Chapter 3
We make it back to the cabin before dark.
Brody gets a fire going in the pit out front while I dig through the cooler he packed.
Chicken breasts, pre-cooked rice in Tupperware, a bag of almonds, a six-pack of beer, and a tub of protein powder.
This is Brody’s idea of a good meal. We grill the chicken on a rusty rack over the fire, and it’s a little charred, a little dry, but it’s hot food, and we’re starving.
The fire pops and crackles between us, sending sparks up into the trees.
“You didn’t actually think I was gonna kiss you, did you?” Brody says, tearing off a piece of chicken with his teeth. “You looked like I’d pulled a gun on you.”
“No,” I lie, my mouth full of chalky rice. “I was playing along.”
“Can you imagine? Us? That’d be…”
“Weird as fuck,” I finish for him.
“So weird. You’re like my brother, man.” He takes a long swallow of beer. “Not that I have anything against it. You know, guys who are into that. Live and let live, I say. More pussy for me.” He grins. “But us? No way.”
“Yeah,” I say, staring into the fire. “No way.”
An owl hoots in the distance. The firelight catches the side of Brody’s face, the sharp line of his jaw.
I watch the way he holds his beer bottle, his thumb stroking the condensation.
The way the muscles in his forearm flex when he brings it to his lips.
Those full lips that were so close to mine.
The bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.
A trickle of beer slips down the side of his mouth, and he catches it with his tongue.
There’s no way I can still deny it to myself.
I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to feel those lips on mine, wanted to feel the weight of his body pressing me down into the water.
I wanted him to do every single one of the filthy things he said in the truck.
And that’s a problem. A problem of catastrophic proportions.
Because what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?
It’s Brody. My straight-as-an-arrow, pussy-chasing best friend.
The only thing I can do is push it down, bury it deep, and hope it suffocates.
“Tired?” he asks once we’ve finished eating, leaning back on his elbows.
“Yeah, a little,” I say, even though my head is a wasp’s nest.
“Me too. Let’s turn in. Big day of hiking tomorrow. I wanna make the summit by noon.” He stands and stretches, a motion that pulls his shirt tight across his chest, revealing the ridges of his abs. “I’m gonna take a piss. You can head in.”
He disappears into the trees behind the cabin.
I’m left alone with the dying fire and a head full of static.
I kick dirt over the embers and go inside.
The oil lantern on the table is burning, throwing its warm glow across the tiny space.
The bed looks even smaller at night. Just a creaky wooden frame, a thin mattress, and a single blanket.
I brush my teeth with a bottle of water and my finger, then strip down to my boxers.
Undressing is easier now that he isn’t here.
I fold my clothes and place them on one of the chairs, then slide into bed, pressing myself as far against the wall as I can.
I pull the blanket up to my chin and stare at the ceiling, listening to the crickets, the rustle of leaves outside.
If it wasn’t for the knot in my stomach, it would almost be peaceful.
The floorboards creak as Brody comes in. “Already in bed? That was quick.”
“It’s not like there’s much else to do.”
He grabs the water bottle and brushes his teeth the same way I did, then strips down to his boxer briefs.
I keep my eyes fixed on the ceiling, but I can see his shape in my peripheral vision, a towering silhouette backlit by the lantern.
The mattress groans as he gets in, and the whole bed dips toward his side.
“Jesus, Tate,” he grunts. “There’s no room over here. Scoot over.”
“I am scooted over.”
“Well, scoot harder.”
“I’m against the wall, Brody. There’s nowhere to go.”
He rolls onto his side, then his back, then his side again. His elbow catches me in the ribs.
“Ow.”
“Sorry.” He shifts again. His knee bumps my thigh. “Okay, I think if you turn that way and I turn this way…”
“You mean spooning?”
“Not spooning. Just… facing the same direction. It’s the only way we’re not gonna elbow each other in the face all night. Unless you’ve got a better idea.”
“Fine,” I mutter, and turn over, presenting him with my back. The mattress creaks again as he rolls over, and then he’s behind me. Not touching, but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. His breath on the back of my neck.
“See?” he says. “Not so bad.”
I don’t answer. Because inside my boxers, against the soft cotton, my dick is starting to stir again.
Just from the warmth of him. His musky smell.
The idea of him right there, so close. I squeeze my eyes shut and will it away.
Count backward from a hundred. Think about something else.
Spreadsheets. My econ professor’s monotone voice.
Anything but the solid wall of muscle at my back.
It’s not working.
“Tate?” he says, his voice a low rumble.
“What?”
“Hit me with another pickup line.”
“Go to sleep, Brody.”
“No, for real. The squirrel one had potential. You just need to work on your delivery.”
“Dude, I am not doing this right now.”
“Humor me. C’mon.” He pokes my shoulder. “Just one.”
I sigh. Why do I always give in? “Okay. Fine.” I take a breath. “Hey, I think you’re really pretty. I have an incredibly comfortable couch in my dorm room, and I was wondering if you’d want to come over and sit on it. Or would you prefer to sit on me?”
There’s a beat of silence. Then Brody’s whole body shakes with laughter. “Okay, that’s somehow worse than the squirrel one. You’re actively trying to get pepper-sprayed with this one.”
“I told you I’m not good at this.”
“Yeah, no kidding. But you’re getting funnier. That’s a start. It’s just… you’re making it so complicated, Tate. Just say what you mean.”
“And what is that, exactly?”
“That you want her. That she’s making you hard.”
“You make me hard, Brody.”
“What?”
“You make me hard as a rock right now.”
“What the actual…” A pause. “Oh. Okay. I get it. That’s good, Tate. That was actually… you sounded pretty convincing there for a second.”
I can feel my heartbeat in my throat. I didn’t mean to say that. Or maybe I did. Maybe that’s the whole problem. The harder I try to push it down, the more it wants to come out.
“It’s all in the delivery, right?” I say, not knowing where the words are coming from.
“Yeah,” he says, a little breathless. “Right.”
“I want to feel you pressed against me, Brody. All of you. I want you to wrap your big arms around me and hold me so tight I can’t breathe.” Damn. It feels good to say that out loud.
“Tate…”
“How’s that for delivery? Am I doing it right?”
“I…” He swallows. “Yeah, man. You’re nailing it.”
“Then why aren’t you touching me? Why aren’t you grinding that big cock against me?
Like you said in the truck.” The words spill out like water from a cracked pipe.
And the thing is, it’s easy. It’s so fucking easy when it’s the truth.
No fumbling, no freezing, no blank stare at a girl in a bar while my brain scrambles for something to say.
It all comes pouring out. “You could make me scream so loud here, and no one would hear us. You could do whatever you want to me, Brody. Do you realize that? Do you realize how hard you could fuck me right now?”
I’m trembling. I can’t believe what I’m saying. But I can’t stop. It’s like a fever dream. The tiny room, the flickering lantern, the darkness outside, Brody’s warm body behind me. My cock is leaking, a wet spot spreading on my boxers.
“I mean,” Brody says, “you probably wouldn’t say that to a girl. It’s a little specific.”
“I’m just working on my delivery. Practicing being the beast you told me to be.”
“Right. The beast. Well, it’s out of the cage now, Tate. Good work. I almost believe you.”
“Almost?” I say. “You want me to be more convincing?”
“I think we should probably—”
I push back against him. I don’t know why, but I do. Just slightly. Just enough that my ass presses into his crotch. I feel him. All of him. And he’s not soft. He’s far from soft.
He has a full-blown erection.