being gay, Brad!” I burst out, overflowing with words I’d clutched so tightly inside me I never wanted them to be free. “I’m not bi or anything. I only like guys.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, you know I don’t care about stuff like that.”

I gave him a blank look, every cell in my body dying as I took in his innocent expression.

I felt like I had whiplash from swinging through every emotion I’d been covering up for years.

And the conversation that had shut me up so violently last summer flew back into my head. Of Brad outright telling me not to be a freak.

I couldn’t tell if I was angry or in pain or relieved or just tired from all the stuff I’d put myself through because of one sentence he said nine months ago.

“You’re making that face again,” he said, his tone softening. “Really, dude, if you want to cry, just do it. I’m not gonna judge.”

I couldn’t say a word. This had gone so far beyond all the scenarios I’d cooked up that I wasn’t sure what to say next. I had made up scenes where Brad didn’t care and just laughed it off, where he was curious, where we even started dating, but I stopped entertaining those after last year.

I didn’t actually know if I wanted to cry. I didn’t know anything at that moment.

The familiar sound of the couch cushions creaking filled my ears as he turned to face me properly, his controller still clutched between his hands.

“Okay, listen, if I came out, would you judge me?”

I looked at him, startled that he’d even suggested it. He slept with so many girls that the only hint he wasn’t straight was when he sucked my cock. But that wasn’t what he was asking.

“No, of course not. You’re my friend.”

“Yeah, same. So why didn’t you tell me?” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, laser-focused on me.

“Because, um…” I knew my face had gone white, which made it even worse when I flushed.

“Is it because I sucked your cock?” he suddenly asked. One eyebrow shot up as his smile broadened.

“Oh, my God!” I yelled without thinking. Even if it seemed like we were alone in the living room, it didn’t mean all the guys were out. Though I should have thought of that before I told him I was gay.

He burst out laughing without a shred of awareness.

“No way. Did I turn you gay? Did my awesome dick sucking convert you?”

“Could you shut up? It doesn’t work like that.”

“So, you’ve always been like that?”

I winced as he said ‘that’. It was one of my predictions: that Brad couldn’t even talk about it because he was so grossed out.

The conversation was difficult enough already, even though being embarrassed seemed to take the edge off. So I clenched my teeth as I nodded.

“Cool, okay,” he said, shrugging as he glanced at the TV. “Well, I’m kind of disappointed because I thought it was a seriously good blow job, but whatever. You wanna play?” He nudged the blue controller toward me with his thigh.

“That’s it?” I asked after a beat.

“Yeah, I had to pause in the middle of a campaign, and I don’t want to lose my streak. We can talk about it more if you want, but you look seriously uncomfortable right now. I mean, I wanna talk some time, obviously, but I won’t force you to tell me shit you don’t want to.”

All my energy, all that worry and fear which had drowned me for years. Everything I’d obsessed over, became depressed over, even the times I thought about running away from home just to escape my feelings.

And he just swept it away with a simple conversation.

And, in the end, it was exactly like Brad. The Brad I’d grown up with, who only cared about tits and hockey—and me. The Brad who was happy to let everyone get on with their business as long as he could have fun. That was the Brad I’d fallen in love with. And I’d somehow convinced myself he would hate me as soon as he knew.

“So, do you wanna play?” he asked as I heard a click and he dangled my blue controller in front of me.

He was acting like nothing was wrong, like I hadn’t just confessed my second biggest secret. He had no idea what kind of hurdle we’d just leaped.

“Yeah.” I relaxed, threading my fingers through my hair again. Even after everything Brad had done to dress me up, my date was over, and it didn’t matter if it got messy now that I was back home with him. As long as he was smiling at me, or not looking at me like he was disgusted with me, it was all good.

I grabbed my controller, and Brad took us back to the menu to add me to his campaign.

“I got to the enemy barracks, but I keep dying. I fucking suck when you aren’t here.”

“That’s your problem, not mine,” I teased as I flicked through my options.

“Well, yeah, it is when you’re out. You were gone for ages.” He pursed his lips. I nearly groaned how stupidly happy I was that he was pouting over the fact I left him alone.

“How about ‘that’s great that you had a fun first date, but now I really want to get my ass beat at COD’?” I said.

“Should you be saying ‘ass beat’ when you’re dating a guy?”

My heart jumped in surprise, and I turned to find him beaming at me with zero reservations.

“Alright, nerd,” he said so easily that all the tension in my body flowed away. “How about ‘pounding my ass’?”

“That’s even worse.” I snorted, looking back at the screen, ignoring the huge wave of heat which burst through me as Brad laughed, and we got into the game.