Chapter 15 #2
“We?” I scoff, arching a quizzical brow. “My camp’s already set up!”
“You don’t expect my amazingly beautiful wife to do hard manual labor with those lovely hands, do you?” Marcus smirks, giving Tiff a little wink as he drags me away. “Let’s prove to them that we’re more than just sexy playthings, shall we?”
Tiff laughs, and Luke snickers behind her as I groan in misery, but I don’t argue when Marcus hauls me toward his campsite.
While we unpack and set up his gear, they sit around the unlit fire pit back at our camp, catching up.
I feel like I’ve drawn the short stick having to do all this shit twice.
It doesn’t help that my brain is currently distracted.
I can’t stop glancing over at Luke, my mind replaying what happened between us earlier, wondering if there’s any significance to it.
Did I imagine that look he gave me? Or was he feeling the same thing I was?
I can’t have possibly made it up… Right?
There was a genuine spark there. I’m almost positive.
I want to pull him aside and demand answers, but what happens if I’m wrong? What if I was seeing things, caught up in the moment, and he doesn’t feel the same way? He’ll get pissed, everything will change between us, and I won’t know how to handle it.
God damn it, why does this have to be so complicated?
At one point, Marcus moves in front of me and asks, “Are you good?” He follows my line of sight back toward Luke and Tiff across the way. “You seem a little out of it.”
I frown, shaking my head dismissively, and snap my attention back to my task. “I’m just a little groggy from that nap, is all.”
Marcus eyes me with suspicion, and I can’t even begin to imagine what he sees before he shrugs. “Okay.”
He walks away to grab more supplies from his truck, and I sigh, watching him go.
This would be so much easier if I came clean to him about where I’m at right now.
Who knows? Maybe he could knock some sense into me, tell me if he thinks I’m just imagining things, or if there’s any chance in hell that Luke would be interested in me.
He’s always been good at telling me shit like that when I get in my own head, and I could desperately use his advice about how to proceed.
I don’t understand why I haven’t been able to tell him yet.
I’ve had plenty of opportunities, but it’s like I’ve purposefully avoided them at all costs.
We have another one right now. We’re far enough away that no one else could hear us.
Besides, they’re only two little words. ‘I’m bisexual.
’ How hard could it be to blurt them out and get this over with so I can stop lying to my best friend?
It shouldn’t be any different because I’m interested in a man. I hope.
As he walks by with an armful of supplies, I call out with a sudden burst of courage. “Hey, Marcus?” But as soon as the words leave my mouth, I instantly regret it. My heart’s in my throat, and my face starts burning, my mouth going dry.
“Yeah?” Marcus replies, distracted as he sets everything down on the picnic table.
My whole body shifts into panic mode, every nerve ending on fire.
My hands start shaking, and I worry I might throw up as a wave of nausea rolls over me.
There’s a two-ton weight on my chest, and I can’t breathe.
Oh, god, this was a mistake. I can’t do this.
Why did I ever think I could? Even if I wanted to speak, no words would come out.
I wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction, but it grips me to the point of paralysis.
When I don’t immediately respond, Marcus glances over at me, and I snap my head away, hoping he won’t see the panic written all over my face.
It’ll only make it worse if he acknowledges it.
But he’s expecting an answer from me, and there’s no way in hell I’m telling him the truth.
Not right now, at least. Not when I feel like I might die if I do.
“Do you have any water?” I settle on instead, swallowing hard, trying to clear the sudden lump in my throat. At least the request makes sense with how strained my voice just sounded.
“Um, yeah. Sure.” Marcus frowns.
I can feel his eyes on me as he walks over to a cooler, and when he comes back, he hands me a bottle of water with an arched brow.
I can’t even look him in the eye as I take it and mutter a weak thanks.
He doesn’t say anything about it as he walks back to the picnic table, but I close my eyes and sigh heavily, cursing my cowardice.
I drag a hand over my face before chugging half the water down. Stupid. Why am I such a god damn fucking idiot?
I didn’t have this much difficulty coming out to my mom—arguably the one person I should have been more worried about—but with Marcus, I’m a fucking clam. Where’s the sense in that?
He’s my best friend. I should be able to talk to him without freaking out like this.
Our bond has withstood so much of my bullshit and fucked up mental health problems over the years that adding this on top should be easy.
I highly doubt he’ll think differently about me once he knows the truth.
Or that our friendship will somehow change because of it.
He’s not the kind of person to let something like this come between us, but even knowing all that logically, I’m still petrified.
It’s as if I’m legitimately scared that this will be the final burden that breaks us.
What kind of friend does that make me?