Page 8 of Straight to You

RYDER

W hen we arrive at the lake, it’s almost empty, and I’m grateful for the space to be with Logan. He grabs a blanket from the trunk, and we walk over to a grassy spot on the shore for him to spread the blanket out.

“Think Kyle’s gonna follow us here, too?” Logan says dryly, tilting his head toward me as he drops down.

“Not unless he’s got some type of GPS tracker on us.” Though I wouldn’t put that past him, honestly.

I hand him the coffee and bagels as I move to sit beside him.

He takes his bagel out of the bag, then hands mine to me.

The silence settles as we start to eat, and I let my gaze drift out over the water, trying to make sense of the way everything in me still feels scrambled from the last twenty-four hours.

Something’s shifting in me, and that scares me almost as much as it thrills me.

The feelings I’m having toward Logan are new, and I’m not sure what to do with them because I’ve never looked at another man this way before.

Not once. Not even with how much my work has tried to sell me on falling for your best friend over the years.

I’ve been straight my whole life—or at least I’ve always thought I was. So why am I so aware of every inch of space between us on this blanket? Why did watching him in the shower make my whole body light up like it was wired for him ? The reaction had been instant.

He’s still staring out at the lake, and I catch the way his thumb brushes slowly up and down the side of his coffee cup. It’s such a small, meaningless motion, but for some reason, it makes me want to reach for him and pull him into me.

I don’t understand what’s happening to me.

But instead of pulling him into me, I shift slightly, leaning back beside him, letting our bodies press together from shoulder to ankle. He doesn’t move away. If anything, he leans into me slightly, and the voice in my head screams ; I don’t want him to pull away.

How could I have missed something so significant about my sexuality my entire life?

It probably has something to do with my asshole dad. I always swore I wouldn’t be like him, and I don’t think I am, but he always scoffed at men who seemed a little too close.

He’d hate me if he could see me now.

He’d always make comments about things being ‘not right’ or about how ‘real men didn’t do things like that,’ whatever that means. He was a hateful prick, and I’m glad he left when I was young. I haven’t seen or heard from him since, and I don’t care to.

After he left, my mom seemed much happier and gave me room to be whoever I wanted. But even without his presence, I’ve never thought about other guys the way I'm thinking about Logan now .

I guess it’s possible I unconsciously learned to avoid anything that might have made him angry or unpredictable, and that would’ve included feelings about other guys.

But apparently, all it took was watching Logan stroke his dick in the shower last night to make me hard and wake me the hell up.

I wasn’t confused—maybe about what it means for us —but I’m positive I was turned on by him jerking off.

I’m very aware that if I’m into him, then I must not be straight after all, and I’m perfectly okay with that. Plenty of people discover their sexuality later in life—I’m just another one added to the list.

The thing I can’t wrap my head around, though, is that these feelings are crossing a line we’ve never touched before, and if we do cross it, there’s no going back. We’d never be the same Logan and Ryder we are now. Especially if he didn’t feel the same way, which I think is what I’m most afraid of.

I can’t ruin ten years of friendship for feelings I’ve had for less than twenty-four hours.

If Logan ever felt anything toward me, I think I’d be able to tell.

He’s always been open with me about his sexuality and dating interests.

He told me he was bi almost as soon as we met, and I told him it was cool and didn’t change anything because it didn’t.

I was glad he felt comfortable enough around me to say it out loud.

After that, dating stories and casual hookup talk became a regular part of our friendship. Neither of us had much going on that first year, but once Logan did start seeing people, I wasn’t a fan. Not that he was dating, just that he was spending time with someone else. Anyone else, honestly.

He only dated Jenn and a guy named Nick, who sucked, so that relationship didn’t last long.

But I remember how it felt when he spent more time with them than with me.

I told myself it was just a matter of being best friends, and it made sense to feel a little left out.

However, looking back, I can see now that maybe it was more than that.

When he wasn’t around, I didn’t know what to do with myself.

It always felt like something was missing.

Holy shit, I think I was jealous. How did I never notice any of this before?

I shift to take a sip of my coffee, pressing even closer to him, and it hits me.

I’ve never felt more at ease being this close to someone, but that ease is exactly what unsettles me.

Because it shouldn’t feel this natural to want more from my best friend when I’ve never wanted to be with a man before.

There’s an ache in my chest that won’t go away—the kind that whispers you want more.

And I do. God, I do.

But what does that mean for the version of me I’ve always known? The one who never second-guessed myself or my sexuality? The one who’s always been so sure I was straight? The one who never once wanted to hop in the shower with my male best friend?

That version of me was clearly missing something. But now that I know, I can move forward the right way. I’ve always picked Logan, maybe this means choosing him in a different way.

If he ever wants me back, that is.

Because what I feel for him doesn’t feel like some identity crisis. It feels right and natural, almost like something that’s always been there, waiting for me to catch up.

I glance at Logan, and something in me settles.

“You good?” he asks, noticing me looking.

I nod. “Yeah. Just glad we came out here. ”

He smiles at me before looking back out toward the water. “Me too.”

Logan is my comfort, my safe place, my person. Even if that’s all we’ll ever be, it’s enough. He’s always been enough.

We spend another fifteen or so minutes at the lake before we pack up and head back to Logan’s. As soon as we walk in, he drops his keys by the door and heads straight to the bathroom. I take out my phone to look at my emails because I need something to focus on that’s not him alone in the bathroom.

My inbox is mostly filled with newsletters I don’t remember signing up for, and some I’m almost positive I’ve already unsubscribed from.

There’s also a new audiobook inquiry from an author that’s in demand, which I’m stoked to see.

Plus a few responses to work emails I’ve sent, which I flag for later.

Then I spot what I assume is fan mail, but the subject line is a little odd, and so is the sender’s name.

[email protected]: You make it sound so real.

I hover my thumb over the delete button for a second, but curiosity wins, and I open it.

“I wonder if you know how many nights I fall asleep to the sound of your voice.”

Huh, that’s odd. There’s no greeting or sign-off, just a single line of text sitting there, staring back at me.

I’m sure it’s harmless, though, even if the sender’s name looks downright spammy.

Plenty of people get really into books—rightfully so—and it’s not the first time I’ve gotten a weird message like this.

I’m sure it won’t be the last, either. Just a passionate fan who forgot how emails are supposed to work, I’m sure.

“Everything okay?” Logan’s voice cuts through my thoughts as he makes his way over to me from the bathroom.

“Uh, yeah,” I say. “Just a weird email is all.”

“Weird how?”

“It’s vague,” I shrug, but I know he’s waiting for me to say more. “Like, ‘you make it sound so real,’ that kind of thing. You know, fans get attached to books. I’m sure it’s nothing. Happens frequently enough.”

His face looks cautious, as if he thinks I’m downplaying something.

“Let me see,” he says, holding out his hand expectantly.

I hesitate for a second before handing him my phone. It’s just an email, it’s not a big deal, and it’s not like I have anything to hide. Watching as his eyes scan the screen, I feel a twinge of unease that he’s going to say something I’m not going to like.

“Uh, Ry, this isn’t normal,” he says, and I try to ignore the unease it’s causing.

“It’s not that weird,” I argue, though the words feel hollow even as they leave my mouth. “Fans get invested. It’s part of the job.”

And it is, at least, that’s what I’ve always told myself.

I mean, I have public social media accounts tied to my narration work.

It’s not like I post anything crazy. It’s mostly just behind-the-scenes recording stuff, book promos, and the occasional photo of me.

But yeah, my real name’s attached to it.

Maybe I should’ve used a pseudonym. We’ve even joked about the ‘in love with your voice’ fan comments before, so an email like this isn’t that weird.

Logan crosses his arms and levels me with a look that can only mean, who are you kidding .

“Do fans usually send creepy messages like this? They didn’t even include a name or any context.

It’s weird, Ry. I feel like none of your other ones have given this vibe.

This one’s just got a strange feeling to it. I don’t know how to explain it.”

I shrug again. “I mean, no, but people like my voice, right? It’s why I keep getting booked. It’s a compliment, really.”

Logan doesn’t look convinced as he hands me back my phone. “Still. I don’t like it.”

“Same, but I doubt I’ll hear from this person again,” I counter. The last thing I want is for Logan to worry about me even more.