Chapter 13 James
James
We were an hour and a half into the movie and I still had no idea what it was about.
There had been nothing but explosions, gunfire, and the main character was clearly the reason all his friends were dead.
In short, it was a movie I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about.
But it was the one Trevor wanted to see, and I was trying to be accommodating.
Trevor’s hand found mine in the darkness, his fingers threading through mine with an ease that should have felt comfortable.
And it did feel comfortable. That was part of the problem.
His palm was warm, his grip steady, and when he glanced over at me with that golden retriever smile, I felt guilty for being so checked out.
I squeezed his hand back and tried to focus on the screen. Another explosion. More shouting. I was pretty sure the main character’s love interest had just been killed, but I couldn’t remember her name or why I was supposed to care.
Because I wasn’t thinking about the movie. I wasn’t even really thinking about Trevor, despite his thumb now tracing lazy circles on the back of my hand.
I was thinking about Kent.
About the way he’d defended me at dinner. About the laptop repair and that stupid sticky note that had made my chest feel tight. About the hug… Jesus, that hug… and how for those few seconds, I’d felt completely safe in a way I hadn’t felt in years. How I felt like I belonged.
Trevor shifted beside me, reaching for the popcorn bucket balanced on the armrest between us. He offered it to me, and I took a handful I didn’t want, chewing mechanically while the movie droned on.
This wasn’t fair to him. Trevor was a good guy. He was kind and thoughtful and clearly into me. We had chemistry in bed, and now I was discovering he had an actual personality to go with those muscles. By all accounts, this should be working.
But it wasn’t.
Because every time he touched me, I found myself comparing it to that brief moment when Kent’s arms had been around me. Every time he smiled, I wondered what it would feel like if my stepbrother smiled at me like that. Really smiled, not the sardonic half-smirk he usually gave me.
I was so fucked.
On screen, something exploded in a ball of fire. The audience around us jumped. Trevor’s hand tightened on mine. I felt nothing.
“You okay?” Trevor whispered, leaning close enough that his breath tickled my ear.
“Yeah, just... this movie is intense.”
It wasn’t. Or maybe it was. I genuinely had no idea.
He grinned and turned back to the screen, satisfied with my answer. I stared at our joined hands and felt like the world’s biggest asshole.
The thing was, I’d spent so many years hating Kent. It had been easy, comfortable even. He’d given me plenty of reasons. There were the homophobic comments, the casual cruelty, and the way he’d made my life hell when I was already struggling to figure out who I was. Hating him had been simple.
But this? Whatever this was? This was complicated and messy and completely terrifying.
Because at some point over the past week, something had shifted. Maybe it started when he showed up on my doorstep looking broken. Maybe it was when he stood up to his father for me. Or maybe it was earlier than that, buried under years of resentment, waiting for the right moment to surface.
The credits started rolling. I hadn’t even noticed the movie ending.
“That was awesome,” Trevor said, standing and stretching. “What’d you think?”
“It was... yeah. Awesome.” I had no idea if that was the right answer, but Trevor seemed pleased.
We filed out with the rest of the crowd, still holding hands as we made our way to his car. The night air was cool against my face, a welcome relief from the stuffiness of the theater.
“You want to hang out at my apartment when we get back?” Trevor asked as we reached his car. His expression was hopeful, and I knew exactly what he was asking.
A week ago, I would have said yes without hesitation. Hell, even a few days ago, I probably would have. But now, standing here with this genuinely nice guy who deserved better than someone who couldn’t stop thinking about his stepbrother, I couldn’t do it.
“Actually,” I said slowly, pulling my hand free. “I think I need to head home.”
Trevor’s face fell slightly. “Oh. Okay. Everything alright?”
“Yeah, I just... I have an early morning tomorrow.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
“Sure, no problem.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let me drive you back then.”
The drive to my apartment was quiet, filled with a tension that hadn’t been there before. Trevor tried to make conversation. He talked about the movie, asked about my week, but my responses were distracted, one-word answers that eventually petered out into silence.
When we got back to the apartment, he turned off the car, but neither of us got out.
“James,” he said carefully. “Did I do something wrong?”
“What? No. God, no.” I turned to face him, guilt churning in my stomach. “You’ve been great. Really.”
“But?”
I hesitated, trying to find the right words. “But I think I need to figure some things out. Personal stuff. It’s not fair to you if I’m not all here.”
Trevor was quiet for a moment, his hands still on the steering wheel. “Is this about your stepbrother?”
My heart stopped. “What?”
“Kent. You’ve mentioned him a few times, and you get this.
.. I don’t know, this look on your face when you talk about him.
” He finally turned to look at me, and there was concern in his eyes that made me want to sink through the floor.
“He’s not hurting you or anything, is he?
I know you said you didn’t really get along. ”
“No,” I said quickly. “Honestly. It’s nothing like that.”
Trevor studied my face for a long moment, and I could see him putting pieces together. “But there is something.”
I wanted to deny it. The words were right there, ready to dismiss his concern and pretend everything was fine. But sitting there in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, looking at this kind man who deserved honesty, I couldn’t do it.
“Yeah,” I admitted quietly. “There’s something. I don’t really understand it myself yet, but I need to figure it out before I can... before we can...” I gestured helplessly between us.
Trevor nodded slowly, his jaw working. “I appreciate you being honest with me.” He looked away, out the windshield at nothing in particular. “For what it’s worth, I really like you, James. And if you figure your stuff out and want to give this another shot, I’d be open to it.”
“Trevor—”
“But I’m not going to wait around while you work through whatever’s going on with your stepbrother.” His voice was gentle but firm. There was no judgement either. “I’ve been the backup plan before. I’m not doing that again.”
The words stung, even though they were completely fair. “I get it. And I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just... take care of yourself, okay?” He reached over and squeezed my shoulder, a final gesture of affection that made my throat tight.
We both got out, walking to the building side by side. Inside the door, we parted ways with a small nod. The guilt sat heavy in my chest, but underneath it was something else. Relief, maybe. Or clarity.
I couldn’t keep pretending this thing with Kent didn’t exist.
The stairs up to my apartment felt endless. My mind raced with what I was going to say, how I was going to explain any of this. Hey Kent, so I think I might have feelings for you. Remember how you used to call me slurs in high school? Good times.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside, expecting to find Kent on the couch watching TV like usual. But the living room was empty, the television dark. A light was on in the kitchen, though, and I could hear the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing.
“Kent?” I called out, setting my keys on the counter.
“Hey.” He appeared in the kitchen doorway, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt that had seen better days. His hair was damp, like he’d just gotten out of the shower. “How was the movie?” He glanced around me, his brows furrowed. “Trevor with you?”
“It was...” I trailed off, unsure how to answer. “Look, we need to talk.”
His expression shifted immediately, concern replacing the casual friendliness. “That sounds ominous. Everything okay?”
“I don’t know.” I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly exhausted. “I broke things off with Trevor. Sort of. It’s complicated.”
Kent’s eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. “What? Why? I thought things were going well.”
“They were. He’s great. That’s not the problem.” I moved past him into the kitchen, needing something to do with my hands. I grabbed a glass and filled it with water, taking a long drink while Kent watched me with that unreadable expression he got sometimes.
“So, what is the problem?” he asked carefully.
I set the glass down, gripping the edge of the counter. This was it. The moment where I either said something or spent the rest of my life wondering what if.
“You,” I said, turning to face him. “You’re the problem.”
Kent went very still. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I can’t stop thinking about you.
About the dinner with our parents, about you fixing my laptop, about that stupid hug.
” The words came out in a rush, like a dam breaking.
“And I don’t know what to do with any of it because you’re my stepbrother and you spent years making my life hell, and this is insane, right? This is completely insane.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Kent just stared at me, his face pale, and I couldn’t tell if he was about to punch me or run out the door or—
“It’s not insane,” he said quietly.
I blinked. “What?”
“It’s not insane.” He took a step closer, and I could see his hands trembling slightly at his sides. “I’ve been thinking about you too. About us. And I know I don’t have any right to feel this way after everything I did to you, but I can’t help it.”
My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. “Kent—”
“I called a helpline the other day,” he continued, the words tumbling out like he needed to say them before he lost his nerve.
“An LGBTQ helpline. Because I needed to talk to someone about what I was feeling and I didn’t know who else to ask.
And they told me it was okay. That being confused was okay. That having these feelings was okay.”
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Kent had called a helpline. About me. About us.
“What about Brittany?” I asked, trying to put the pieces together. “What about all those girlfriends you ran through in college?”
He just shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is that whatever I felt with them is nothing compared to how I feel around you.”
“How you feel…”
“Look, I don’t expect you to forgive me for how I treated you,” he said, his voice rough.
“And I don’t expect anything from you at all.
But you said we needed to talk, so I’m talking.
I’m telling you that when you hugged me, it was the best I’ve felt in months.
Maybe years. And I know that’s fucked up and complicated and probably wrong, but it’s the truth. ”
I crossed the distance between us before I could second-guess myself, closing the space until we were inches apart. Close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths.
“Say something,” Kent whispered. “Please.”
Instead of speaking, I reached up and cupped his face with one hand, my thumb brushing along his jawline. His skin was warm, slightly rough with stubble. He leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed for just a second before opening again to meet mine.
“I hated you for so long,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I know.”
“But I don’t hate you anymore.” My other hand found his waist, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his t-shirt. “And that terrifies me.”
“Me too,” he admitted, his own hands coming up to rest on my hips. The touch was tentative, like he was afraid I might disappear if he held on too tight.
We stood there, suspended in that moment, both of us too scared to move forward and too far gone to step back.
I could feel the heat radiating off his body, could count every breath he took.
My mind was screaming that this was wrong, that we shouldn’t be doing this.
But my body didn’t care about should or shouldn’t.
It only cared about the magnetic pull drawing me closer to him.
“James,” he breathed, and the way he said my name, soft and desperate and full of longing, broke something inside me.
I closed the remaining distance between us and pressed my lips to his.