Page 43 of The Frathole

I agreed to show Ryan some tango moves if he would help me with girls, and somehow that resulted in us locking lips and leaving me questioning everything I’ve ever known about myself.

Not actually saying that. Obviously. So I keep those words locked in my throat, replying, “I headed up to bed early.”

He shrugs, then glances my way, his eyes bulging. “If you went to bed early, why do you look like you didn’t sleep all night?”

While it took Ryan maybe ten minutes to doze off, releasing that familiar deep breathing he does when he’s out, I spent thenight rolling around in the sheets, my brain scrambled and my cock refusing to give me a moment’s peace.

Maybe because I was busy thinking about Ryan’s touch, his tongue teasing mine, his hot breath against my face. And while Ryan was sleeping like a baby, I found myself resenting him again, only this time because he left me in this confused state.

Am I into guys? I must be. But if that’s true, why didn’t I find that out until last night?

“I went up to bed but stayed up thinking.”

“Ah. Sounds about right.”

Nice to know I’m known for being so packed full of anxiety that this doesn’t raise any red flags for my buddy.

Last night, I considered whether I should say anything to him. He’s my best friend. He knows what it’s like to be attracted to guys and girls. Maybe he could help me understand what’s going on, but I’m such a bad liar, if he starts probing, he’ll work out it was Ryan I was doing stuff with. No matter how much I don’t like the guy, I wouldn’t put him in that position.

Not that he seemed particularly rattled, but it was easy to leave the world behind and be stupid in bed together, letting those primal urges control us when we didn’t have to think about what it’d be like this morning. Or how it would impact our lives beyond a few kisses.

“I’m gonna make an omelet,” I say, imagining if I got busy with something, it would help me relax. “You want one?”

“That’d be good. Thank you! Was gonna need something else besides this cereal anyway. Gonna get my workout in at the weight room in a bit.”

“Mmm,” I hear from the living area before Ty saunters in. He’s got this look in his eyes, like he doesn’t even see me—can only see Lance as he approaches him, his hands sliding around his body as he effortlessly pulls him close and kisses the back of his neck.

A wave of heat moves through me. In the past, I would’ve assumed it was embarrassment from them being so intimate in front of me, but what if it’s because I find this hot? My therapist and I once talked about how I sometimes lack nuance in understanding my emotions—extreme, at times, black-and-white thinking. What if some of my confusion is because this uncomfortable emotion wasn’t embarrassment after all?

“Ty, would you like an omelet?” I ask.

“Sure, man. I appreciate it.”

“I’ll make one for Ash and Colin too.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate that,” Lance says. “I know for a fact those guys were up all night.”

“How do you know that for a fact?” I ask.

“Before they went to bed, Ash said he was determined to keep his man up all night, and I believed him.”

“Oh…”

I get cracking on omelets, considering if I should make Ryan one, but no, that’d be weird.

I’mbeing weird.

I’ve split one for Ty and Lance by the time the back door opens and Dax heads in, wearing a Zeta Tau jacket.

“You fucking traitor,” Ty teases, and Dax unzips it, revealing he’s shirtless underneath.

“Okay, how did this happen?” I ask.

“Isn’t it obvious? Ended up with a guy at Zeta Tau.”

“Yeah, but why do you have his jacket? I assume you messed around at his place. He couldn’t give you a shirt?”

“We were at the park, actually, and I’m not sure where I left my shirt. I asked to borrow his, but he wanted me to take something more substantial to make sure we’d get together again.”