Page 112 of For the Fans

My brow furrows. “Are you sure? You were pretty gung-ho before…”

“Yea, well, I changed my mind,” he snaps.

“Okay…” I hold my hands up. “Sorry.”

He huffs out a tired breath. “It’s just… late. I’m exhausted, and I don’t feel like watching gay porn right now.”

My lips twitch. “I didn’t say we had to watch itright now…”

“Fine. I guess you can send it to me.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ll watch it tomorrow. After the dust has… settled.”

The dust has settled?? What the hell does that even mean?

I take a few slow steps over to him, and he backs up. I roll my eyes. “Are you freaking out?”

“No. I’m notfreaking out,” he grumbles. “I’mfine. I’m just tired. I played the most intense game of my career tonight.” His eyes flick to the clock. “Well, technically, last night. Jesus, it’s almost four a.m. I gotta go.”

Nodding, I step in front of him as he goes for his coat.

He huffs and blinks hard. “Avi, please don’t fuck with me right now. I’m tired.”

“I’m not fucking with you, I just…” Pausing, I consider what I’m trying to say. “I want to make sure you’re alright.”

His jaw ticks. “Yea, I’m fuckingpeachy. I just had secret gay sex with my stepbrother. I’m living the dream.” Grabbing his coat, he whips it on like he’s having some sort of tantrum.

“Kyran… It’s okay to be bi, you know…” I murmur, curling my face to try to meet his eyes.

He glares at me. “I’m notbi, I’mbroke. And the sooner you get that through your head, the better off we’ll all be.”

Okay… and we’re back to asshole Kyran. Great. Love that guy.

Stepping dramatically aside, I hold my arm out, gesturing to the door. “You’ve made your point, dickhead. Have a great night.”

He nods at me, standing still for only another moment before he stomps past me.

“Congrats on the game, by the way,” I mumble sarcastically, rolling my eyes at his back.

He pauses and turns around, staring at me. I stare back at him. And we stare at each other in silence for a solid five seconds, during which no one speaks and I’m wondering why the hell he isn’t justleavingif he can’t wait to get away from me.

His lips part. Then they close. Then they part. Then close again. He takes a step forward, then a step back.

What the fuck is he doing… Dancing?? Is he waiting formeto do something??

Finally, he breathes out a long exhale and bites his lip. Inching over hesitantly, he kisses me on the jaw and mumbles, “I’ll text you.”

Then he spins and darts out of the dorm room like he just dropped a bomb on my face.

I stand in that one spot for far too long, gaping at the door. When I eventually wade through my state of bewilderment, my hand lifts to my face, fingers brushing my jaw.

What the hell was that…?

Blinking out of it, I wander into the bathroom and take a shower. I’m in there until the water runs cold, my mind whirling through images that are now accompanied by hectic sensations. Once I’m out and dressed, I fidget near my video camera.

I should wait to watch the video… Wait until thedusthassettled.

What the fuck dust needs to settle, anyway?? It’s sex.

We had sex. That’s it. No dust.