Rhys
THE TRIP FLEW by, a week of fun and relaxation and family bonding. I had to admit, even though I hadn’t been looking forward to it, it had taken my mind off Hailey and the fact that I was jobless and technically homeless.
Now instead of stewing over my shitty life and ruined marriage, I could instead ruminate on why I couldn’t stop thinking about my dweeby little brother’s dork of a best friend.
Former dork of a best friend. It was habit for my brain to apply those kinds of labels to both of them, but at least in Kendall’s case, they didn’t really apply anymore.
And I supposed Benjamin was doing well for himself too, what with the whole successful marriage and hot, pregnant wife.
After that first morning in the kitchen, when I’d gotten the most confusing boner of my entire life, so suddenly and desperately turned on I’d practically needed to start grinding my dick on the wooden panel of the kitchen island, I was pretty sure we’d both gone out of our way to avoid being alone together.
Which was good, because if it happened again then I’d probably need to start thinking about it, and whether it meant anything.
And of course it didn’t mean anything. Kendall was cute, for a guy.
That was more of a statement of fact than a reflection on my actual feelings.
But it hadn’t really had anything to do with him.
No one but me had touched my dick in three years.
Random boners were to be expected. No need for any life-altering realizations or deep introspection.
Even if I had any suspicions about myself, which I didn’t, I had enough shit going on in my life without some random late-onset bisexuality diagnosis.
I just needed to have sex. That was a very easy and simple fix.
Much easier and simpler now that I wasn’t legally chained to a woman who was completely disinterested in having sex with me.
And since I’d very recently started getting texts from a girl I’d dated briefly in high school saying she’d heard I was back in town and asking if I wanted to meet and catch up, I wouldn’t even have to put any significant effort into that.
The Cherryvale gossip economy was thriving, as always.
Brie had been a cheerleader all the years I’d played football, and we’d been in the same group of friends, so dating had seemed like the obvious route at the time.
We’d fooled around the backseat of my first car, a secondhand Honda Civic, more times than I could count and the obvious, blatant tone of her texts suggested she would be very open to repeating those portions of our relationship, at least. Preferably in a bed this time.
I tried not to think about how we’d broken up because of the way she always took my humor way too seriously and ended up hurting her own feelings by overthinking every careless joke.
That wasn’t important right now. If I’d gotten to the point where a conversation with Kendall Austin had me pressing up into my zipper, things had clearly gotten very dire. He was a guy.
Even if he had prettier, smoother skin than most women I knew, with all that glossy hair pulled back into that adorable ponytail. It wasn’t my fault he was short and had small hands and a tiny waist and pink, pouty lips, which all happened to be traits I found very, very attractive. In women.
And he had a tongue piercing. And a bellybutton piercing, which I’d noticed when we were all swimming in the river and he’d only been wearing this stupidly small pair of baby blue trunks that barely went to his mid thigh.
No one else had seemed bothered by it, so of course I hadn’t said anything either.
It also wasn’t my fault that he’d forced me to imagine him on his knees in some pornographic fantasy metaphor for gratitude and loyalty.
Did he really think being with someone like me would be that great?
I couldn’t exactly fathom what it was he imagined would be so wonderful.
Obviously I wasn’t winning any awards in the Husband Olympics.
Then again, he’d said if he could find someone like me, not actually me.
Maybe he meant someone that looked like me but without all the damage and hangups.
And with a job. Or basically any prospects that would allow a meaningful contribution to a relationship.
I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about this.
Another text from Brie came through, and I glanced down at it.
She’d sent another winking emoji, after letting me know she was going to sleep.
That was the third message in a row she’d ended with that emoji.
I’d been out of the game for a bit, but I wasn’t a complete moron.
And she wasn’t being remotely subtle. I told her to have sweet dreams, and that I was looking forward to seeing her this weekend, along with a couple of our old friends from high school, at the bar she’d invited me to.
It was getting late and I needed to sleep. It was the last night of the trip. In the morning, we’d all get up and haul our luggage back into the SUV. I wasn’t remotely tired, and my mind was racing, but maybe if I forced myself to lay in bed I’d fall asleep out of habit.
Standing up from the cushy armchair in my bedroom, I headed over to close my bedroom door. When Kendall appeared in the frame, both of us let out startled sounds of shock.
“Shit,” I panted, bringing my palm up to my chest to press against my racing heart.
“Sorry,” he squeaked out, looking embarrassed and miserable. “I wasn’t, like… Doing anything weird. I was just walking by. I, um… I can’t sleep.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Me neither.”
I hadn’t thought he’d been doing anything weird.
He’d obviously just been in bed. His silky hair was loose, tumbling down to his shoulders in messy waves of pinky gold.
He was in what I guessed was his version of pajamas.
Tiny cotton shorts with gummy bears printed all over them, and a tight, vintage ringer tee.
The shirt was white, but the sleeve hems and the ribbing on the collar were yellow.
He looked like a slutty camp counselor that all the kids would have a crush on, but would inevitably die first in a horror movie.
It was the first time we’d spoken directly to each other, without the buffer of my family hovering around since the kitchen incident. I cleared my throat awkwardly, and tried not to notice how there was a tiny strip of pale skin where the hem of his shirt and shorts didn’t quite meet each other.
“So how’d the owl room treat you?” He wondered, probably because he felt as awkward as I did and didn’t know what to say or how to politely leave. He wasn’t quite meeting my eyes, either.
“Good,” I answered quickly. “It’s, uh, not the owl room’s fault I can’t sleep.”
“That’s good,” he said, giving a tiny nod as he kept his eyes locked on the door jamb. “I know the view of the river is, like, really nice in here.”
“Oh, yeah,” I agreed, pulling my door open all the way so he could glance around inside. I instinctively took a step back, which I realized too late looked like I was inviting him in. “I love it.”
There was a huge window that took up practically the whole wall on that side. The reflection of the bright moon on the water was beautiful, the dark trees like giant sentinels guarding it.
“I picked the duck room because I was afraid of something watching me through that window,” he admitted sheepishly, but took a step closer as he peered out through it. “Like, I don’t know, a zombie or a werewolf.”
“And you said you wouldn’t need me to fight off that serial killer,” I reminded him, shaking my head wryly, but grinning when he chuckled.
“Is that a secret fantasy of yours or something?” he asked, finally shifting his gaze over to me. Most of the awkward tension in his eyes and body language was already starting to fade away, which I was glad for.
He’d always been easy for me to talk to, and things had never really been weird between us. Not counting the conversation we’d had about my ex. I wasn’t exactly sure if he’d been the one to make that weird, or if I’d been the culprit.
I shouldn’t have encouraged him to keep talking about her, but…
It felt so fucking good for someone to be so vehemently on my side.
It was like he’d never considered for a single moment that maybe she’d cheated because I just wasn’t good enough.
Not good enough at being a financial provider, not good enough at appearing intelligent and sophisticated and well-spoken at the snooty parties she’d always insisted on dragging me to so she could network about her event planning services. Not good enough at sex. Obviously.
Fuck. I was pathetic. I was more than aware of that fact about myself, but for whatever reason the idea that he’d figure it out too and lose faith in me was…
Daunting. And that was even more pathetic.
That my current state of self esteem was so fragile it was being held up by a twink in fluffy pink socks that I’d known since before he could do long division.
“Doesn’t every guy fantasize about protecting his family by fighting off an intruder?” I mused, and he snorted, shaking his head so the moonlight from the window shimmered over his hair. My fingertips tingled with a brief itch to touch it. It looked so soft and shiny.
“Male power fantasy,” he said, before wrinkling his nose to show his disdain for the concept.
“Oh,” I responded flatly, smirking as I tilted my head. “And I’m sure your fantasies are just so cultured and worldly, Sparkles.”
He laughed, and I realized that I’d been subconsciously trying to coax it out again. Like him, it was soft and cute and kind of musical.
“You don’t want to know.”
My immediate instinct was to agree with him. Of course I didn’t want to know what my little brother’s gay best friend tended to fantasize about. Why would I want to know that? I’d have to be in a really weird state of mind to have even the slightest desire for that kind of knowledge.