12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Jordan
All day, I both ignored my phone, and watched it intently.
The little red dot screaming at me from a distance, like a beacon to all the answers swirling in my mind and making my chest ache.
What if I’m not straight?
My stomach flips.
Not sure if my current state is considered alone enough with Mac’s head on my shoulder, his couch threatening to claim us both all over again after a long ass day, but I don’t have it in me to wait any longer.
His soft snores tell me he’s as asleep as he has been since the movie started and with gentle movements, I lay us back once again. Just like that night that led to him clinging to me in his sleep.
Maybe it’s really been me that’s been fucking with him.
I’m not on my a-game. I’ve been distracted. So focused on what’s keeping Mac deep in the dumps of what I think is depression, that I never thought it could have been my fault.
No, that doesn’t seem right.
Right?
Mac has his own shit going on, but if I could get my head on straight, I could help better understand his.
I lift my phone, the blank screen reflecting back at me like a barb to my already thumping heart.
Because inside the rectangle of my case is us .
Mac and me.
His head resting on my chest and my nose resting in his hair.
It’s dark, and his bandana is missing, but I can still make out the soft lines of his sleeping face lit up by the glow of the TV.
We look like more than just best friends.
Don’t we?
I silently clear my throat and unlock the phone.
Is that how we always look?
The little red bubble on my messages calls for me to press the icon and pull up the article in Peach’s text thread.
Demi—
My heart thumps wildly and I flick my eyes away from the screen to draw in a deep breath.
Could I really not be straight after all this time?
I’ve been with women. My entire life I’ve been drawn to them. In relationships. Sleeping together. So why now?
Mac stirs against me, his arm flopping over my ribs, and even more panic floods my system at the idea that I’ve been caught.
I swipe away the article on my screen and lock the phone.
This is insane. Confusing.
Distracting.
I know who I am and what I like and there’s nothing wrong with guys platonically touching. There’s nothing different about seeking comfort from those that know you.
We’re best friends for fucks’ sake.
That’s all this is.
I’m doing a job and being a best friend.
Mac’s doing okay, and that’s all that matters.
My sexuality has no place here.