Chapter 6
Chapter Six
RYKER
Later that evening, I ruffled through my closet for something decent to wear. Even though I’d already showered after work, I’d taken another one just in case.
Sam and I were meeting up for dinner at a restaurant outside of town. And since Jones’ place was on the way, he’d offered to pick me up, which had me panicking for a whole other reason.
I was going to be alone, in a small space, with Sam. So of course, I had to shower again to make sure I didn’t stink and that all the construction grime had been washed off.
Picking a nice outfit was especially hard since my wardrobe consisted of T-shirts and jeans. We didn’t need anything too fancy around these parts, though I was now sorely regretting not tagging along with Jones when he went shopping in the city a couple days ago.
Jones was the more stylish one of the two of us. The man had a thing for apparel, and I honestly wondered where they were going to put Deke’s clothes, considering Jones’ closet was already filled to the brim. Maybe he’d turn my current room into a second closet?
Realizing I didn’t have to struggle alone on this—and that I was running out of time—I padded to Jones’ room. He opened the door not long after I knocked.
He had a brow raised as he eyed me up and down, stopping briefly to stare at my boxers, the only piece of clothing I was wearing.
“I know you want all of this”—he gestured down his own fit body—“but sadly for you, I’m a taken man.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed him aside to enter his room. “I need help. I don’t have anything to wear, and Sam’s picking me up in twenty minutes.”
Jones leaned against the doorframe, filling up the entire space. His arms were crossed as he watched me.
“Huh,” he said, his dark eyes seemingly looking right through me.
“What?” I shifted under his gaze.
“You really like this guy, don’t you?”
The statement had my heart beating faster. It was accurate, but at that moment, I couldn’t help but feel like it was an accusation. That I wasn’t supposed to like men, and it made me feel a little defensive.
“What? Am I not allowed to be bi?” I said, a little more harshly than I should have.
“What? No! You can like whoever the hell you want, and I’ll support you,” Jones replied.
Geez. Way to make me feel bad.
“Sorry,” I muttered and shot him an apologetic look.
He accepted it with a smile and walked to my side. “I’m just worried about you. You seemed off earlier. Are you okay with all this? With you know…” he waved in the air like that would magically clue me in on what he was talking about. “With liking a guy for the first time?”
I froze, and Jones seemed to have noticed, because he added, “It’s okay, you know? To be confused or, hell, scared when you’re experiencing something different for the first time.”
I shook my head because, while this was the first time I ever thought of being with a man, that wasn’t what I’d been worried about. It didn’t matter who I liked, because liking someone was never wrong.
“I’m not worried about that.” I paused, concerned that if I voiced this fear out loud, I’d only sound silly.
Jones kept his eyes on me, patient this time, as he waited for me to continue. It made saying the stupid shit out loud easier because I knew my best friend would never judge me. Okay, maybe he’d judge me a little, because who didn’t do a little healthy judging now and then? But he’d never hold it against me.
“I panicked earlier because I worried about the implications of what finding out I liked guys at my age meant. What if I’ve actually been bi this entire time, but I somehow put on straight goggles because it was a line I didn’t want to cross?” As soon as the words came out, I wrinkled my nose. “Even just saying it out loud makes me feel like a shitty person.”
A hard hand clapped my shoulder. “I know shitty people and trust me, you’re as far from the list as could be,” Jones said.
I smiled in appreciation. “Thanks, but what if I really had drawn a mental line, and that’s why I’ve never been aware of liking a man before now? What if the prejudice has always been there in the back of my mind?”
Jones was quiet for a minute, and my shoulders slumped. It confirmed that I really was a terrible person.
“Hey, stop thinking whatever you’re thinking,” Jones demanded with a tight squeeze. “There’s plenty of straight people who aren’t attracted to most people of the opposite gender. Does that make them prejudice against straights?”
My eyes furrowed. That train of thought wasn’t one I’d pondered. It felt like a complex question I had no way of solving. I’d never been the best at school.
“The answer is no,” Jones answered without waiting for me. Good thing he did, because a headache was already forming, trying to untangle that riddle.
“Being bi doesn’t mean you automatically like every single man or woman you see. It’s a spectrum. You could be straight ninety percent of the time, and then there’s the occasional man who catches your eye,” he said, this time making a lot more sense.
I nodded, and when I fully absorbed his words, I let out a huge sigh of relief, glad that deep down inside of me, I wasn’t like those mean-hearted people I disliked.
“And you don’t have to be bi, either. Maybe you’re pan or even demi? Though with all the girls you’ve brought out over the years, I doubt that,” Jones joked.
“You’re one to talk,” I said with a snort, then pushed him aside so I could get into his closet.
Before Deke, Jones had a whole parade of boyfriends, most of whom never lasted longer than a few months. Deke was his longest relationship yet, going on a year now, I believe.
Jones’ laughter followed me into his walk-in closet. I took his not stopping me as permission to raid it as I shifted through the nice shirts he’d hung up.
He leaned against the closet door frame, arms crossed over his wide chest as he tracked my actions. “You really have to learn to be more confident in yourself, you know?”
The sudden statement had me pausing on a leopard print shirt I’d never be caught dead in. I’d seen Jones wear it a couple times, and he’d somehow managed to pull it off. But even if I wasn’t fashionable, I still knew my limits.
“You’re a pretty awesome guy, you know that, right? And I’m not just saying that because you’re my best friend. And even if you can be exasperatingly dense at times, you’re still one of the best people I know,” he said, walking over to shuffle through his clothes.
He pulled out a bright teal button-up and held it up to me before muttering, “Washes you out.”
I looked in the mirror he’d hung at the end of his closet and agreed. The jewel-toned shirt was a nice contrast against Jones’ deep brown skin, which made him stand out in a good way. But on me? The color only made me look paler than I actually was, which wasn’t doing me any favors.
He pulled out another button-up—this time a dark shade of blue—and put it against my body.
“It’s like you’re a whole new man. I’d hit that,” he’d teased with a wink.
I looked at myself in the mirror and saw myself through his eyes. Besides the faint blush heating my cheeks, I did look completely different from my casual self. With just a different shirt, I was able to change my vibe altogether.
“Thanks,” I murmured, then added, “For this and, you know, what you said earlier.”
School had always been hard for me. The lessons our teachers gave could’ve been rocket science for all I knew. It didn’t help that with my big size, the other kids would tease me for being a ‘ giant buffoon .’ My friends and family always defended me, but constantly hearing you weren’t smart really took a hit on one’s psyche.
And then there was the fact more than one of my ex-girlfriends had broken up with me because I was either ‘ too stupid ’ or ‘ too slow .’ It took longer for me than others to process some things, and they never understood that.
“Anytime,” Jones replied. He shoved the shirt into my arms, pulled out a pair of jeans from one of his built-in drawers, and then handed that to me, too, before walking out of the closet. “Now hurry up and put some clothes on. While the view is nice and all, standing in here with my naked best friend is not doing it for me.”
“I’m wearing boxers!” I called to his retreating back.
“Yeah, yeah,” was his reply as he waved and then closed the door. At least he was nice enough to turn on the light before shutting me in the closet.
I felt like there was some sort of symbolism there, but it went over my head as I rushed to get dressed before rocketing out of the closet.