Page 16 of Full Split (Forbidden Goals #8)

NILES

The balmy night air buzzes against my skin. I thought the walk home would help me calm my mind, but it's doing nothing to help the ache in my chest.

It's not like this is the first time Wyatt has turned me away, and I'm sure it won't be the last if I continue the way I am.

But for some reason, it's bothering me more than last time.

Maybe it's because we were so close—close enough that I could feel him, hard and trembling, against my body.

So close his breath mingled with mine and made my lips tingle.

So close I thought, for the smallest moment, that he might actually kiss me.

I wanted it so badly I almost cried when he pulled away.

He wants me. I know he does. As much as he'd like to, Wyatt can't hide his reaction to me.

He's fought this every step of the way, but he still can't deny that his body, at least, is very interested in what I have to offer.

More than that, he looked at me like he's hungry.

Like he could devour me whole. Like he's starving for me.

He's afraid of how much he wants it. I can see it every time I catch him watching me. It's something I've been using to my advantage. I could keep going this way. I could throw myself in front of him again and again and again until he breaks. Until he gives in, even if it's just for a moment. If I could just get that moment— just one —I’d make it so good he wouldn’t be able to resist coming back for more. Until he’s so ensnared in my trap he can’t go a day without my touch.

But is that really what I want?

I stop at the edge of the sidewalk, staring up at the dark outline of my house.

Mom’s car is in the driveway next to mine, and there’s a flicker of movement in the faint light behind the curtains.

She’s probably curled up on the couch watching something ridiculous, like Pride and Prejudice and Zombies .

My legs feel heavy as I walk up the steps and unlock the door, not ready to plaster on a smile and false confidence.

Sure enough, Mom’s watching TV in the living room, something with Kathy Bates standing in front of a bonfire being ominous.

She’s holding a half-eaten pint of dairy-free ice cream, spoon paused mid-air between bites when I walk in.

Quickly, she shoves the spoon in her mouth and holds it there while she picks up the remote and pauses the show.

“Hey baby,” she says, smiling and angling her cheek for me to drop a kiss. “I didn’t expect you home this early.”

“I’m headed back out,” I tell her, but sit next to her and steal the ice cream instead of going upstairs to get ready. “I have a date,” I say through a mouthful of cookie dough, slouching down in the seat and leaning my head on her shoulder. “What are we watching?”

She laughs. “ American Horror Story . What time are you supposed to meet up with this date?”

I shrug and hold the ice cream back up to her. She shakes her head, gesturing for me to keep eating.

“What’s wrong? You aren’t nervous are you?”

“Nah, that’s not it. Just not sure I want to go, after all.”

Mom tilts her head to look at me better, and I angle my head up so she can see that I’m fine. I don’t want her to worry.

“So then why are you going?”

I huff out a humorless laugh. “Because I’m bored, and right now what I really want feels like such a long shot, it might not be a possibility.”

Her brows knit together. “Well, that sounds like bullshit.”

I lift my head off her shoulder and pull back, laughing for real now. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Niles, you’re the most determined, capable young man I’ve ever met. There has yet to be even one obstacle you haven’t been able to overcome. If there’s something you want in this life, something you truly want, you’ll move mountains until you succeed. You always have.”

I smile faintly, but I’m sure it doesn’t reach my eyes. If only she knew what it is I really want. If she had any idea that it’s him. Wyatt Lincoln. My best friend’s dad, a man that has been there for me almost my entire life. A man she knows I’ve looked up to since I was a kid.

He’s what I want more than anything.

Not just a relationship. Not just love. Everything. With him.

I want it more than any success, any praise, or medal.

More than Olympic gold, even.

I want to be his. Not just because I’ve tricked him into bed. Not just in secret, stolen moments when no one’s looking.

I want to wake up in his arms. To hear him say my name like it means something more important than a close friend or someone he feels responsible for.

I want him to choose me. Not just because he’s at the end of his rope, but because he truly wants all of me.

Being a toy is fun sometimes. Being his toy would be every fantasy I’ve ever had.

But I want more. I want the impossible.

I don’t say any of that out loud, of course. I just smile and nod and head upstairs to get ready for a date I know won’t fill the emptiness inside me.

Only he could fill me the way I need. Physically and emotionally.

I show up to the bar well after the time I was supposed to meet some guy named Jeff.

I just couldn’t do it, and honestly I’m not sure why I’m here now.

Just trying to get out of my head, I guess.

But instead, I pick at the scab. I hang back in a dark corner and pull out my phone.

Instead of opening the app I use to meet people with, I open my messenger and type out a text to Wyatt.

ME: How long before you admit it?

He answers surprisingly quickly, and I chuckle at the name I use for him in my phone. It started as a joke, mostly to taunt Weston about his hot dad. I’ve kept it because it’s funny, but also because I love to tease Wyatt with the nickname.

DADDY: What?

ME: That this is a thing.

DADDY: What is?

ME: You and me.

DADDY: We’re not a thing.

ME: You sure about that?

DADDY: We can’t be.

ME: Why not?

DADDY: You know why.

I sigh audibly, checking my surroundings again before I look back down at my phone.

ME: Tell me that you don’t want me.

DADDY: I don’t want you.

ME: Liar.

ME: Tell me to my face.

ME: I bet you can’t.

DADDY: Goodnight, Niles.

ME: Night, Daddy

Then, just to be a brat, I hold my phone up and take a selfie.

I'm wearing skinny jeans and a plain black tank top, my hair is purposefully mussed to look like I party more than I actually do.

The shadows around me make the photo look artsy and moody, the light from my phone making my skin look pale and shiny.

It's clear I'm at a bar or club, and it probably looks like I've been here for more than ten minutes.

It looks like I'm having fun. Like I didn't ghost the guy I actually came here to meet.

I watch as the picture sends, then gets marked as seen. Three little dots pop up, then disappear, then pop up again. Eventually, the dots go away and it becomes clear he has nothing else to say. Nothing else that he's going to share with me, anyway.

Shoving my phone in my back pocket, I head over to the bar. As I'm about to order a drink, the bartender hands me one of their signature shots in a test tube.

"From your friend over there," she says, gesturing with a thumb over her shoulder.

I look over to the opposite side of the bar and see a man with an athletic build, probably in his mid to late thirties, with dark blond hair neatly swept back.

He's wearing a snug-fitting dark blue V-neck t-shirt, showing off a full sleeve of tattoos and a large, but not gaudy, expensive watch.

He's talking to a cute little twink wearing a dark pink crop top and blue cutoff shorts and seems to be holding their attention pretty well.

Still, he looks over at me, locks eyes, and lifts his drink.

I chuckle and lift mine as well, raising an eyebrow towards the sexy little thing he's chatting up.

His lips turn up on one side, and he winks before turning his attention back to respond to something the cute guy just said.

I take the shot, order another round for myself, Jeff, and the guy he found to take my place. At least he doesn’t seem pissed that I rejected him.

I make my way to the dance floor, wanting nothing more than to lose myself for a little while.

My head is a little sore and fuzzy the next morning when I wake up. I don't normally drink much, but last night, I needed something to shut down the rapid spiral my thoughts had taken. A sedative might have been more effective at getting Wyatt out of my brain.

Jeff helped, actually. He seems like a decent guy, which, if I'm being honest with myself, is hard to come by when you're cruising hookup apps.

It's rough out there, especially when there are more than a few guys who think like Peter does about my transition.

I'm always very clear about being trans in my profile, because I've seen the aftermath of what could happen otherwise.

Then again, meeting strangers on a hookup app can be risky no matter who you are.

I have a love-hate relationship with hookup culture.

I love that I can usually find a quick lay and get all the important logistics out of the way before meeting.

Once we're there, there's no beating around the bush about why we're there and all the little details have been squared away.

Everyone's usually prepped, ready, and knows what to expect.

The problem is when you want something more than a quick hookup. Something that doesn't end in a quickie, especially when the guy hits it and quits it before you have the chance to get off. It takes me a little more than some guys are willing to give. I suppose that's to be expected, too.

Jeff isn’t what I expected. He might actually be the kind of guy to take me home and show me a good time.

Hell, from the time we spent hanging out last night, he might even be the kind of guy to take me out and have a good time before he takes me home.

He seemed willing enough to put in the work to get me interested, at least. He spent the majority of the night laughing and dancing with me instead of the cute twink, and didn't even try to get me to go home with him. He seems… nice.

As I hit the pavement for a morning run, I consider how much easier my life would be if I stopped pretending I have a chance with Wyatt.

Truthfully, I might not. Just because I get his dick up doesn't mean he's interested.

Maybe I should stop pressing the issue and put my efforts into someone who actually is interested in me.

Then again, if I didn't think there was any interest, it'd be easier to walk away. But he wants me, I know he does.

Still, there's the question of what happens after.

If he did sleep with me… What then? Would he avoid me even more than he does now?

I can't imagine a world where Wyatt isn't on the sidelines, encouraging me with that gleam of pride in his eyes.

A world where he's not spotting me, always there to catch me if I fall.

I've been stuck on Wyatt for so long, I'm not sure I'm capable of letting it go.

I'm so lost in my thoughts I don't realize I'm about to pass another runner until I'm nearly shoulder to shoulder with them.

"Damn, you just had to show me up like that?" Wyatt laughs, and my mind clears. He seriously has no damn right to look this good.

"Sorry, I was in my head," I say with a short, breathless laugh.

Wyatt slows beside me, and I automatically match his pace.

"What's on your mind?"

I glance away, not wanting to admit that I was obsessing over him. Again.

He studies me for a few moments, then softens. He slows to a walk and reaches for my arm. "Are you okay?"

I stop and turn to face him. I think about letting it all out. What would he do if I said it all out loud? Told him how deep in this I am. How this isn't just physical, or some crush. How I'd give everything to have even a chance to be his.

My mouth opens, then closes, because I really don't know what to say or if I should say anything.

My phone vibrates. I pull it out and look at the screen, finding a message from Jeff.

JEFF: I had fun last night. Hope you have a good day.

Huh. I wasn't expecting that.

I look up into Wyatt's hazel eyes. He's still watching me, his expression unreadable.

"Yeah," I say, pocketing my phone. "I'm all good. See you later, Wyatt."

I jog off before I change my mind and do or say something stupid.