Page 4 of Straight to You

LOGAN

T his week sucked big time, so thank god it’s Friday.

Ryder came over on Tuesday and brought homemade cookies that his mom had mailed to us.

Well, technically mailed to him , but we both know she expects him to share.

That woman loves to bake, and even though we live three hours away, she still sends us care packages like we’re college kids and not twenty-eight-year-olds.

She remembers everyone’s favorite treat, and while there’s typically a variety in her packages, there’s always an extra batch of peanut butter blossoms because she knows they’re my favorite.

Ryder likes to joke that she does it to bribe me into looking after him, but I know it’s because she enjoys making people feel loved.

Not that I’d ever need to be bribed to take care of Ryder.

Unlike Ryder, I grew up only twenty minutes from where we live now.

This is the only place I’ve ever known. People always talk about how important it is to get out of your hometown, and I get it, I do.

My older brother, Michael, always talks about how great life is in Baltimore and how I should visit more often.

I always thought I’d leave after college, but once Ryder said he wanted to stay, any plans I had to leave just.. .evaporated.

And I don’t feel bad about it. Nor do I feel like a failure.

I know it probably sounds co-dependent, but all I’ve ever wanted since I met him is to be where he is. He’s my person, and when you find that, you don’t just walk away from the thing most people spend their whole lives searching for.

It’s the reason I buried my crush all those years ago, because Ryder’s friendship means more to me than getting caught up in any romantic feelings I know won’t be returned.

Whatever this is between us, it isn’t about romance.

It’s about knowing someone inside and out.

He’s home, and I’m okay with our relationship staying exactly as it is, because having him in my life at all is enough.

Sure, staying limited my job options, but I like my job, even if I complain about it frequently.

It’s the only marketing agency in town, and I got hired right out of college after a successful internship with them, and I’m proud of that.

Maybe someday I’ll apply for a job at a larger company, or go all-in on freelancing—the thought crosses my mind every now and then when I see old classmates posting their fancy promotions online.

But the truth is, I’m not in any rush to trade the life I have for a longer commute or a pile of new stress.

Right now, I’m happy with what I have: Ryder and our Friday night rituals, a steady job that lets me live a comfortable life, and my parents living close by.

This week, though, has been a grind with multiple last-minute call requests and too many emails marked ‘urgent’ that weren’t even close to it.

Usually, I’d head to the bar and start decompressing solo until Ryder eventually showed up.

But tonight, I’m not in the mood to drink or socialize without him.

I just want to see him—let him help me loosen up just by being around before I have to deal with anyone else, even if I do pretty much like everyone in there.

Plus, I’ve missed him this week. It feels like we’ve barely had a chance to catch up, aside from the few hours I saw him on Tuesday.

When I finally make it home from work, I drop my bag on the floor and decide to hop in the shower. Knowing Ryder, he’ll probably still be another twenty minutes or so, but I send him a quick text anyway to let him know I’ll wait for him.

Logan:

Waiting for you tonight instead of heading to the bar. Just come in when you get here.

He replies instantly.

Ryder:

Cool, heading over soon.

I bring my phone into the bathroom, put on my favorite playlist, and turn on the shower. Undressing as I wait for it to heat up, I light the candle on my vanity. As soon as I step under the water, it feels like some of the tension from the week starts to melt away. God, I needed this.

I grab the bar of soap and run it over my chest, working my way down.

When I reach my dick, my hand lingers a little longer than necessary.

I wasn’t planning to jerk off, but after the week I’ve had—and the fact it’s been months since anyone else has touched me—it’s hard not to think about it.

Just the thought of someone else’s hand on me and a body pressed up against mine is enough to get me hard.

Ever since last weekend, my thoughts have continued to drift back to Ryder, no matter how much I try to remind myself to keep him in the friend zone. I can’t shake how protective I felt. Or how jealous.

Fuck it. He’s probably still at least fifteen minutes away, and my dick’s fully hard now from thinking about him.

I wrap my hand around myself and start stroking—and fuck , it feels good. I let my head tip back and try to focus on the sensation, but my mind keeps drifting back to Ryder.

Fuck, why can’t I stop thinking about him?

I give in to the thoughts because I’m already too far gone to stop them.

I imagine Ryder standing there, broad shoulders that draw my eyes to his pink nipples, then lower, to the faint trail of hair leading down his stomach, guiding me exactly where I want to go.

His chest rising and falling, lips parted, as he watches me drop to my knees in front of him.

God, I want to touch him. Taste him. Hear him.

His skin would be warm under my hands, and I bet if I touched him right, he’d let out one of those breathy little moans that would wreck me.

My strokes get faster, and a low moan slips out as my body starts to tense. I’m close, so fucking close?—

“Uh, Logan?” Ryder’s voice hits me like a lightning bolt, and I freeze.

His voice came out so soft, like he wasn’t sure if he should speak or disappear out of the bathroom door without a word. My heart is pounding as I turn toward the glass door of the shower, making eye contact with him. Even though I wasn’t facing him, he knew what I was doing.

“Ryder—” I manage, my voice surprised and my cock still hard in my hand.

“I…um,” he starts, “Logan… ”

He doesn’t finish but the way he says my name feels like a zap straight to my dick. It was breathy and so fucking sexy.

He stands there completely unmoving, not looking away.

His eyes are locked on mine—or at least, I think they are.

It’s hard to tell through the steam. They could be locked on my cock, which seems less likely, but not impossible, I suppose.

The glass is just foggy enough to blur the details, but not enough to hide the way his lips part slightly or the flush rising in his cheeks.

He is looking. He must be. And I’ve never wanted to turn the shower to cold faster.

He seems to be stuck in place, waiting for me to do something, and my cock is throbbing from whatever is happening right now. I love the feel of his eyes on me, the blush on his cheeks, the way his lips are parted. Just like I imagined.

His hesitation feels like a dare. So, I take it. I’m way too turned on to be thinking clearly right now.

I start stroking myself again as I keep my gaze focused on him. I want to know what’s going through his head right now. Is he hard? Does he like what he sees? Does he want to take his cock out and stroke himself? Strip naked and get in the shower?

Fuck. The thoughts circle fast, heat winding in my gut quickly, and I’m close again. Just from him standing there, watching me, and I can’t help but let another moan fall from my lips.

That sound must snap Ryder out of his trance because he quickly lets out a nervous little laugh and steps back from the doorway.

“Um…sorry,” he gulps. His voice sounds nervous now, like he doesn’t know what the hell to do.

“Guess I’ll, uh…wait out there. Try not to take all night,” he says on a breathless laugh.

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but the words are stuck in my throat as he walks out the door and shuts it behind him without so much as a backward glance in my direction.

Why the hell did I do that? Did I just fuck up our friendship? What is wrong with me?

The silence he left behind is deafening and I let out a shaky breath, unsure what the fuck just happened.

But…he didn’t act like he hated it.

He didn’t storm out. He didn’t cover his eyes or pretend he hadn’t seen anything. If anything, I’m pretty positive his eyes did drop to my cock before snapping back up like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to look.

I don’t know what to do with that, but my hand is still stroking my dick, caught between adrenaline and desire.

The way he said my name is still replaying in my head, all breathy and unsure.

I’ve spent years stuffing those kinds of thoughts into a box and pretending they didn’t exist. Anytime something slipped through the cracks or Ryder got overly flirty with me, I’d slam the lid shut.

But right now, I don’t have that much willpower.

My vision from earlier shifts to him on his knees for me, looking up through his lashes with that same dazed expression on his face, is so vivid.

I imagine his lips parting and his face flushed and wanting.

Him sticking his tongue out waiting for me to slide my dick between his lips, and before I can stop it, I’m coming hard with a strangled grunt.

The water quickly washes my bad decisions down the drain with it.

I stand there a minute, chest heaving, trying to collect myself because Ryder is my best friend. Only my best friend—I seem to need to remind myself of that more and more these days—and I have to hope I didn’t just fuck up the best friendship I’ve ever had .

By the time I’m dressed and stepping out of the bathroom, I see Ryder stretched out on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He doesn’t look up right away, so I clear my throat and run a hand through my damp hair.