Page 25 of Full Split (Forbidden Goals #8)

WYATT

Now that Weston and Niles have officially made the national team, things are full steam ahead.

Once we finally arrive home, they’ll be heading off to national team training camp in less than a week.

That’s barely enough time to process everything they’ve been through, much less an entirely complicated beginning to a new…

relationship? Situationship? Is that what the kids call it these days?

Whatever it is, it’s a mess and I don’t know what to do about any of it. I know that Niles and I need to talk about the hot tub. I’m not avoiding him. Not exactly.

I just don’t know what to say. How do I have a rational conversation about something I can’t even think about without reacting like a hormonal teenager?

I just need time. Once the memory of that night doesn’t threaten to give me a full-body spasm every time I close my eyes, maybe then I can figure out how to articulate my feelings.

Luckily, we’re too tired to do anything other than crash.

Weston locks himself in his room on our first full day back, only waking up long enough to let Aimee in when she arrives, and then they’re both lost in the dark cave of Weston’s bedroom.

When Brianne comes by to drop off a breakfast casserole— bless that woman —she says that Niles has pretty much done the same.

I throw myself into work to get ahead on the projects I’ll tackle while they’re gone for training camp. It’s unnecessary work, but it’s safer than thinking.

On our second day home, we head to the gym for a team debriefing with Sid. He’s fresh out of surgery, in a cast that covers him from hip to toe. The cast and crutches can’t detract from the fierce pride in his eyes as we open the doors to a very loud, very excited surprise party.

Everyone’s here. Every fellow gymnast that trains at Sid’s gym, every kid the boys have helped coach, their parents, every trainer, and really every other person who’s been part of Weston and Niles’ journey these past couple of years.

There are signs and banners everywhere, some made by younger kids and some professionally printed.

Balloons, streamers, and a cake with their faces printed on it that takes up almost an entire table.

Sid has one of the kids wheel out a projector and plays clips from Nationals on the gym wall.

Since we’ve been avoiding the news for the most part, and we’ve been so busy, it’s our first real chance to see any of the footage.

It’s a fun way to relive every big moment and every medal.

The whole party cheers like it’s the Olympics already.

Sid rewinds Niles’ second vault four times, shouting during every single playback, “Look at this! Look at this!”

Not that I can blame him. I was there. I saw it in person. But he’s right… Look at him.

Niles doesn’t look at me, though. He’s busy getting buried in hugs, handshakes, half-tackled by his teammates. Weston too. They’re having a lot of fun being celebrated. They deserve it.

Later, when most of the people have gone and the food tables have been pretty much decimated, I’m watching Weston lift Aimee up onto the pommel horse while I load empty pizza boxes and chip bags into trash bags. Niles walks over with a stack of plates to add to the bag.

“You shouldn’t be cleaning up after your own party,” I tell him. “Go hang out. Celebrate and have fun with your friends.”

“I’d rather have fun with you.”

I nearly drop the bag. Niles laughs and moves towards the next table. A little later, when most of the damage is cleaned up, Niles steps up beside me again.

“We should probably talk,” he says softly.

I close my eyes. “I know.”

“About the hot tub.”

“I know.” I groan before I can stop myself.

“Seriously?” he huffs. “You’re really gonna make me be the mature one here?”

“That’s not it,” I mutter. “It’s just… I’m still not exactly over what happened.”

“What does that mean?”

I shift and turn my back to face away from the main room, leaning back on a table. “Even just thinking about it still makes me feel like a thirteen-year-old having wet dreams,” I whisper, mortified.

Niles bursts out laughing. “Want to know what I had wet dreams about when I was thirteen years old?”

“God, no! Absolutely not.” I shoot upright and hold my hands out in front of me. “Not even a little bit.”

“What’s wrong?” Niles doesn’t look like he knows whether he should laugh or be worried.

“As far as I’m concerned, you and thirteen-year-old you are completely different people. I mean it. That’s a hard line for me.”

He’s still laughing when he bumps his shoulder into mine. “I get it. I do. And I can see how it would be difficult to see someone in a whole different way like this.”

“That’s the problem,” I admit. “It’s not that much of a struggle.”

His expression softens. “So… you liked what you saw, then?”

“Was that not obvious enough?” I’m not sure how much more obvious I could be, considering how hard and fast I shot.

“Depends. Be specific.”

I stare at him.

“What did you like about it?”

“Christ, Niles. I don’t think this is the right place for this, do you?”

He pouts. “I’m just curious what it made you feel.”

“It made me feel unhinged,” I tell him honestly, but a little forcefully. “It made me?—"

He leans forward. “Tell me.”

I rub a hand over my face. “It made me feel like I wasn’t tethered to my body. Like I could lose control and do things I really shouldn’t want to do.”

“You wanted more?”

“So much more.”

“Like?”

“I wanted to kiss you…” My unintentional confession comes out breathy and desperate.

His smile fades into something softer. “Then why didn’t you?”

“Because if I did, I would have been lost. I’d lose every bit of control I’ve got left.”

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but someone calls his name.

The moment shatters. Before he walks away, he turns to study me, like I’m a puzzle to figure out, then gives me one of his deadly smirks and says, “For the record. It was you. It was always you. Then and now, you’ve always been my dream. ”

Later that night, my phone buzzes. I know it’s him before I look.

NILES: Meet me at the treehouse.

There’s zero hesitation on my end, I’m practically tripping over my own feet to get outside fast enough. Weston is in his room gaming, so at least he’s not here to see me behave like a jackass. I can’t help it though. The words he said earlier have been running through my mind on repeat.

“It was you. It was always you.”

It’s dark out, and humid. The air is heavy enough that my T-shirt clings to me, sweat sticking to my skin as I push through the overgrown trees between our yards.

I haven’t climbed this thing in years. I know West and Niles still use it occasionally, just to avoid going the long way around, but I don’t remember the last time I’ve been out here.

The old wooden slats creak under my weight, but they hold.

When I haul myself onto the platform, I see him. He’s sitting cross-legged, with a blanket under him, and fairy lights strung around the railing casting everything in soft gold. His face lights up when he sees me.

I shuffle over and sit, leaning back against the trunk of the oak tree, heart hammering.

“You know,” he says quietly, “I didn’t think about it before I asked you here. Might’ve been an asshole move. Reminding you of West and I as kids.”

They used to come out here with a blanket and some battery-operated candles or string lights to eat dinner or play their handheld video games. They’d even fall asleep up here more often than not. Still, I can’t reconcile that kid with the man sitting in front of me now.

My lips twist into a wry smile. “What are we doing here?”

He smiles. “We needed somewhere to talk. But first…”

Then he’s moving, crawling across the platform and planting himself in front of me. On his knees, he’s slightly taller, so I angle my head up to see him smiling down at me. He brings his hands up to softly cup my face and leans down.

His lips are soft, and warm, and pliant against mine.

I feel like a bumbling idiot, but soon enough I forget where I am, who I am, and how easy it would be to make a fool out of myself.

I melt into the kiss, pushing into his mouth when his tongue softly licks against mine.

My arm snakes around the back of his waist, and I pull him closer.

He falls into my lap, knees falling to either side of my hips. I hold him tighter against me and kiss him like I’ve wanted to since the night he opened my eyes to every dangerous possibility. He tastes like salt and desire and every bad idea I’ve never let myself have.

My thin sleep pants are a pathetic barrier. I’m genuinely concerned I might bust through the fabric and impale him. He grinds down and I groan.

“Be nice to me,” I manage. “I’m too young to have a heart attack.”

“Poor old man,” he teases against my lips. He keeps rolling his hips against me, kissing and licking and nipping. His voice drops low. “Now tell me… what was it you liked about me in the hot tub?”

He doesn’t stop moving, that delicious friction and his words coursing through my veins like fire. “God, Niles.”

“What did you want to do to me? You wanted to kiss me, and then what?”

“I—”

His hands find their way under my shirt, and he rakes his fingers over my stomach.

I push up under the back of his tank top, relishing the feel of his skin beneath my palms as I drag them along the rippling muscles.

The whole time, he moves against me like he’s riding me, and the friction is too good.

Before I know it, we’re shirtless, breathless, kissing until I’m dizzy, writhing against each other. His back arches, and I lay him out, climbing over him.

I don’t even know who I am right now, but the sheer need coursing through my body takes over me. I kiss down his neck. His chest. Trace his scars with my tongue. He arches under me, his whole body trembling.

“I want to taste you everywhere,” I whisper.