5

I can’t look at Carter and do this.

I’m a selfish dick, so I avoid him. I keep Rory or Dorian between us. I look away from the faint shimmer of sand that dries on his shoulders. I ignore the pinch in my stomach when he calls me “bro.”

We return to the beach at the cusp of evening, and it’s like everything’s on fire. Music echoes from a stage, people wrestle in giant sumo suits and fly down slip and slides full of whipped cream.

I could see Carter doing all of it. Six months ago, I would have too.

But right now, I can’t.

I need to fill this fucking hole.

I head toward the Beach Hut. My toes curl into the sand as I go, my stomach heavy with that pit. I didn’t tell the guys I was leaving, I just went.

People are everywhere, the sun edging to the horizon, leaving everything in half shadows, neon necklaces and bracelets popping on.

The Beach Hut tent glows in the dropping sun. A line jigsaws out, and I step into it, my nerves ratcheting to pre-game levels.

A hand brushes my shoulder. “I was hoping to catch you.”

That accent. I turn and am plastered with Maxim’s deep brown eyes.

“Hi,” I say, kinda foolishly.

And… he keeps looking at me. He doesn’t seem bothered by the stretch of silence, but I’m getting antsy.

I clear my throat. “You texted me earlier.”

I guess he already knows that.

His lips twitch. “I did.”

“Okay.” I glance around, feeling outside of myself.

He leans in closer, something sweet like grenadine filling my nose. “You’re cute.”

You look cute bundled like that. Like a big pink worm.

Stop, Carter.

Maxim’s eyes flirt over my face. “What are you looking for?”

“I…” I swallow. He’s so fucking direct . “I’m not looking to…?”

His brows rise, waiting for me to finish.

“I’m not looking for anything serious,” I say.

He laughs softly. “I didn’t think you were. Let me show you something.”

He sparks with this kind of confidence that’s bone deep. Like there’s no need to waffle around what he wants.

This is what I wanted . The hard thump of my heart confirms it, the tension along my shoulders, and the contractions of my abs as I let his fingers slip into mine. His hand is cool, mine clammy.

His brows rise halfway. “You can say no.”

“Yes.” I croak out the word. “I want to say yes .”

“A’lrighty.” His brown eyes crinkle at the corners, Adam’s apple moving under the tattoos on his throat.

He leads me out of the line toward the rear of the tent, and I follow.

I want this.

I want this.

I want this .

Right?

He leads me to a set of gated stairs behind the tents, and as we climb, I force my eyes to linger on the ink on his triceps—visible in his tank top—the hang of his board shorts on his hips, and the flip of his sandals.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Getting a better view.” He twists to look at me. “Don’t worry, I won’t lead you astray.”

A thrum settles low in my gut as I climb the stairs, my cock thickening in something like anticipation. And maybe a bit of confusion too.

We come out at the top of the stairs, into open air. A rooftop that overlooks the bars and the beach.

“Holy shit,” I murmur, stepping over to the railing and looking down. It’s just the two of us, the entire beach laid out below. Neon necklaces bob in the darkening light, bodies swirl in the shadows.

“Beautiful, innit?” His melodic accent warms his voice.

“Yeah, it kinda is.” I grip onto the railing.

“So…” Maxim’s voice is right next to my ear, and the tendons along my neck tighten. “What do you want, handsome?”

What do I want ? My dick is somewhat hard, shoved against the seam of my shorts, the back of my neck tickling with his breath.

I want this .

Don’t I?

I mean, it’s what I’ve?—

A voice echoes across the crowd.

I don’t even know how I hear it, but I do. I always hear him. Above everything and everyone else.

Before I can stop myself, I search, and I see him. I can’t fucking help it. Carter’s laughing, loud and excited like he does, decked out in yellow neon, his arm slung over a girl next to him, whipped cream all over his chest.

I stare, my pulse stilling, my legs wooden, my knee so stiff that it aches.

He laughs again, and then she pushes to her toes and kisses him.

On the lips.

He flinches a little, but he doesn't break away.

He kisses her back.

He fucking kisses her back .

The world swims. Not from rocking on the waves or pink monstrosities or too much sun. It swims in a way that feels like it’ll never be right again. Like it tumbled off its axis and is hanging there, fucked for all time.

He kissed her.

Kissed her.

A sob chokes in my throat. A full-out fucking sob.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I just want this to be over.”

My heart hurts . And the world isn’t right.

It isn’t fair. It isn’t right. And I don’t know how to fix it.

I don’t know how to fix me .

My knee, my football career, I don’t know if I can be fixed.

The only thing I can do is just keep moving ahead. Keep trying to get through this. I just need to?—

“Handsome,” Maxim breathes next to me. “Do you want this?”

I don’t care.

I don’t care. I don’t fucking care.

I stand under the shower, water cascading over my head, my hands in fists against the tile.

I don’t care.

Not that he kissed her. Not that he’s somewhere back there, probably still doing it. Or maybe he went to her room. Maybe he’s spreading her legs as we speak.

I don’t care.

I don’t care that I just turned and booked it down the stairs without saying anything to Maxim. I don’t care that I couldn’t go through it.

There’s no way things can return to normal after this. I can’t see how I can go back to IFU, not playing football, living in the bedroom next to Carter, hearing his laugh through the wall, and not feeling like my guts are being ripped out. Every day there is this blanket that I don’t know how to kick off. Like I’m burrioted. I’m drowning.

And I especially don’t care that Carter’s voice repeats in my head, over and over.

“You’re so damn perfect, Theo. I love the way you tongue my cock.”

Love the way you taste.

The way you ? —

Love me.

Shower water pounds against my skull, it fills my ears, drags down my board shorts. I squeeze my fists harder, shoving them against the tile, my chest so tight that I can’t breathe.

And the words that make me feel better—those fantasy words from Carter—they’re all in my fucking head . They’re imaginary. They aren’t real.

I’m putting this on him. And it’s not fair.

I need to cry—a messy, embarrassing cry like I’d never do in front of anyone else.

But the tears don’t come. It’s like they’re rotting in me, clogged behind my eyes.

I’m so fucked up.

I’m hurt and I’m angry and I’m just so lost . I didn’t realize how lost until today. I didn’t realize what a tiny string I’ve been hanging onto.

And it’s worse without Carter, how he laughs, how he looks at me, how I am with him. I miss just being around?—

“ Theo .”

I squeeze my eyes, another sob welling. His voice is so real, like he’s standing right behind me. Like he’s?—

“Bro.” It comes closer this time.

Fuck, no . Please no. He can’t be here. He can’t see me like this.

“Are you okay?”

I jump when his palm clasps my shoulder, my fists sliding down the tile.

Pull your shit together . Act like nothing’s wrong. Act like two bros in the shower together over spring break.

I swipe the heels of my hands at my eyes. I swallow my tears. Then I straighten and turn.

He’s right behind me, the spray of the water wetting his banana shorts, plastering the fabric against his skin.

He kissed her .

My throat closes. I want to fucking cry. I want to give up. I want this feeling to be over.

I drag in an uneven breath. “Hey, man.”

Somehow, I keep my voice from shaking.

His lips part slowly.

Silence.

A waft of steam rises between us, and I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know how to look at him.

I need to crawl into the ballsack couch and go to sleep. Forget all of this. Go back to Colorado and… what?

Pretend that you don’t want him. That you’re not thinking about him every single time he passes by your door. That you’re not two seconds away from breaking the fuck down.

Yes, exactly that.

“I’m done with the shower,” I say. “You can finish.”

I go to step around him.

“Did he”—his jaw clenches—“do something to you?”

I freeze.

He knows . Holy shit, he knows.

I shake my head. “No.”

“I saw you go up those stairs with him.” His eyes are that dark amber, moving over me, from face to chest to knee and back. “And now you seem kinda fucked up.”

My pulse hammers in my temples. The spray of the water suddenly seems louder, the steam denser.

“He wanted to show me something,” I say, hating myself for not really answering. But I don’t know what else to do. “That’s it.”

His lips press hard. And I can’t sort out the expression he’s giving me.

He knows.

A fracture starts in my chest, and it splits my throat, tearing right through me.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I need to swallow it all back, like I’ve been doing for the last six months. Pretend that?—

“Did you blow him?” His big voice echoes in the darkness.

My eyes flash open. I’m shaking, and I can’t seem to stop.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” He swipes at his mouth. “It’s none of my business. I’m sorry. I?—?”

“No, I decided not to blow him.” The words are out before I can stop them, this bubble rising in my chest, billowing and expanding, and I can’t hold it in anymore. “But you fucking kissed her. You kissed her, Carter.”

His Adam’s apple rolls with a swallow. “Because you went with him. You ignored me all fucking afternoon. You’re so hot and cold with me, and then you went with him . And I thought—?” He shakes his head. “Fuck me. Just fucking fuck me. I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE .” He shouts so loud that it seems to fill every molecule of air, vibrating between us.

“Do what ?”

“Fucking want you.” His words seem to fracture all around us, falling hard in the shower.

My mouth opens, my heart smashing.

“I was ready to take on a whale for you.” He takes another step forward, and he’s right there—tremendous and overwhelming and emotions so strong that it makes my chest hurt. “Thirty-foot blow spout and all. And a slightly scary bartender. And the whole fucking world. I thought something was happening between us .”

I’m motionless. My heart, always so noisy, roots in my chest.

“I fucking hoped.” His voice cracks. “I hoped so hard. Needy, pebble-giving hope. And then you went up those stairs, and it all came crashing down. And I kissed her, but I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to forget. But I can’t.”

I drag in a shaky breath, but I can’t fill my lungs.

“ Fuck .” He bellows it out. He turns in a tight circle, bare feet slapping in the water. When he comes back to face me, he shakes his head. “This is messed up. You’re probably thinking that?—?”

“I hoped too.”

He blinks.

I blink.

He blinks again. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

His forehead wrinkles. “For… what exactly?”

The humidity clouds around us, hanging thick over our heads, the steady beat of the water over my shoulder, the slickness of the tiles under my feet.

I pause my fingers. “That maybe you’d”—just say it, say it, say it, say it —“want me.”

His eyes turn to saucers. “For real?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“ Really? ”

“Yeah.”

Jesus, the way he’s looking at me, eyes darkening, that bottom lip damp. Except… I have seen that look before. He looked at me like that on the plane. And when he brought me breakfast. So many times before that. Back at IFU, when he was helping me with my physical therapy or lifting at the gym.

He steps forward into arm’s reach, and a chill of adrenaline shoots through me. Then he’s closing the distance, and before I can think, his lips are on mine.

A full-body shudder racks through me, and then my mouth is full of him, his tongue, his taste, his groan, his lips slick with shower steam.

I grip his shoulders, yanking him closer. We shove into each other, moving backward. My shoulders slam into the tile, his weight settling against me, the wall cold against my ass. He squeezes the nape of my neck, his fingers digging in, and I moan.

This is what kissing’s like .

I had no fucking idea.

He yanks back. “We just did that.”

Steam lingers between us, moving in faint drifts as we breathe.

“It was”—I lick my lips—“my first.”

“Seriously?” He blinks at me. “You’re serious right now? Like your first kiss with a dude? Or…?”

“First kiss ever.”

“How is that possible?” He pauses. “Your first kiss was me ?”

“Yep.” I swallow hard. I’m still trembling, but a smile slips onto my face. I don’t know where it comes from, or how it makes it through all the other shit in my head. But it does—like it always does with Carter.

I clear my throat. “Do you want to go again?”