Riding the Wrong Cowboy #2
I look at him, and my face goes hot. "And I want you to know that's not…
I mean, you're genuinely attractive. Like, objectively, extremely attractive.
And you made me feel safe that night with the guy at the bar, and I thought maybe that combination would be enough to… Does that make it sound any better?"
Ryker looks at me for a long moment. "A little," he says. "Not much."
"Yeah." I wince. "Fair.” Ryker nods slowly. He doesn't look angry, just sad, in a way that makes me swallow hard. "Can I ask you something?" I say.
"Shoot."
"If you don't actually want people to treat you like you're…" I search for the word, hands moving in small, useless circles. "Ummm. Like you’re… easy." Ryker's jaw tightens. He's quiet for long enough that I think maybe I've crossed a line, and I'm about to apologize when he speaks.
"Because no one wants me for more than that.
" His voice is flat. Matter-of-fact. "I'm the big scary bouncer.
The easy lay. The guy you take home when you want to get wrecked and never think about again.
" He shrugs, but there's nothing casual about it.
"At least if I lean into it, I get some connection. Even if it's not real."
The words land like a punch to the stomach. Because that's exactly what I did tonight. I came here wanting a connection that wasn't real, with someone I was never actually going to choose. I am the guy he's describing.
"Ryker, that's really sad." My voice comes out quieter than I intended. "I'm sorry. For tonight, I mean. I'm part of that."
"It is what it is."
"It shouldn't be.” He looks at me then, eyebrows lifting slightly, like he didn't expect me to care. The silence sits between us for a second, easy and warm, Princess Tank snoring softly across our laps.
"You're a sweet kid, Max."
"I'm not a kid. I'm twenty-one."
"You're a baby." But he's almost smiling now, and it changes his whole face. "A baby who's completely gone for his best friend and too dumb to realize it."
"I'm not—"
"When you were kissing me," he says slowly, "who were you wishing I was?"
My brain short-circuits.
The answer is right there, and I know it, and I don't want it.
Because if I'm in love with Leo, then Leo pushed me away.
Leo said we have to be friends, then spent a week looking straight through me, talking about skirt fabric and socks like I was someone he had to manage instead of someone he trusts.
Which means he doesn't feel the same way.
Which means I've been walking around with this, this thing, for who knows how long, and my best friend doesn't want me like that, and I could lose everything—
I try to look away from it. Find something else. Anything else. There's nothing else; there’s only Leo making me laugh. Leo's hands, gentle and sure. Leo looking at me like I was precious. Leo, Leo, Leo…
"Oh." It comes out barely above a whisper. "Oh boy."
"There it is."
"I have feelings for Leo." The words crack open a file in my brain. "I have feelings for my best friend. Holy motherboard, I'm in love with Leo." Saying it out loud makes it real. Undeniable. Terrifying.
"Yeah." Ryker's voice is gentle. "You are."
"What do I do?"
"Well, for starters, you stop going home with random bouncers."
I choke out a laugh that's half sob. "Yeah. Yeah, probably good advice."
"And then you talk to him. Tell him how you feel."
"What if he doesn't feel the same way?"
Ryker raises an eyebrow. "Does he?"
I think about Leo. The way he looked at me after we had s-e-x…
not like it was casual, not like it was just two friends doing a thing.
Like it meant something. Like I meant something.
The way he's been so careful around me all week, every word measured, every smile filtered, like he's building a wall one brick at a time and hoping I won't notice.
The way he said we can't let sex confuse things, not angry, not relieved.
Like he was trying to convince himself as much as I was.
Leo doesn't do anything without a reason. He calculates. He thinks three steps ahead. And he's been protecting himself from something all week.
From me. The thought lands somewhere between terrifying and the most hopeful thing I've ever considered.
"I don't know," I admit. "Maybe?"
"Then you find out." He says it like it's simple. Maybe it is. "But not tonight. Tonight, we sober you up, and you go home and sleep on it."
"Okay." I take a shaky breath. "Okay." Princess Tank licks my hand, like she's agreeing.
Ryker gets up and makes us hot chai tea.
Actual chai, from scratch, with milk and honey and spices that make the whole apartment smell incredible.
He hands me a mug, and I wrap my hands around it, letting the warmth seep into my fingers.
"This is really good," I say, surprised.
"I'm a man of many talents." We sit on the couch, Princess Tank sprawled across both our laps now, and drink our chai in comfortable silence. The panic has faded, replaced by a calmness I haven't felt before.
I have feelings for Leo. I'm in love with my best friend.
It should be scarier than it is. But sitting here, in Ryker's cozy apartment with his three-legged dog and his homemade chai, it feels… right. Like a fact I've always known but finally let myself see.
Something catches my eye, a flash of color tucked behind the couch. I crane my neck trying to see, and Ryker follows my gaze and lunges at the same moment I reach over the arm of the couch.
"Max, don't—" I squirm away from his grabbing hands.
He makes a noise of frustration and resorts to tickling me, and then it's chaos, me laughing and trying to escape, Princess Tank barking excitedly, Ryker making increasingly undignified grabbing motions, until I get my fingers around the thing and yank it free.