Chapter 14
Marty
“Come on, we got this,” Lance says.
“Bi powers activate!” Ash follows, spinning the cursor on his controller.
“If that existed,” Colin adds, “we would have cleared this game already.”
Ash and Colin are stretched out across the bed. Since they can’t keep apart from each other, they’re like a four-armed monster, with Colin spooning Ash as they play.
After I finished up at Activate Kindness, I joined the crew for video games in Ash’s room. Angie’s here too. Normally, that would be enough to put me in a good mood, but today it’s not setting me at ease. Neither is petting Frat Cat.
I check my phone for what must be the dozenth time since I last messaged Ryan.
There’s only my DM: What time do you think you’ll be back here?
That was three hours ago.
I remind myself he’s with his parents, but that doesn’t take the edge off, especially given the way we were sparring via Insta earlier.
I’d say I’m worried I might’ve pissed him off, but considering how we’ve been at each other’s throats in the past and how he still wound up kissing me, that can’t be it.
No, but there’s another worry, much worse.
It was one thing to mess around last night.
And then joke about it this morning. Ryan’s good at showing everyone this chill, easygoing side, but he’s got feelings, same as the rest of us, even if sometimes I forget that.
He has worries and fears. What if, now that he’s had time to process, he’s regretting what we did?
Maybe he realized there could be consequences for discovering this queer part of himself.
He’s a popular jock who’ll likely go pro.
Sure, the world’s made a lot of progress, but it’s still a big deal.
I also don’t know his parents. What if seeing them has brought up all sorts of issues—
“Everything okay?” Angie asks, yanking me from my ruminations.
She sits on the edge of the love seat Lance and I are playing from.
“Huh?”
“You seem anxious, even for you,” she teases, and I force a smile.
She would notice as much in any of the other guys, but it’s one of the things I enjoy about her. She’s thoughtful.
Kind.
Caring.
Pretty much the opposite of a dick like Ryan, who can’t even be bothered to reply to my text about tonight’s tango lesson. Don’t know why he can’t do the bare minimum when he knows he’s gonna have to deal with me sooner or later.
“Nothing. I think I need to head to bed. It’s been a long day, and I have a test tomorrow.”
Frat Cat meows, either demanding more scritches or saying liar. Maybe a little of both. I wait for a good stopping point in the game, then say my goodbyes to the crew and Frat Cat, knowing full well I won’t magically be able to get to sleep.
When I reach my room, I hear music on the other side of the door.
Not blaring, but loud enough to pinch at my nerves before I hurry in.
The heavy metal assaults my ears, agitating me even more than seeing Ryan standing at the mirror in the bathroom, a towel around his waist, his hair messy since I guess he just took a shower.
Now I’m really pissed.
I head over to the desk and turn off the music, which doesn’t elicit any response from him. Is this some fucked-up silent treatment?
“Thanks for replying to my last message, by the way,” I say, not attempting to disguise my irritation.
“No problem.” He applies lotion to his face, his words the only assurance that he heard me or is even willing to acknowledge my existence.
I rest my hip against the doorframe, folding my arms. It’s like I’m posing in the mirror in the perfect frustrated stance. “I was being facetious because a reply would have been nice.”
He still won’t look at me. Maybe I was right about his visit with his parents.
“Sorry, man,” is all he says.
This is not the Ryan Lorde I’m used to. Where’s the sarcasm? Where’s the assholery? Where the hell is my frathole?
“I’m tired,” he adds, wiping his hands on his towel. “I don’t think I’m up for any dance lessons tonight. Probably just gonna pass out.”
He tosses the towel off, granting me a full view of the moon and his North Star before approaching me. I stay in his way, but when he still won’t look at me, I finally give him space, and he breezes into the room and rolls onto his air mattress.
Despite my annoyance with his behavior, I have to believe I was right. Maybe what we did has caught up with him, and he can’t play it cool while he’s struggling.
“Hey,” I say, forcing myself to say the word in as calm a manner as I can manage. “Will you talk to me?”
He closes his eyes as though he’s got a migraine. “Something on your mind?”
“Ryan, you don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?” he asks, opening his eyes and wincing.
“Pretend nothing happened last night. Or be weird about this.”
“I’m not being weird about anything.”
I glare at him. “It’s pretty clear something’s happened between this morning and now.
You didn’t reply to my text. And now you’re practically giving me the silent treatment.
” I take a breath. “This is a lot. And you like to pretend nothing fazes you. Like you don’t give a shit about anything, but it’s okay to not be okay with everything you’re going through right now. ”
He sits up, his eyebrow quirked. “And what, exactly, am I going through right now?”
I want to meet him at his level, so I get down on my knees.
“Whatever we’re trying to figure out, we can help each other.
Don’t shut me out. We don’t have to do anything else.
That can be the end of it, and I’ll be fine…
” Even as I say the words, they’re hollow because part of what’s bothering me so much is not having those lips again; life feels so much worse now that I know how good it can be with his face mashed up against mine.
“…but I’m dealing with the same stuff, Ryan. You’re not alone.”
He huffs. “You know, you can be a lot less of a prick than you act like most of the time.”
“I wish I could say the same about you,” I tease.
His lips curl into his dimples, so at least that cheered him up.
“So let me get this straight,” he says. “You think I’m acting this way because I regret what we did last night and now I’m questioning my sexuality and wanting to pretend it never happened?”
“Oh, look. You’re also not as dumb as you act most of the time.”
Even though I’m joking, I’m tense too because that is my fear.
His gaze settles on my lips, and he comes at me quickly. It’s the sort of move that, had it happened before last night, I might’ve thought he was gonna punch me, but his lips crash against mine, and it’s like my whole body releases all the tension he created by avoiding me.
He hooks an arm around me and tugs me close to his body.
I can feel the heat he’s still giving off from his shower, his oatmeal-scented soap tingling in my nose as his tongue sweeps across mine.
He doesn’t hold back, he’s not hesitant, and that tongue sure as hell doesn’t seem confused about what it’s doing.
Meanwhile, I’m back to being confused as fuck.
He guides me onto my back, our lips parting briefly as he positions his knees on either side of my waist. He rocks his hips, his crotch pushing against the fresh boner he’s got worked up. My breath hitches, and he finally pulls away, giving me a chance to collect my thoughts.
He’s wearing this cocky smile, the sort that would normally irritate the hell out of me. “You know,” he says, “now that I’ve had this mouth, you look a lot cuter when you’re annoyed with me.”
Heat flares in my chest, and my cock assures me I’m not bothered by what he said, but aroused as fuck. Hell, it’s hard to even remember why I was frustrated with him to begin with, but as it comes back to me, I have to say, “So you’re definitely not weird about what we did.”
“I’m weird all right.” He leans down and licks up my lips. It should seem strange, but it’s fire.
“You’re not acting like yourself, though.”
His playful expression softens, his gaze wandering. “Got some bad news today. News I can’t even process, it’s fucking with my head so much.”
I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him look like this before. Ryan’s range goes from laughing, give-no-shits to teasing to all-out ready to kick someone’s ass, which I’ve only seen a few times at parties when guys have made the dumbass decision to try and step up to him.
“Did something happen at your parents’?” I press since that’s the only thing that’s changed since the last time we chatted.
He nods. “I didn’t stay long. They dumped news on me, and I had to get out, get my head on straight. Well, maybe not straight.” I can tell he’s trying to be his usual playful self, but it falls flat. His lips twist into a frown. “Wasn’t what I was expecting today.”
“I can tell you’re trying to be evasive, and I know we’re not the best of friends or anything, but if you did want to talk about anything, believe it or not, I can be a good listener.”
He presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, studying my expression.
“I’m good for things other than my mouth,” I add to lighten the mood.
He cracks a smile.
Success.
“I honestly don’t know that that’s true,” he jibes.
“Frathole.”
Even with a smile playing across his lips, I can still see the pain lingering in his blue eyes.
“So as soon as I got home, my parents sat me down and told me they were getting a…”
He hesitates, but I already know even before the word divorce slips past his lips.
Fuck. That explains his sullen mood.
“Now who’s the frathole for coming in after that and giving me hell?
” Despite his attempt at another joke, his eyes water.
“I probably shouldn’t have even told you that much.
It’s been stuck in my brain since they told me.
I went to the park for a while after the talk, and my phone died because I forgot to charge it last night, which is why I never responded to you. ”
“Oh…”
“It’s been a day, and I’m just in a funk.”
He stares off. I imagine it’s the look I get when there’s too much going on and I don’t even know where to focus my thoughts.
“I’m very sorry,” I say.
“For being a dick?”
“No. Well, yes, that too, but that’s a shitty thing to have found out.”
“That’s part of it, but also, I really didn’t see it coming.
And I know I’m oblivious as fuck, and especially with how busy I was during the season, trying to keep on top of frat responsibilities and then the fire stuff…
They told me it’s been going on for a year, and I thought we had this perfect family.
Like the kinds that TV shows are about. But suddenly, in an instant, it’s like I haven’t even known what my parents have been dealing with.
So I guess you’re right. I am the frathole. ”
I notice the water in his eyes stirring like he’s about to drop a tear, and he turns away. I rest my hand against his arm. “Hey, hey. It sounds like something they were keeping from you. It wasn’t your job to read their minds.”
“I think it’s over…like really over,” he blurts out. “There’s a part of me that feels like if I’d caught it sooner, maybe… I know it’s stupid, but like I could have done something. Like Parent Trap shit.”
“The movie? You think you could’ve set up some situation to make them fall in love again?”
He cringes. “It’s worse when you say it out loud.”
“I mean, not necessarily. You happen to have a British Ryan around somewhere?”
“Well, his name wouldn’t be Ryan, and I wouldn’t know about him yet.” He sneaks me a playful look, more like the Ryan I’m used to.
“That really sucks, though. I’m sorry. And sorry for assuming your mood was about all this stuff.”
“What stuff is that?” he says, his brows popping up as he feigns ignorance.
“You know what stuff.”
“Stuff is a vague word.” He’s really playing it up, overdramatically shifting his expression about. “You could mean anything.”
“Definitely referring to the fact that you were probing my mouth last night with your tongue.”
“Oh, the we-might-not-be-as-straight-as-we-thought thing?” he asks, his cocky grin returning.
“Yeah, sure.”
He shrugs. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised I can turn a guy. Just got the talent.”
I have to keep from rolling my eyes, since I’m sure that would give him exactly what he wants. “Technically, that means I turned you too, so do I have the talent?”
“Who says I’m turned? I’m totally straight.” That charming smile suggests he knows damn well that’s not true. “I told you I was just trying to help you out with getting girls. And I assessed your kiss. Saw there were no major issues there.”
“No major issues? So there are minor ones you wanted to discuss?”
He tilts his head, his lips twisting downward. “Eh…I think it’s something we should work on together.” He leans closer, the tip of his nose brushing up against mine, his minty breath filling my mouth.
For some reason, that smart-ass attitude that normally grates has me worked up. “Well, when is our next session gonna be since you’re about to go to sleep?”
He licks up my lips before kissing me again, his tongue sweeping across mine, and I understand now why I was so pissed with him. Because when he didn’t reply, I was afraid I wasn’t gonna get this again.
“I think I can take a little time for another study session,” he whispers into my mouth. “You need all the practice you can get.”
Our lips smack with wet kisses.
His hand travels to my crotch, pressing along my cock until it’s peeking out of my pants.
“There it is,” he says.
As he applies more pressure, I roll my head back, breaking our kiss. His breath slams against my cheek as he continues stroking me.
“Are you sure you haven’t been with a guy before?” I ask because I don’t get how he knows exactly how to get me worked up.
“Not yet,” he says. “But we could change that. Do you want to change that?”
He offers another generous stroke, and my body vibrates, clearly eager to explore more. There’s a cluster of confusion spinning in the back of my mind—all the valid reasons why we shouldn’t do this.
This isn’t like me at all.
I’m not impulsive or sex-crazed. But especially with how on edge he had me over not responding to my texts, and now to have him working my cock, it’s more than I can bear.
On top of that, I like that he’s in a better mood now, and maybe this could offer him a distraction from the shit news he found out today.
“What do you want to try?” I ask.
“Wouldn’t mind getting this fat thing out and playing with it some.”
The fuck?