Chapter 2
Two
Teddy
I should’ve known this would happen. I know his tolerance for bullshit is zero, but I didn’t expect him to straight up punch Asher the first time they meet. It escalated so quickly, I didn’t even have time to process it. Liam was on edge, that was for sure.
He had that smile on his face though, the one that makes him look like a vicious animal. It’s so big, it splits his face in half, flashing those exceptionally sharp canines of his. So, I’m not crazy to think that.
He always gets that way before beating someone’s ass—which has happened more times than I can count.
Even now, he’s standing there chitchatting with Ant like nothing happened. I let out a sigh and head back to the table. “Can you at least give me a cigarette, since you just decided to make my life a whole lot harder.”
I drop my head into my hands, massaging my temples.
“You’re better off without him, Teddy. That dude’s a fucking prick,” he says, indifferent as ever. He doesn’t have any emotions, I swear. I stare at him blankly as he pulls a cigarette out and lights it with the tip of his own cigarette before passing it to me.
This entire afternoon has been shitty. I didn’t really want to bring Asher, but when I told him where I was going, he claimed he wanted to meet my friends. Everything was going well enough—although I could tell Ant and Ben weren’t vibing with him, but they were at least nice.
Then Liam rolls in looking like every wet dream I’ve had since high school. His shirt was off, and all his rich brown, tattoo-covered skin was on full display. His muscular chest glistened with sweat that I wanted to lick .
So, I’ve been trying my hardest to avoid looking at him all together, because when I do, heat rushes to my groin.
I just can’t help it. I can’t even control my body’s reaction to him anymore.
And I couldn’t risk Asher thinking something was going on between him and I; he’s controlling enough as it is.
What I don’t need is someone telling me I can’t hang out with or talk to my best friend anymore.
Even though I’ve been avoiding him of my own volition.
“Care to elaborate on that, Teddy?” Liam asks, lifting a perfectly thick eyebrow at me in question.
“No.” Damnit. I’m pouting.
“Are you seriously pouting right now?”
“Listen. I don’t want to stay at my mom’s house, okay? He was letting me stay with him. Now I’m fucked. And my stuff is still at his house.” That’s only half of my problem. “Why did you even do that? It wasn’t necessary.”
His mouth is set in a hard line. “I don’t like how he treats you, grabbing your wrist like that. Blatantly disrespecting me. He’s been grating on my nerves since I got here. So, what the fuck did you expect me to do?”
Instead of responding to the crazy shit he just said, I focus my gaze on the other guys.
They’re sitting at a different table letting us talk this shit out.
Liam’s always been protective of me. People gave me a lot of shit growing up until they found out he wouldn’t tolerate it.
But before that, I was shit out of luck.
I don’t need him to protect me like that anymore, though.
I don’t want him to. It gives me false hope.
I know he’s only overly protective of me because he’s crazy for the people he loves—which is basically his mom and me.
He cares about the other guys, but it’s different between him and I, always has been.
We were friends first, since sixth grade.
Nearly ten years. But I’ve spent the last five of them wanting him in a different way, and I’m almost at my breaking point.
“I admit that Asher isn’t great. Okay, I know. But you didn’t have to do that to him. I wish you hadn’t, because I really don’t want to go home tonight.”
A chill raises the hair on my arms when I think about seeing my mom.
“Why are you stressing? You know you can come stay with me. You don’t even need to ask.” He says like it’s the simplest thing in the world, but it’s really not.
I can’t even remember the last time we were alone together because I’ve made it a point not to. I can’t risk him figuring me out, and it’s been getting more and more difficult to hide my reactions to him.
I shake my head at him. “I’ll just go home, it’s not a big deal.”
His face twists up. “You’d rather go home than stay a night at my place? I’m fed up with this shit. You need to tell me what’s going on. I know you’re hiding shit from me.” He bolts up from the table. “Let’s go. You’re not going back there, and you’re not going to Asher’s house either.”
He grabs his cigarettes from his pocket and lights one up.
“We’re heading back to my place,” he informs the guys.
Everyone says goodbye, but I notice Ben is looking at me with concern.
He’s the only person I’ve ever told that I’m secretly in love with Liam, my best friend.
I nod at him to reassure him I’m fine, even though I’m not.
“My longboard is at Asher’s house,” I tell him, feeling like an idiot.
“Alright, I’ll walk with you. You wouldn’t know since you haven’t come over, but it’s not that far from here.”
It’s then that I realize he’s hurt. I didn’t think me not coming around bothered him so much. Great. Now I feel even shittier. He just punched a guy in my honor, and I haven’t even gone to his new place because I’m afraid I’ll pop a boner.
He’s still shirtless as usual. Liam almost never wears a shirt because he sweats so much, but he keeps one on him most of the time, in case he needs to go inside a store or something.
He started getting tattooed back in high school, so now his torso, arms, and hands are covered in swirls of black ink.
His skinny jeans ride low on his hips showing his black briefs. He always wears black ones—never any colors or fun patterns like I wear.
He’s got his dreadlocks loose today, flowing at his shoulder blades.
I stop ogling him, which is much harder than it should be.
I could stare at him forever, I always have.
Since the day I watched as he tried to teach himself how to skate, my eyes have been stuck on him.
No one else. At first, I thought I was so fixated on him because I never had a real friend before.
Especially not one as cool as him. He was everything I wanted to be—brave, tall and strong, and no one fucked with him.
Sometime around high school, I started noticing other things about him. Like how his arms started to bulge with muscle definition and the network of veins wrapping around them. His firm stomach became defined with a six pack, and his jaw got impossibly wider and sharper.
I noticed these changes in a lot of boys while growing up, but they didn’t affect me like Liam’s did. Then again, I wasn’t sleeping next to them most nights, like I was with him. I didn’t get to see them fresh out of the shower with a towel slung low on their hips.
The walk to the hotel is tense and quiet. Liam’s pissed—more so than usual. He always has a mildly annoyed composure, but this feels different. I guess I’ve never really been the reason for his disdain until now.
By the time, the bright red neon Motel sign comes into view, my stomach is in knots; I feel sick. He guides us to his room which is on the first floor, right behind the staircase that leads to the upper level. There’s a single plastic chair sitting outside his window and an ashtray on the sill.
He unlocks the door and steps inside. Immediately, his scent envelops me as I follow in after him. Heat rushes to my groin, and it only serves to make me feel worse.
The room is simple, like any hotel room.
There’s only one bed, though, but there’s a small couch next to the window.
The room is spotless—not a piece of dirty laundry in sight, which doesn’t surprise me.
Even though he grew up in a hotel room, his mom still made him do chores. She treated it like a home.
He opens the fridge and pulls out two bottles of water, tossing me one. I twist the cap and drink, thankful for something to keep my shaky hands busy.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower. You can go next if you want,” he grumbles, going straight for the bathroom. When he shuts the door, the ringing in my ears reaches a deafening level.
I hear the shower turn on as I take a seat on the old couch.
He has a blanket covering the whole thing, just like his mom always did.
I grab a different blanket that’s folded up on the arm of the couch and cover myself up.
These rooms are freezing cold because of the huge A/C units.
I turn on the TV to drown out the sound of the shower, because images of water sliding down his collarbones and chest keep assaulting my mind.
I rub my eyes aggressively. Quit being a perv, Teddy. Come on.
In no time at all, I hear the shower cut off. My heartbeat picks up in my chest, slamming against my ribs. Don’t look. Just don’t look.
The door opens and my eyes dart to him. Fuck me. I nearly whimper at the sight of him, and I know my cheeks are red. I quickly look away and pull the blanket up higher to my chin, focusing my gaze on the TV. I hear him open the closet door and his towel falls to the floor.
Does it not bother him at all to be naked around a gay man?
Of course not, because he trusts me to not be a perv.
I don’t look. The image of his round, firm ass, and huge, thick cock are engraved in my memory anyway.
He’s the only one I think of when I jack off, and it’s been that way forever.
Which is why I don’t do it often, rarely, in fact.
It makes me feel like the shittiest friend on Earth.
“You gonna get a shower?” he asks, his deep voice rumbling through me. He’s dressed now—wearing gray sweatpants and black socks, as usual. Even simple gray sweats look like the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen on him.
“No, I’m good.” No way.
“You know damn well you’re not sleeping in my bed dirty,” he says with a pointed look.