15. Ethan
15
ETHAN
JUNE
I get up, stretch, and head to the kitchen. The smell of coffee hits me first, and then I see James sitting at the island, engrossed in his phone. He’s holding a half-eaten apple as his brow furrows, and then his laughter fills the room, making me jump with surprise.
“Dude, what’s so funny?” I ask, pouring myself a cup of coffee.
James is grinning from ear to ear. “You’ve got to see this,” he says, tossing his phone to me.
I take a seat next to him and glance at the article on his phone. It’s from a sports/celebrity/entertainment gossip magazine, the kind I stay far away from, and right there, in full color, is a sneaky picture of the two of us at dinner last night. The headline: “SPARKS FLY? Boston’s Rookies Share a Romantic Night.”
My eyes widen. “What the hell?”
James chuckles and shakes his head. “Yeah, look at the way they spun this. We apparently went on a romantic date and gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes the whole time we were there.”
I groan, rubbing between my eyebrows. “Seriously? We were just having dinner.”
“Guess we seemed a little too cozy,” James says. “But come on, you’ve got to admit it’s funny.”
Even though I’m still feeling things I shouldn’t, I can’t help but smile. “I guess. But now everyone’s going to think we’re dating.”
James shrugs. “Nah. Nobody with any common sense is gonna think that.”
His casual attitude throws me off. My tension eases for a second, but at the same time, something heavier settles in. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just weird, you know?”
“Totally weird,” he agrees, taking another bite of his bagel. “But hey, at least we’re famous now. Welcome to the big leagues,” James raises his coffee cup in a humorous toast.
I laugh with James, trying to brush off the article like it’s no big deal. But inside, I’m falling apart, just like yesterday morning. Seeing those pictures and the way the magazine spun our dinner into something romantic is like a cruel joke, because as much as I try to suppress my feelings for James, they’re growing stronger.
I don’t know how much more control I have left in me, both in terms of my feelings for James and for not letting those feelings mess up our friendship.
Part of that involves pretending that nothing is wrong, which means that James’s casual jokes aren’t likely to stop anytime soon. I could try asking him to tone the flirting down, but I’m hoping to dodge that uncomfortable conversation. Even if avoidance causes my downfall.
Sipping my coffee, I force a smile. “Yeah, I guess we’ll have to be more careful about where we eat,” I joke, hoping my voice sounds steady.
“Or we can keep giving them some more content, keep ‘em guessing.”
James pivots, moving on from the article and poking at some game on his phone. He’s so carefree, and it makes me jealous. James is off limits. He’s straight. But seeing those photos and imagining what it would be like if they were real?
I’m really trying not to let that get to me.
“Hey, are you okay?” James asks. “Just thought I’d ask since you weren’t feeling great yesterday.”
“Yeah, I’m just thinking about today’s game,” I lie. It’s not that I never get moody, but I just couldn’t keep myself together yesterday after waking up in James’s arms.
James nods, accepting my answer. “Yeah, it’s gonna be a tricky one, Philadelphia’s doing well this year, but we’ve got this.”
“Totally,” I say, forcing enthusiasm into my voice.
As James goes back to his phone, I take another deep breath. I can do this. I just have to keep doing what I always do with attractive straight guys and keep pushing my feelings down until they go away.
Right before practice starts, we’re walking into Greenwall Park when James elbows me.
“Yo,” he says. “Look to your right. Two o’clock.”
I do. There’s nothing there.
“Huh?” I ask, totally confused.
“There’s a photographer.”
I squint and I can barely see the glint of a lens above a bush. James is grinning widely, and I cock my head at him, trying to get him to tell me what he’s thinking.
“I wanna mess with them a bit.”
Before I can say anything, James grabs my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine. I’m frozen, not sure what the hell I’m supposed to do. I don’t even know what I want to do right now.
“Dude, what are you trying?—”
“Relax, I’m just giving them something to talk about,” he says, pointing toward the bush with his other hand.
James theatrically leans his head on my shoulder, barely long enough for the photographer to snap a picture, before releasing my hand and marching into the building. I follow, dumbfounded. My hand still buzzes from his touch, and I press it against my treasonous heart that’s reading way too deeply into the whole thing.
The photos hit social media within an hour. James scours the internet as we change, seeing if anything comes up, and when he finds a post, he laughs hysterically.
“Hey, check this out,” he instructs, thrusting his phone into my face.
There, clear as day, is a picture of James holding my hand. I swipe to the next picture, and that one shows James flipping off the photographer.
“Isn’t it great?” James asks. “Now everyone is gonna think that it’s all a huge joke.”
I don’t know about that. I didn’t see any comments, but if there aren’t any now, there will be in a few minutes.
The hanger holding my jersey snaps as I yank it out of my locker a bit harder than I need to. Cursing, I pick up the pieces and compose myself. I need to focus on the game ahead of us, not this stupid, hopeless crush I have on James.
Oh shit. It’s a crush. Not one that I’m trying to prevent, but an actual, full-blown, debilitating crush. I pull my hat down low over my eyes, blocking out the locker room lights as I lean down to tie my cleats. My stomach tightens as I try to push the swirling thoughts out of my head, but they just keep coming back.
Why can’t I be friends with James without wanting something more? He’s straight, and he’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. I shouldn’t feel this way. I know it’s not going anywhere, so why does my brain insist on going back to the impossible?
It’s not like this is new because I’ve dealt with this shit before. Hell, a ton of guys I’ve been friends with over the years almost turned into some kind of crush, but I always managed to shove everything down, ignore the annoying sparks of attraction, and move on. But with James, it’s different. He’s so damn affectionate. He’s always touching me and making romantic, flirtatious comments like they’re a normal part of friendship.
What I would give to be one of those guys who can hang out with their straight friends without falling for them.
I hate this.
I stand up and head toward the dugout because I have to think about something else.
But when James slings his arm around my shoulder and tells me that this game is going to be the best one ever, I lose my train of thought and fall even deeper into the bottomless pit of feelings I have for my unfairly hot, charming friend.
I’m so fucking screwed.