Hostile

“But what about you?” I turn as she lifts her head to look at me again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were into dudes? You know I couldn’t care less about that. If it’s your truth, it’s beautiful.”


I love my best friend. I may not be in love with her, but I love her. I kiss her temple and then tuck her back into my side. “I don’t know my truth.”

“What?”

I don’t know how to explain this, but I give it my best shot. “Until Grayson . . .” I sigh and shake my head with a small smile just thinking about him. “I didn’t feel attracted to anyone that way. I thought I was broken.”

“Tell me more.”

“I knew when someone was attractive, but I didn’t want to . . .”

“Fuck them,” she supplies, and I nod my head.

“Yeah. Until him, which makes no sense whatsoever. I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you, Bree. I was just trying to figure it all out, I guess. I still don’t get it.”

She turns her body so she can look up at me, a sad, sweet smile on her pretty face. “Tell me about him.”

“Grayson?” I gaze down at her in confusion, and when she nods, I shrug the shoulder she’s lying on. “You know him.”

She shakes her head, her hair moving against my shoulder and tickling my neck. “Not the real him. I know what I’ve seen at school and his jackass friends. I don’t know what led to you being attracted to him.”

I laugh at that. “Him being a real pain in the ass.”

Her nose crinkles, and her brows furrow, still with the pretty smile on her face. “What does that mean?”

“He saw me walking in the rain one day and insisted on giving me a ride. I was late for the mission, so I agreed, but the fucker wouldn’t leave. He stayed and volunteered too. God, Bree, he made Laney laugh. Full-on laugh. This kid who wouldn’t let anyone in, who has some insane trauma and trust issues, and he had her laughing on the first damn day within seconds. And then, he wanted to keep going back.”

She sits up straighter, watching me intently. “What else?”

“He draws.” I shake my head, still unable to believe it. “And he does it well. Ms. Holler showed me his old work, and it’s bold and bright. It’s perfect.” I realize I’m smiling way too big when her eyes light up, watching me talk about Grayson. I’m embarrassed and shrink back into the couch a little, wanting her to say something and move on from this awkward moment, but she keeps smiling at me.

“You’re an idiot.”

“What?” That’s not what I was expecting.

“Of course, you’re attracted to him. Those kids—volunteering—that’s the most important thing in your life. And he just waltzed in and was a natural with them. Hot.”

I fight a grin. “It was pretty cool.”

She lays back against my shoulder again, resting her head there. “We have issues. Fletch, you, and me. We don’t trust easily, not at all. It makes sense that you’d need a really solid connection before you could feel free enough to trust someone with your body.”

“Then why didn’t I want you?” The question may be hurtful, but it bugs the hell out of me. I can understand maybe I’m pansexual or even demisexual, but why didn’t I want Bree that way. She’s gorgeous, funny, and perfect in every way.

“Maybe you see me as a sister.” She shudders, and I laugh. “But also, I don’t think sexuality is that black and white. There are gray areas. It’s up to you what you identify as, I can’t tell you that. And if you don’t need a label, that’s okay too. But we both know I can’t draw for shit.” I snort because she can’t. She can barely draw a stick figure. She punches me and then goes on, “And those kids . . .” Her voice grows sad.

“Bree . . .”

She shakes her head, and she sounds like she’s about two seconds from sobbing. “I can’t be around them. Every time I went there with you, I felt like I was going to suffocate. And I feel guilty as hell because I got out and they didn’t, and they remind me of a time I don’t want to think about.”

I kiss the top of her head. “It’s okay. We all deal with our pasts in different ways. Something that’s therapeutic for me is traumatic for you. You don’t need to feel guilty about that.”

I feel her smile, and she wipes a tear from her cheek. “He can do that though. And he cares. I get why you see him that way. Why you can do stuff with him. And I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Bree. But this has to stay between us, okay? Please?”

“Of course.” She sits up and stares directly at me. “I won’t tell anyone. You know that.”

I smile because I do. I trust her. “I might tell Fletch but no one else until it’s a nonissue. Even Rhys and Blair don’t really need to know either. It’s no big deal.”

“What do you mean? You being in a relationship is a big deal.”

“It’s not a relationship. He’s leaving in September.”

She’s looking confused and annoyed now. “You’re going to let the one person you’ve felt a connection to just walk away?”

“It’s not serious.” I know it’s a lie, and so does she, but thankfully she only calls me an idiot again and lets it go.

I know it’s going to hurt like hell when he leaves, but I also know there’s no way he can stay.





THIRTY





“Lancaster, you coming or what?” I roll my eyes at Josh, who’s already showered and dressed after practice. I fucked up and dove during practice, taking a nasty slide into home plate and scraping the hell out of my knee. So I had to listen to coach lecture me for a good ten minutes about proper sliding techniques.

As if I give a damn about this last season of baseball. I should, I know. But I don’t. I’m just riding it out until the summer.

“You don’t need me to walk you out to the parking lot, do you, Potter? I think you’re big enough now. You’ll be okay.”

“I’ll show you big.” He cups his junk in total meathead fashion before flipping me off with a laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I nod with a grunt as he exits the locker room and wave at coach as he leaves, too, with another quick lecture. I strip off my t-shirt and move to my pants when I hear someone enter and turn around, shocked to see Rhett, looking totally out of place.

“Jesus, fuck. It stinks in here.”

I laugh. “What? You don’t like the smell of twenty sweaty guys?”

He shakes his head, his nose scrunching up in a way that’s too cute for his normal scowly face. “You finished with practice?”

I nod. “Yeah, but I need a shower.” I waggle my eyebrows. “Wanna help me with that?”

He looks around, his eyes darting through the locker room with guarded caution. “Probably not a good idea.”

I push my sweats down, leaving me only in my black jock, and turn away from him to push my pants off completely and, of course, shamelessly give him a great look at my ass.

I hear him clear his throat, not unaffected. “You’re a fucking tease.”

“No teasing here.” I walk over to him and grab him by the hips. “No one’s here.”

He looks down, admiring the jock and dragging his finger through the light trail of hair on my lower abdomen. “Can’t.”

We haven’t had sex since we left the cabin ten days ago, and I’m dying here. We’ve had a couple of mutual jerk-off sessions, but he hasn’t been inside me again. He’s been busy with work and volunteering, and I’ve had practice and homework out the ass.

“I miss you.” I lean into him, breathing him in, and soak up the beautiful smile he offers.

“I miss you too. I’m here because I thought you might want to come back to my place.”

“Yeah.” I nod my head far too eagerly, but I don’t care. I press a quick kiss to his lips and nod toward the shower and then down at my scraped-up leg. “Gotta wash this off really quick.”

His eyes move down to where I’m looking, and then they snap back up to my face. “What happened? Are you okay?”

The concern makes me feel warm inside, but I play it off, like always. “Of course. I’m an athlete. This is nothing.”

“Big tough guy,” he teases.

“You know it.” I push the jock off and walk to the shower, unabashed about my nakedness. He’s seen it all before, and I plan for him to see it again and again.

He takes a seat on the bench to wait as I quickly wash up, hissing when the soap stings my wound, but shaking it off quickly. I grab a towel and dry off, dressing and fighting everything inside me that wants to grab him and kiss the shit out of him here in the locker room.

I know he’s right. It’s too risky, but it sucks. I have Rhett—at least for the moment—and I want to brag about it. I want to scream it loud and proud, but I have to be smart. Careful. Like I’ve been for most of my life.

We walk out to the parking lot, and he leans against the hood of my car, looking around at the mostly empty lot now. “I told Bree.”

“What?”

“About us.” He looks shy about it, and I can’t help but smile.

“I told you that’s fine.”

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