16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Paul
I can’t believe I just kissed my best friend! What the hell is wrong with me?
Am I having, like, a pre-mid-life crisis? Is it the stress of the fire?
No.
No, I don’t think I can blame this on stress no matter how badly I wish I could.
I swallow the lump forming in my throat as I wait for Andre to say something, anything. Hell, I’d even take a, “Fuck you, what you were thinking?” at this point, because the silence is making me feel like I’ve just totally fucked up somehow.
“Dre, I—”
I barely get his name out before he pulls me closer and crushes his lips to mine. The tension melts away, because Dre is kissing me. Again.
My best friend—my very male best friend—is kissing me, his tongue is in my mouth, and
I don’t hate it one fucking bit.
What the hell?
Is there something in the water? How can this be happening now, of all fucking times? Cam and Austen I get—pretty sure the only oblivious one was Austen—but this is Andre and… me.
I’ve seen plenty of guys naked in the locker room, and never have I once looked at a guy and felt like I wanted to kiss him.
Or like I wanted him to kiss me, which is definitely how I felt last night before the phone rang.
My hand settles on his hip as I pull him closer, and that’s when I feel him.
Solid as steel.
Which is… confusing on one level because I’m not entirely sure it’s because of me. I mean, I’ve definitely been dealing with the same thing on and off.
Whenever we’ve shared a bed.
And that’s when I realize I’m hard, too. Fuck.
My heartbeat races as my cock twitches, and I know he feels it. I know he knows, but…
Oh, shit.
Before I can process what’s happening, there is a loud screeching sound; both our phones blaring, and Dre slowly pulls away from me, his gaze flashing up to meet mine. His eyebrows furrow, his kiss-swollen lips parting, and I can’t take my eyes off of them.
His lips were soft, smooth, and warm. Not all that different from kissing a woman’s lips, but also…
It definitely feels different. Maybe a little confusing, but good.
Really good, if I’m being honest.
The phones continue to ring, and I close my eyes, knowing the minute I pick up the phone, reality is going to shatter everything.
And maybe I’m selfish, because I don’t want reality right now. I want whatever this is. Even though I have no idea what this is.
But I like how it feels, even if I don’t understand why I feel this way or how it happened.
Is that enough?
I roll over and grab my phone as Dre does the same, except he gets out of bed completely, and I don’t miss how he adjusts his dick in his sweatpants before he answers the phone.
My own dick jumps, and I curse as I do my best to will my dick with a mind of its own to cool it.
“Hello?” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Hey,” a familiar voice sighs. I look up to see Dre on his phone, slipping out of the room, into the hallway, and the only thing I hear from him as he walks out is, “No, Mom, I’m fine, I just overslept…”
At least he could sleep. I barely slept a wink last night after what happened. That is, until I ended up cuddling my best friend like a damn teddy bear.
It was like somewhere between the spicy scent of Dre and the warmth of our body heat, I just… couldn’t help but give in to it.
“I didn’t wake you, did I? Shit, what time is it there?” Amelia starts rattling off, and I groan, rubbing my eyes.
“No, you didn’t wake me. I was up, just…” I clear my throat. “Rough night. Didn’t sleep well.”
It’s not a lie, but it’s not the entire truth, either.
But what can I tell her? That Dre and I are…
what? Making out in his bed? Yeah, I’m sure that will go over well.
Knowing my ex-wife, she’d ask me a hundred questions and want every single detail and receipt, and I’m not sure I even know how to answer her, let alone myself at the moment.
“Can I talk to Maddox?”
I tense.
“Um… he’s not… here… at the moment.”
“What do you mean? Where is he? Is he in the bathroom?” Amelia’s voice tenses.
“Please tell me you didn’t let him go to the track,” she says with worry.
“No, he’s with Dre’s parents. Rylee spends a night or two there. They offered to take Maddox, too, you know… keep his mind off stuff. He wanted to go.”
Amelia hums, the relief in her voice evident. “Oh, okay. That was nice of them.”
“Yeah, they are good people. Talked to him last night; he sounded like he was having a great time.”
There’s a strange sort of tightness in my chest at those words.
Not because I miss him—which I do, of course—but because part of me feels guilty that I can’t give him the same kind of experiences, even if I wanted to.
And part of me feels like a failure because I feel like I’m just making things worse by letting him experience these moments, knowing they won’t be repeated or routine, like they are for Rylee.
“Our flight’s scheduled to depart at five. By the time we get in, get the car, it’ll be around nine.”
“Right… your flight back is today,” I say, falling onto the bed. I lean back and stare up at the ceiling. Dre’s side of the bed is still warm where my hand rests, and I swear if I close my eyes, I can pretend he’s here, and it feels a little better.
“Did you forget?” she asks curiously.
“No,” I lie. I didn’t forget.
Guess my mind completely crashed out when Dre kissed me.
“You want me to bring him by tomorrow morning?” I ask.
“No, Sean says we can swing by on the way back and grab him. Save you a trip. I’m sure you’re exhausted. You’ve had a long week.”
I hate how she knows me so well. Hate that she is so understanding and caring. even though she doesn’t have to be.
I wouldn’t say Amelia and I were ever close, even in college.
We were both in a lot of the same classes since she was studying kinesthesiology, so we gravitated towards one another, if only so class wouldn’t be so lonely or awkward.
And I guess in some ways, she’s still trying to make things less awkward, except now it really does feel weird because Amelia knows me too well.
And her motherly desire to help me or make things easier for me, when I should be the one making things easier for her…
Before I can answer her, she clears her throat.
“You… are still at Dre’s right?”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Yeah.”
I’m in his bed. Where we’ve been sleeping together for the last few days.
Where I kissed him, moments ago…
“Cool. I’ll call you when we’re close,” she says.
I let out a low huff. “Yeah, sounds good.”
Just as I move to hang up, Amelia’s voice stops me.
“It’s going to be okay, you know,” she says softly. “We’ll figure this out.”
I don’t argue with her because I can’t.
I also don’t know if I believe her, because everything seems so completely upside down right now, I don’t know how in the hell I’m going to get things back to the way they are supposed to be.
What if I don’t want things to go back to the way they were?
“Thanks,” I say. “Have a safe flight.”
And with that, I don’t wait to hang up, both relieved and guilt-ridden about getting my ex-wife off the phone.
It isn’t until I hear the sound of Dre’s breathing, his footsteps, that I realize he’s in the room.
I sit up.
“How long have you been there?” I ask with panic.
“Long enough,” he says carefully as he opens his drawer and pulls out clean underwear, jeans, and fitted white tee. I let my gaze drift up and down his back, taking in his physique. The curve of his biceps, the swell of his ass.
My stupid cock jumps back to life and I absent-mindedly adjust myself as I try to not gawk at my best friend, even though I can’t deny he looks really good in those damn sweatpants.
“What did your mom want?” I ask, forcing myself to get up and do the same.
“I usually go for breakfast every Sunday before taking Rylee back home,” he explains.
I pull on my neon green tank—courtesy of my new wardrobe—because I would not let Dre buy me an entire closet full of clothes.
I’m a simple guy when it comes to clothes; like Mack.
I don’t need much, not like a walk-in closet like Alex or a room full of sneakers, like Dre.
I just need some polos and jeans, some basic athletic wear—ball shorts, track pants, tanks and some Under Armour from time to time, and a good pair of running shoes, and I’m set.
Maybe a couple pairs of khakis—some basic ones for work, and a dressy pair for holiday parties and football banquets.
“Oh,” I say as I slip on the matching black with green stripes satin athletic shorts. Bright colors always make my tan look darker than it is, which I appreciate.
And then I realize when I look at the clock how late it actually is. It’s almost eleven am. Shit.
No wonder Amelia was worried about me. I never sleep in this late.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
Dre holds up his hands. “It’s fine. Really. But we should, uh… probably head over there soon because my mom’s got a lesson at noon.”
I can’t play instruments for shit, mostly because I can’t read music, but I envy those who can.
Dre’s mom is one of those people. She’s been playing piano for ages and runs lessons out of her house.
Which she was doing before Dre moved in with Rylee after he lost Victoria.
Now with him out of the house, I guess she’s back to the grind of teaching little kids how to play piano.
And clarinet, and whatever else the kids want to classify as an instrument these days.
“Right, of course,” I say, clearing my throat. Dre watches me intently, and I meet his gaze. The tension, the silence is awkward, but not in a bad way. More like an… unfamiliar way.
I wait for him to move, but he doesn’t.
I’m not sure if he wants me to make a move… on him, or out of this bedroom. Maybe a little of column a; maybe a little of column b.
I take a step forward, though I wish I could stay here, in this little spotlight of bright sunlight shining through the windows, towards the door, and only when I hear Andre’s sigh of relief behind me, following me, do I feel like I can finally breathe.
The drive over to the Taylor’s is quiet, save for the sound of the radio. Not that we always talk, but it feels like we’re avoiding it. Or rather the elephant in the room. Finally, because I can’t stand it anymore, I blurt out, “This doesn’t have to be awkward or weird, you know.”
Andre doesn’t answer me, so I keep talking, mostly out of nerves but also because I can’t help but feel like I need to for the sake of my sanity—or whatever remains of it.
“I’m not, like… secretly into guys or anything.”
“I know that, Paul.” Andre clears his throat.
“But I don’t regret what happened, if that’s what you are worried about.” The words fall out of my mouth without warning. “I’d do it again.” Heat rushes through me. “If you wanted to, I mean.”
Andre is quiet for a moment, and I worry I just did the opposite of what I’m trying to avoid, and made it fucking awkward.
Good job, Paul.
“You would?” His question feels unsure, which isn’t like him.
I let out a sigh. “Yeah, I would. Would you?”
I swear waiting for his answer is actually killing me.
“Yes,” he says solidly, and I breathe a sound of relief just as we pull up to the Taylor’s. This conversation might be over right now, but it certainly won’t be forgotten. Just like I don’t think I’ll ever forget what his lips felt like on mine. Not in a million years.
“Okay, then.”
Andre lets out a breath. “Okay, then.”
I feel like we’re both agreeing that this won’t be the last time. And though that should feel weird, it doesn’t.
I really wish I could kiss him right now. But I can't, because as soon as the car is in park, the kids are running towards it, shrieking and laughing, and before I know it they’re piling in and talking a mile a minute.
Though, if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that I’m already anticipating the next kiss... and maybe even a little more if that’s what he wants.
Because I’m starting to think I do.