Hidden Feelings (Quick Bites #1)

Chapter 1

Paranormal Activity

“Mmm,” Derek moaned, shoving the last forkful of the lasagna I’d made for dinner into his mouth. “That was delicious.”

Lasagna was supposed to be an easy meal, and fun to make. Nothing hard.

However, watching Derek’s lips move around the fork, something was definitely hard.

It just wasn’t the lasagna.

Pushing the image of his tempting lips out of my mind, I managed to pull myself together and smile. He didn’t know that half the reason for my newfound culinary talent wasn’t because I genuinely liked making food.

It was because I liked it when he ate it.

I shifted in my seat, willing that boner to shrink immediately. “Glad you liked it.”

He winked at me, flashing that lazy lopsided grin that always made my heart skip, before standing up, his chair screeching against the hardwood floor.

There it was again.

That signature Derek charm I loved so incredibly much.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said.

“Anytime.”

Derek nodded. “Pretty much perfect, honestly.”

“Pretty much?” One of my eyebrows raised. “Do you have improvements, critic?”

He chuckled. “It would’ve been an even more perfect dinner if you hadn’t brought your loser ex-boyfriend up. He leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

“A bad taste, huh? Couldn’t tell with the way you gobbled up every piece on your plate.”

He laughed, pushing his chair back against the table, and I swear it took every bit of my self-control not to openly stare at his face.

Grabbing my empty plate, I trailed after him, trying to play it cool. But my eyes? They had a mind of their own.

I didn’t mean to, but my eyes drifted, taking him in from behind: the tank top stretching across his shoulders, boxers riding low on his hips, the way the muscles at the back of his thighs flexed with each step as he sauntered into the kitchen—

Nope. Not today, Satan.

I looked away fast, forcing my gaze anywhere but at him.

If there was one thing I’d call Derek Garner, it’d be a wicked angel sent to torment me.

Rippling muscles. Perfectly styled dark brown hair. Eyes that made you melt in their caramel hues. He was something you should only see in a wet dream, yet here he was in the flesh. As if God and the angels had wanted to add a dash of sexiness but accidentally spilled the whole bottle when creating him.

Yeah, that would be the only way to describe this beautiful specimen of a man.

On top of all of that, Derek wasn’t a horrible person. He was a nice guy. Like, actually, a genuinely nice guy. He was the kind of guy who volunteered at homeless shelters or walked drunken girls home from parties, not to get into their pants but to ensure they got home safely.

He was godly.

Perfect.

And unbelievably straight, which was just my luck.

Every time I felt my heart swell around him, I fought to keep myself from descending deep into the pits of wanting something I couldn’t have.

Hence . . . the torture situation.

Still, I was lucky enough to be his roommate, even if it meant pining for him from a distance like an idiot.

We lived a few miles off campus in a two-bedroom apartment. The place predominantly belonged to him. I was more like a sub-renter, and wasn’t paying as much as I knew I should be paying for living in such a luxury apartment as this, but Derek insisted on charging me the regular amount you’d pay for a college dorm. So I made up for it in the little ways I could.

I made sure to make our little home as hospitable and nice as possible.

With the huge discount I was getting on rent, I didn’t want to freeload on his generosity, so instead of him paying for cleaning services as he’d originally planned, I insisted on taking up those tasks.

The cooking was just an added benefit. Just a way for me to feel connected to him—a pathetic way, but hey.

Pathetic, at this point, was my middle name.

Our arrangement didn’t bother me. I mean, that’s what a good roommate would do, I presumed. Plus, this semester Derek had been incredibly busy. He had an internship class, so was gone for long hours at work, and when he wasn’t, he spent his time at the library, catching up on his studies. The weekend was for baseball practice.

We had lived together since freshman year, but even now in our senior year, Derek still glowed with satisfaction and gratitude whenever he saw the efforts I put in to making our place comfortable. There’d be something that would twinkle in his eyes, yet before I could decipher anything, like usual, he would turn and walk away. I dared to let myself think, at times, that we were almost like a happily married couple.

Pathetic.

I know. It really was sad, how much I enjoyed the domestic bliss we had going. I knew Derek did too, food not withstanding.

“I knew living with a gay boy was a good call,” he would sometimes tease.

And I’d laugh and flip him off with a playful, “Fuck you.”

Coming from someone else, that might’ve been taken as a backhanded compliment, or even a sly insult. However, Derek didn’t mean it that way. He grew up with his gay uncle and understood the nuances of the culture. And his uncle and I got along just fine.

Derek wasn’t one of those homophobic pricks I’d encountered a few times on campus. He was cool with gays.

It was just a shame he wasn’t one himself.

Though I wasn’t sure how cool I was with him being cool with it, because Derek was way too comfortable—like really, really comfortable—with nudity or getting changed in front of me.

I mean, I didn’t mind in the slightest. A good piece of eye candy never hurt.

On more than one occasion, he’d just strip naked or walk around in his towel after a shower. It wasn’t like he was parading himself, per se, I just don’t think he understood what his body did to me.

An athlete’s body, with a model’s face and a dreamy smile, his hair dripping wet trails down his glistening chest... Lord almighty, it took everything in me not to ogle him like a damn pervert and grab the nearest object to hide my boner.

His comfort around me was another kind of torture. Hell, he probably didn’t even realize the effect he had on me.

I’m not sure when my attraction to him started. Maybe it began after I broke things off with my ex, or maybe it was always there, buried in the background, waiting for me to notice. Either way, of late it seemed that background static of attraction had kind of ... tuned in somehow. Like it used to be just fuzzy and now it was in crystal clear IMAX high definition.

That is to say, I’ve always thought Derek was hot.

But lately he’s melting my brain.

I’ve been seeing him in a new light, catching all the small details I’d otherwise overlooked.

A lot of it had to do with how great he was to me through the whole breakup situation. Derek showed up for me in a way none of my other friends did during that time. Like how he would send inspirational quotes to me every morning and check on me throughout the day until we were both at home. He’d buy my favorite cookies on his way home after baseball practice. He even got a nipple piercing when I casually mentioned he’d look cool with one.

It was that and a thousand other moments that really cemented my attraction. The little shoulder squeezes. The way he’d cocoon next to me on the couch when we were watching TV together, or his random foot massages that I liked so much.

Yeah, being his roommate was both a blessing and a curse.

Still, we worked well together. I knew my boundaries. I didn’t dare make any moves at all because I liked what we had going on.

Instead, I decided to just return the sentiment. I also stepped up my care for him.

I would remind Derek about important class tests coming up, or doctor’s appointments, and I’d sometimes drive him to and from everything since he didn’t like driving. In return, he would keep me in check—like reminding me why I broke up with my ex-boyfriend, who was constantly trying to get back with me. My ex and I had a toxic relationship, to say the least, but after months with no sex I’d started to think he wasn’t that bad, that I should call him and maybe after a few drinks we could... you know, finally seal everything off with one last time together.

Derek had this uncanny way of noticing whenever I was “in the mood.” Probably because I would be moping around the house like a lost kitten, complaining about my dry spell. He took that as his cue to lecture me about all the horrible things my ex had done to me. In the end, I would give up the thought and find a way to... find other means to... Oh, you know what I mean!

Today was a frustrating “it’s been five months without sex and I think I might just die if I get no action” kind of day, and as usual I’d been complaining to Derek about it all through dinner, teasing the idea of meeting up with my ex one last time.

I suppose he was more than just my roommate now. Somewhere along the line we’d become good friends. Best friends even.

Derek headed toward the pile of dishes in the kitchen sink. “Hey, I got this.”

Hmm. That little sparkle was back in his eyes, but I couldn’t make him wash that huge pile all by himself. So I joined him, stepping up beside him at the sink. “How about this. I wash, you rinse and dry?”

“Sure,” Derek said with a shrug. Then he smirked. “Only wish you were as good at making decisions about your love life as you are at cooking.”

I shook my head but couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across my face. “I’m decisive enough to feed your sorry ass, aren’t I?” I elbowed him lightly and reached for the sponge.

Big mistake.

My arm brushed against his and it sent a jolt straight to my core. I clenched my jaw, trying not to think about it... or him... or how close we were.

It was always like this. Being near him was like being hit by lightning.

Every time.

But not for him.

Only for me.

The torture.

“Guess I can’t complain,” Derek said, oblivious. Then he pinned me with a stare, his smirk shifting into something more serious. “But honestly, you should just block your ex already. Stop letting him mess with your head.”

I already knew this would end up in another lecture, but I had no one else to vent to.

“I’m just saying . . .” I avoided his gaze as I washed up, passing the plate to Derek. “We never had breakup sex... so would it really be that bad if I texted him back? Would it actually be so bad if we had one more night together? Just to finalize things and say goodbye? He texted me last night again and... he’s clean, and I know him...”

Derek groaned. “Kyle, I mean it in the nicest way when I say I want to smash this plate over your dumb head.” His eyes flicked to me and then narrowed. “I’m going to assume you didn’t do anything to ask for that text in the first place. Did you?”

“No,” I murmured, pouting. I really should have blocked him on my phone months ago, because once again my curiosity about what my ex-boyfriend was reaching out about is coming back to bite me in the ass. “It was a late-night booty call kind of situation.”

“So he sent you an unsolicited picture of his penis?”

I huffed, scrubbing hard at something nonexistent on the plate in my hands. “It was a video. A cumshot video. Uh, he knows that’s my weakness.”

“And...” Derek trailed off, and when I turned my head to the side to look at him, he really had the plate raised, ready to smash it over my head.

I held up soapy hands in a gesture of surrender. “It worked, okay? It was a good video!”

Derek shook his head “May I remind you why you never had breakup sex? It’s because he was cheating on you with about ten other guys. How can such a person be clean—”

“He got tested afterward,” I exclaimed. This was turning into an argument pretty quickly, and I badly wanted to keep it from getting worse. It seemed that lately, all our arguments were centered around my ex-boyfriend. I wish it was because Derek was jealous or something, but I knew deep down it was because he was an amazing friend and roommate. “He showed me the results.”

“Uh, yeah, but if he slept with that many guys when he was with you, how many guys do you think he’s fucking now ? For all you know he could be making up those test results. I’ve seen it happen plenty of times.”

“He was grieving back then when it happened,” I said in my ex’s defense. “His grandpa had just died...”

I stopped, aware that I sounded even more pathetic as soon as I said it. It shouldn’t ever be an excuse for cheating, regardless of how one grieves. I knew that, but at the time I was willing to forgive him because of it.

Ugh.

I might still be willing to, really.

If it meant that I could get some of this sexual frustration out.

I risked another glance at Derek and I knew I had it coming when I saw his jawline tick.

“So the only way he could feel better was by dipping another guy’s balls into his mouth?” Derek exhaled and gave me a flat look. “Man, your standards go out the window for him. What’s so good about him anyway? As far as I can tell, he’s not even an attractive dude... Like, you’re way better looking, and you have more going for you.”

“It’s not about him being good,” I groaned, closing my eyes for a moment. “Okay, fine, I’m horny. It’s been forever. There—said it. I’m worried my dick will fall off if I don’t start using it soon.”

“Aren’t you a bottom?” he asked, his brows knitting together.

I rolled my eyes. “You really don’t know how gay sex works.”

“No, I don’t,” he confessed with a smile. “Enlighten me.”

I blinked. “What?”

Derek’s cheeks flushed a little. “Well it’s not like I’m going to ask my uncle or anything. Tell me what I’m missing here that’s worth going back to this dude for.”

My heart hammered in my chest. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he nodded.

I took a deep breath, picking up another soiled plate. I couldn’t believe we were about to go into that territory.

“Well, it’s not like straight sex.” I huffed. “Plus, the pool of who you can fuck is smaller, especially at our school. There are like . . . nine out of all the closet gay guys in our year, and most are taken, or lame and weird, or ugly, or whorish . . .”

“Like your ex,” Derek chimed in. “Who is all of the above. It’s been five months,” he said, his voice softening.“Give up on him for your own good.”

Right. Derek would never understand the difference between him and me when it came to finding someone for a good lay. He had it so easy with his good looks and outgoing personality. Plus he was on the baseball team.

“All you need to do to get laid is exist. You basically just walk outside and girls drop at your feet. They’re everywhere! Like vultures! I’ve never seen so many women willing to stab one another for some action with you!”

Derek laughed. “It’s not like that. I still need to... try.”

“Oh, please.” I snorted, rolling my eyes. “I’ve seen you enter a room and girls offer to sleep with you. Like that girl who hit on you last week at the library.”

“That’s not true!”

Yeah, right. “I literally watched it in real time,” I said, deadpan.

When that girl flirted with him, he flirted back with practiced ease. I had to bury myself in my laptop and pretend the sight didn’t sting. “So you didn’t sleep with her?” I arched my brow. I knew he did. I saw the evidence of it when I went to take his clothes for laundry that night and saw an open pack of condoms in his pocket, with three missing out of the pack of twelve.

Derek stared at me, his perfect eyebrows knitted together. “This isn’t about me. We’re getting off-topic. This is about you and how you’re not getting with your ex. I’ll do anything to stop this train wreck.”

My mind went places it shouldn’t have gone with that “anything,” and I shifted, hoping he couldn’t see the growing bulge in my pants.

Derek continued, completely oblivious to my discomfort. “In fact, I’ll help get you laid, okay? Come with me to Sam’s party on Friday night. We’ll mingle and find you a nice piece of ass to... well, grip onto, ’cause as far as I know bottoms don’t do the... poking.”

I snorted, returning my focus to the dishes “You’re correct, we get plowed.”

Derek bumped his fist against my shoulder. “Well look at that, those are the types of details that don’t bother me.”

My face warmed. “I really don’t think you need to know them, Derek.”

“I want to know everything if it means I can help you not get back with that loser, Ky.”

The nickname made my chest ache. “I appreciate that.”

Derek grabbed the soapy dish from my hands and rinsed it. “I’m more than just a pretty face, you know. I can help you out with stuff like that.”

“Stuff like what?” I looked at him.

Derek shrugged. “Finding you a new guy to get under so you can get over that asshole.”

I shook my head. “Hm, I never thought I’d get a wingman slash roommate slash best friend rolled into one. Slow it down there, buddy,” I laughed.

“So you’ll come?” he asked, ignoring my comment. “To the party?”

I stared at him. “I don’t know... These frat parties, they’re always kind of... loud.” Sam was Derek’s teammate and the de-facto party organizer for Beta Sigma Phi. He was often here at our place in between lectures. A “Sam’s frat party” meant a guaranteed hangover the next day, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with that.

To be honest, it wasn’t like I would actually die if I didn’t get some dick. I’m not some crazed, horny-ass guy seeking the next piece of meat he could find. There was more to it than just that.

My whole frustration of wanting to get laid was so I could finally convince myself that I’d moved on from my ex, and also to get over these hopeless feelings I was developing for my roommate. The best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one, as Derek had so accurately pointed out. The earlier I could set my attention elsewhere, the better it would be for me to get over this crush.

That’s all it was. A crush.

I didn’t want to ruin everything over a crush brought on by loneliness and sexual frustration. I didn’t want to mess things up with Derek, or let anything slip out by accident that would make him all of a sudden self-conscious and uncomfortable around me. You know, like a stare that goes on for too long, or an inappropriate remark, or god forbid he notices one of these accidental boners that pop up at the most inconvenient moments.

Yeah, I didn’t want to fuck things up.

I hummed, thinking hard about the offer.

“It won’t kill you to get out of the house and out of your shell for one night,” Derek prodded. “And who knows, you could even end up hooking up with your soulmate. Trust me. I’m a total matchmaker. I’ve hooked up all my mates.”

“Yeah, with girls,” I countered.

“How different could it be?”

Right.

He continued, totally oblivious to my skepticism. “If anything, guys would be easier. You know when it comes to guys they’re far keener to think with what’s in their pants than girls are,” he continued.

“Not with each other.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Well, a lot of guys are coming from other schools, so stop being a pessimist. I’m going to get you laid by the end of this week, my friend. Mark my words.”

In a locker room kind of way, he smacked me on the ass.

My muscles tensed. A rush flooded through my veins. My whole face felt hot.

For a second I just stood there, totally frozen, thrown off by the unexpected smack.

“So you’re in?” he asked, mistaking my stunned silence for hesitation about the party.

It wasn’t. At least not anymore.

“Uh, yeah. Fine. Sure.” I shrugged.

Apparently, all it took was a smack on the ass from him, and I would agree to just about anything.