Page 11

“It happens to the best of us,” Elio said.

“I wouldn’t put you up as an example of the best of us, but alright,” I said.

He flipped me off.

Underneath the jokes and teasing, a question was swelling like dark clouds on the horizon. They were wrong, though. I was a little scattered lately, but I wasn’t questioning myself. Not really. You could imagine something, and it didn’t make it automatically true.

“Okay, but seriously,” Jace said, nudging me with his elbow as we left the restaurant. “Did you two hold hands under the table, or were you just playing footsie?”

I rolled my eyes and pulled my jacket tighter. “You’re hilarious.”

“Come on, man,” Elio added, slinging an arm lazily around Jaxon’s shoulders like the smug bastard he was. “You ordered for him. You literally said, ‘He’ll have the…’ like you were his husband.”

I scoffed. “He couldn’t decide.”

Easton turned with a grin, walking backward like he was leading a damn tour group. “You also took the tomato off your burger and gave it to him.”

“He likes tomatoes. I don’t. That’s just resource management.”

Jaxon snorted. “Resource management. Wow.”

“Shut up.”

The four of them were having the time of their lives at my expense, feeding off each other like gossiping birds, and it was starting to make my skin itch.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked back before walking off.

Like he wanted to stay. Like he wanted me to say something that would make him change his mind.

And I hadn’t.

“So,” Jace drawled. “When’s the wedding?”

“Fuck off.”

Easton grinned. “Patrick and Shane sitting in a tree?—”

“Jesus Christ, I’m leaving,” I muttered, veering off toward the quad.

“Make sure your boyfriend gets home safe!” Jace called after me.

“He’s not my—” But I didn’t finish the sentence. What was the point? They weren’t gonna stop.

I lingered around long enough to finish my drink, then said goodbye.

Outside, I shoved my hands into my pockets and walked faster, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the heat crawling up my neck.

He’s not my boyfriend.

So why did it feel like I was lying every time I said it?

The sidewalks were quiet this time of night, just the occasional late jogger or someone dragging a longboard past the dorms. My shoes scuffed against the pavement as I cut across the grass instead of taking the long way around.

Maybe I had acted weird tonight. Maybe I had hovered too much, laughed a little too loud at Shane’s jokes, leaned in too close when he pointed something out on the menu.

I hadn’t meant to.

But when I was with him, it was like my brain short-circuited. Like something in me just softened.

I stopped walking without meaning to, standing under a row of bare trees behind the library. Shane’s dorm wasn’t far. Five minutes, tops. I could just swing by. I could pretend I forgot something.

Just make sure he got back okay.

I stared at the sidewalk, frowning.

Was that crazy? Would that freak him out?

But maybe he was still awake. Maybe he was sitting by his window, watching for me.

I huffed a breath and shook my head. What the hell was wrong with me?

It wasn’t a big deal to care if a friend got home safe. It didn’t have to mean anything. Except it did. At least, it felt like it did.

Because when Shane looked at me, really looked at me—which was the point of this entire goddamn exercise—like I was something more than just a dumb jock with a short fuse, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The intensity of his gaze was like a boulder dropped onto my chest.

That wasn’t friendship. Not really.

And I wanted more. Fuck, but I did. Even now, I wanted to stand in the corner and watch him, wanted to see the creamy skin of his inner thigh, run my fingers up its length, and feel…

My heart set off in a gallop.

I rubbed a hand over my face, dragging it down hard.

This was bad.

I couldn’t be that guy. The one who caught feelings and spiraled and blew up everything just because he was curious.

I wasn’t like this. This could disappear as quickly as it had crashed over me.

If the tide retreated, it would leave us both aground and stranded, and I didn’t think I could live with myself if I took a good person and broke them apart.

God, but I was like a child with a new toy truck, obsessing over it to the point of dismantling it irreparably.

But I couldn’t stop wanting him, either.

I stood there for another thirty seconds, chewing on the inside of my cheek, torn straight down the middle.

I knew I wasn’t gay. And unlike some of my friends, I also knew it was all a spectrum.

Instead of fitting into three or four generic slots, we were all a mash of gooey stuff that moved left and right and up and down.

Sexuality, gender, the size of your ears, it didn’t just stop at some point.

It kept on going. But with the exception of the ears, fluidity had the risk of staying in motion.

What if I went in? What if I pinned him against the wall? What if I did to him all the things my crazy brain was proposing, then blinked and found that I’d switched back? His first guy would be taking this thing away from him and leaving him dry… It sounded a lot like me to do just that.

Then I turned and walked away from Shane’s dorm.

Each step felt like dragging a hundred-pound weight behind me. He probably made it back just fine. He was a grown-ass adult. He didn’t need me hovering.

But I wanted to hover. I wanted to knock on his door and pretend I had a reason, just for the chance to see his face again. To feel whatever it was that lit up in me when he was around.

I didn’t look back.

If I did, I might not stop myself next time.

And I wasn’t ready to find out what that meant.