Page 19 of Straight to You

RYDER

D espite the small moment of relief when Logan told me his coworker was willing to help us this morning, it all vanishes with another goddamn email. This guy has some seriously fucked up timing.

Every time I hear my email notification go off, it feels like a trigger. I try to tell myself that it’s anything but another message from the one person who’s seemingly deriving pleasure from ruining my life, but as soon as I see the sender's name, my stomach drops.

Subject: You're not listening.

I didn’t want to be upset with you, Ryder. I really didn’t, but you keep ignoring me. Pretending I’m not here. Pretending he matters more. I’ve been nothing but patient. Why don’t you realize he’s holding you back? You know you’re meant to be with me. So why won’t you admit it?

Bile rises in my throat, and it feels like a punch straight to the gut.

Whoever this is genuinely believes they’re good for me.

That Logan is the one standing in the way of our supposed happiness.

How do they not see how deranged this is?

How could they possibly believe this invasive approach would work?

That threatening Logan would somehow make me want them?

If this is their idea of a romantic gesture, I don’t even want to know what they think disturbing looks like.

There’s no universe where this is ever okay.

No sane person would be interested in someone who stalks them, who invades their privacy, and then acts like they deserve a reward for it—and in this case, it feels like they think I’m the reward.

They’ve wedged themselves into my life and made me feel like I’m constantly being watched, and they think I should be grateful? That I’d respond to their email with a ‘yes, come save me’ plea and a trail of exclamation points?

It’s fucking delusional.

Logan is everything to me, and somehow, this stalker is the only one who doesn’t know it.

“Logan,” I call out.

“Yeah?” he asks, coming over and sitting next to me on the couch.

I turn my laptop toward him, the email still open on the screen.

He grabs it, and his eyes narrow as he reads the email. “What the actual fuck?” he whispers, almost to himself. “They’re trying to make it sound like they care about you? And I don’t? What kind of twisted shit is this?”

I shake my head because I don’t even know what to say. I don’t understand their game here. “It feels like they really believe there’s something between us, and you’re somehow in the way of that. I don’t know. ”

Logan clenches his jaw so tight I’m worried he’s going to crack a tooth.

“That’s fucking crazy,” he hisses. “They’re acting like I’m holding you fucking captive or something.”

I don’t respond yet, giving him time to process this and be angry. His rage is keeping him steady and giving him something to hold onto, while I feel like I’m barely staying afloat. I need him to be the one who holds it together.

“Fuck them, Ry,” he says as his face burns a deeper shade of red. “How can you admit something when there’s nothing to admit? I don’t understand what the fuck they think is going on, but it’s clearly a one-sided delusion on their end, and your lack of response should make them see that.”

I nod, but it doesn’t help because it feels like they won’t stop. I crawl into Logan’s lap and bury my head into his shoulder for comfort. His arms wrap around me immediately, and he rubs slow circles over my back.

“You don’t have to be okay right now, Ry,” I hear him whisper in my ear before he turns and kisses the side of my head.

“What if they don’t stop?” I whisper, voicing my biggest fear, even if the words barely make it out. “What if it gets worse?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I wish I did, but I don’t and fuck, do I hate this, Ry.

I’m so fucking sorry you’re going through this.

” He pulls back from me a little until I’m able to look him in the eye.

He cups my face with trembling hands and rubs his thumbs over my cheeks.

“I’d do anything to make this stop,” he says with a broken look on his face, and I know it physically hurts him to see me like this.

“I know you would,” I murmur. And I do know.

I know he’d burn the whole world down if it meant keeping me safe.

If there was a way to erase every email, every invasion of our privacy, every fucked-up feeling crawling under my skin, and guarantee I’d never get another email from this person again, he’d do it in a heartbeat and I wouldn’t even need to ask.

But this isn’t a movie, and we don’t have high-profile connections or a secret skillset we can tap into to take Kyle, or whoever this is, out. We’re just two regular guys who are trying to navigate this terrifying situation to the best of our ability.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead before pulling me back into his arms. We stay like that for a long while until I finally roll off his lap to get some water.

Logan stands too. “I’m going to forward myself the email, and then I’m gonna call Matt. You okay for a minute while I do that?” he checks, and I nod.

As soon as he walks away, I’m hit with regret once again.

I feel guilty for dragging him into this situation.

He doesn’t deserve to be treated like some obstacle instead of the one person who makes me feel safe.

He shouldn’t have to live looking over his shoulder because some anonymous asshole decided I belong to him when I don’t.

It’s not fair to me, but it’s definitely not fair to him.

I should be the one protecting him right now, not the other way around.

My throat tightens as I think about everything Logan has done for me since this whole situation started. He’s cared for me, distracted me, and let me fall apart when I couldn’t hold it together anymore—and he’s done all of it with so much compassion.

And last night…fuck.

I swallow hard, dragging a hand through my hair.

Last night wasn’t a heat-of-the-moment ‘I need to get off’ experiment with him. It was everything . It confirmed every thought I’ve been having about him and my sexuality. Running out of lube was the push we needed—I don’t know how we would’ve taken that step without that.

I feel like I’m turning into a character in one of the books I narrate—the guy who has a bi-awakening with his best friend. And honestly? I’m not mad about it at all. I want more.

Logan walks back into the room, his hair somehow even messier than before, but just as sexy. “Matt’s looking into it,” he says, dropping onto the couch beside me. “He’s gonna see if he can track the IP address. Might take a couple of days.”

I nod, trying to focus on his words, not the way his leg brushes against mine. “That’s...good. Yeah, good. Thanks.”

He looks at me suspiciously for a moment, and I feel like I’m giving myself away. “You okay? You’re looking kinda flushed.”

“Yep. Fine,” I say a little too quickly.

He gives me a look like he doesn’t buy it, but he also lets it go, and I appreciate that, because I still don’t have the words to explain what’s going through my mind. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

How the hell am I supposed to explain what I’m feeling?

That after a decade of friendship—and a lifetime of thinking I was straight—I suddenly can’t stop thinking about him.

About his hands on me. About how good it felt.

I told him I’m likely bi this morning, but I didn’t say the rest. Didn’t tell him I’ve been thinking about him constantly.

I nod instead of opening my mouth, because what I really need is for him to touch my dick again.

But I can’t say that, and he doesn’t touch me.

Well, not in the way I want. Every time our arms graze or his thigh bumps mine, it sparks something low in my gut—something I don’t want to stop.

At this point, I’m half tempted to duct tape his hands to me .

I feel like I’m turning into a creeper myself because I can’t stop admiring him. Can’t stop looking at his stunning blue eyes and his even more ridiculous blonde hair that I now imagine tugging as I kiss him senseless.

He shifts slightly, leaning forward to toss his phone on the table, then leans back just enough that his shirt rides up to reveal a trail of hair that disappears into his waistband. And fuck, how have I never noticed how hot that is before?

“You wanna watch something? Or, I don’t know, play a game?”

I blink, pulling myself out of whatever trance I was in, and stall for a second. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Whatever you want.”

He raises an eyebrow. “That’s not like you. Normally, you have opinions about everything.”

I shrug, hyper-aware of how close we’re sitting and still wanting him closer. “Guess I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Alright,” he says, his expression softening into something warmer. “You’ve been through a lot. Don’t beat yourself up for feeling out of it. I’m happy to make the decisions for us if you want.”

I nod, it’s the exact thing I needed to hear. Well, almost. What I needed was for him to say, “Take out your cock and let me take care of you.”

I know, I know. He touched my dick once and I’ve turned into the neediest, most desperate version of myself to ever exist, and I’m not even sorry. I can’t find it in me to feel bad at all.

He lands on a sitcom rerun, the kind with horribly annoying canned laughter and bad jokes, and I try to let it pull me out of my head.

Yet as the minutes tick by, my focus keeps slipping back to Logan.

He’s a magnet now, my magnet. I’ve always wanted to be around him, but this feels different.

I’ve never felt this drawn to someone before.

I didn’t know this type of connection or level of desire was possible.

Even when I saw him jerking off in the shower, it was more so curiosity. But knowing what his hands felt like on me changed something in me. He must have some magic touch because it’s all I can think about. It’s all I want to think about.

I don’t even realize I’m blatantly staring at him until he catches me. “What?” he asks, lips quirking into a grin.

“Nothing,” I say too fast, looking away as my cheeks heat up.

“Sure,” he says easily. Then he shifts closer, his tone softer. “Come here. Let me hold you, Ry.”

About damn time.

I scoot closer without hesitation, turning to face him instead of the TV. His arms wrap around me, and I melt into him. I didn’t even know how much I needed this until I had it.

“There,” he murmurs against my ear. “That’s better.”

I exhale a shaky breath, my head tucked beneath his chin. His fingers start tracing slow, soothing circles on my lower back, and I feel myself finally letting go of all the weight I’ve been holding.