Chapter 1

It burns.

Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.

I swallow as I grab my beer. I gulp the contents until the taste of whatever rancid shit Sammy put in the shot disappears.

“Best one yet, huh?” Grinning big, Sammy is the picture of a self-satisfied drunkard.

He looks so damn happy with himself that it’s impossible not to shake my head and smile back. That I don’t think my stomach will revolt has a lot to do with the smirk.

“It tastes like a coyote took a shit in a dumpster and invited a bunch of skunks along for the ride,” I challenge, loving the dramatic parting of his lips and the incredulous gasp he shoots me a little too much.

Sammy is always the heart and soul of every party, but he makes the meanest, most toxic shot combinations. It’s as funny as it is endearing, especially since he legit thinks he’s the master of his creations.

“Screw you.” There’s zero heat in his tone. Instead, he thrusts a different shot my way. “Try this one.”

I eye the off-green contents. The liquid looks vile.

It’s time to retreat.

But Sammy knows my moves. My tells.

Being best friends since the first day of training, when he persuaded me and the other freshmen on the team to join him for a party that same night, has made the past three years interesting and admittedly epic.

He’s why college has been the most incredible experience ever and why our team is so close. Our starting five crew especially.

That’s all down to Sammy pulling us together and getting us involved.

He’s also why I’m already dreading next year being our final one at Brixham U.

And with only a month until the end of the school year, I don’t want the shot he’s encouraging me to drink.

The last thing I want is to miss a thing by passing out from the radiation poisoning in a glass he’s hovering in front of me.

“Nuh-uh.”

With a gleam still in his eyes, he steps into my space and wraps an arm around my shoulders. I hold back the shudder of awareness—something that’s been building for the past year, truth be told. He follows up with a smacking kiss on my temple and squeezes my shoulder, and fuck if I wouldn’t mind being wrapped up in him all night.

It’s his “Come on, sweetheart” that catches my breath.

My gaze snaps to his. He’s so close, I can see the touch of gray in his startling green irises even in the low lighting of the party. When our eyes make contact, I first see his surprise. Yeah, the “sweetheart” is something new for us.

The arm he puts around me and the regular touches aren’t so unusual.

Though they tend to be only for me.

It’s a wayward, dangerous thought and should be confusing, since I’ve never given a guy a sideways glance. Not ever.

Until Sammy.

But he’s an asshole, and I’m sure his mission—whether he’s aware of it or not—is to be as many of my firsts as possible.

Not that that’s what I think is happening here. But fuck if the way we’re standing so close that our breaths are exchanging doesn’t make me wonder if I’m wrong.

“What the hell is that?”

Leon’s question makes us jump. The contents in the shot glass spill over the edge, coating Sammy’s hand.

Sammy’s quick to respond. “Jerkoff, look what you’ve made me do.”

With his arm still around my back, he angles to look at me, demanding my attention. I give it willingly—hell, automatically. It’s like he’s the damn sun: where he goes, I’m hot on his tail, desperate to be pulled into his orbit like he’s living, breathing gravity.

His eyebrow arches high, and a smirk slips over his lips as he looks at me. “What do you think, Bentley?”

I don’t need further clarification. Not with Sammy.

“Oh, absolutely. A request if ever I heard one.” I grin, my heart hammering when Sammy’s gaze dips briefly to my lips. It’s the barest of movements and doesn’t linger, but it takes strength to calm my reaction.

“Here.” Sammy thrusts the glass at Leon. “You drink that and manage to tell me the correct ingredients, and I’ll do your kitchen duties next week.”

Predictably, Leon takes the glass. He hates kitchen duty and is regularly trying to exchange that chore with literally anything else. “Done.”

A moment later, we’re laughing our asses off as Leon coughs up a lung and fails spectacularly at guessing the contents. We’re still giggling like schoolboys when we collapse onto the couch. Kieran has already commandeered one of the armchairs and Tyron another.

My ass has barely touched the cushion before Sammy’s stretched out, his head on my lap, as he starts talking to Kieran about his summer work plans.

I’m half paying attention, hyperaware of Sammy being close to my dick. Close? I hold back a snort. Who am I kidding? His head’s settled on it, and from how my arm instinctively drapes over him, hand landing on his chest, it’s in agreement that it’s where it belongs.

And I suppose it is.

Not a single person in our group bats an eye. There’s no double take. No raised eyebrow.

Why would there be when this is how Sammy and I are together? We always have been.

If only they knew how much more significant these moments feel to me. How I wish for more.

“Huh?” I all but splutter when I hear my name.

Sammy’s head rubs against my cock as he maneuvers to stare up at me. At the sensation, my breath hitches involuntarily.

A moment passes between us when we make eye contact. It’s frozen. Our not-so-simple gazes connecting and wide-eyed awareness made even more palpable when my chubbing cock nudges Sammy’s head.

A thick swallow from Sammy drags my attention to his bobbing Adam’s apple. I wonder what his skin would taste like. If I kissed the column of his neck and sucked lightly, would he like it?

How hard would I need to suck for his dark skin to show a love bite?

He shifts again, and my eyes snap to his. “Kieran wanted to know if we’re ready to leave. I’m feeling pretty wasted.” Focus unwavering, he turns his head to rub against my dick in a deliberate move if I’ve ever seen one.

I can’t breathe. Can barely think. I certainly can’t speak.

Instead, I nod, swallowing loudly enough to capture Sammy’s attention once again.

And then I lose his gaze as he peers at the guys, letting them know we’re good to leave.

I’m mildly surprised to see Dean sitting on the arm of the other couch. When did he arrive?

To be honest, I shouldn’t be all that shocked that he didn’t go a whole night without finding his boyfriend, Kieran. Not that anyone beyond our housemates knows the real relationship between our Bears captain and our mascot.

I use my wandering thoughts to distract myself—or, specifically, to calm my hard-on. By the time we’re all moving and head outside, my dick’s only half hard. Not ideal, but at least a small adjustment conceals it well enough.

With plenty of street lighting around, it makes for an easy walk home. It’s still warm despite being late. Summer’s just around the corner, and the Georgia air is giving us just a hint of what’s to come.

“You good?” Sammy’s arm brushes mine as we head down the street. I can already see our off-campus rental.

“Yeah,” I say. “Tired, and that last shot is kicking my ass.”

I’m sort of telling the truth. I am tired. While basketball season is over, we’re still training regularly. It’s also close to finals, so I’m studying my ass off.

Sammy’s last concoction also made my head spin.

Not that I’m really feeling it anymore.

Between the “sweetheart,” the zap of awareness between us, and Sammy knowing he made my dick hard, I’m practically sober. The fuzziness in my head is gone. It’s the boldness refusing to leave my bloodstream that’s slightly disconcerting. It’s making me think about a whole range of impossible things.

Mainly, if I kiss Sammy, what will he do?

I’m not even freaking out. Okay, I know when to call bull. I am a little overwhelmed, but not by the kissing-a-guy thing. Common sense tells me I probably should be. But intellectually, I know damn well that sexuality is nowhere near as clear-cut as far-righters proclaim.

The Kinsey Scale may be old as fuck, but there’s a whole lot of relevance and truth to it.

“Thank Christ there’s no training tomorrow.” Sammy chuckles. “Coach would take one look at us and make us do his hangover regimen.”

My lips twitch because Sammy is totally right. Coach may be epic, but he can be sadistic as hell. “You got plans beyond studying tomorrow?”

“Nah. I have an assignment due Tuesday. I need to get a move on with it.”

I nod, a fresh tingle traveling along my skin when our arms brush for the hundredth time.

Kieran’s walking ahead and reaches the door first. He unlocks it and lets Dean in before him. As soon as they’re across the threshold, Kieran’s hauling Dean close and kissing the shit out of him.

My stomach tightens in envy.

I glance away, letting Sammy in ahead of me and working hard not to lean into him to capture his scent one last time before I head to bed. Tyron goes to the kitchen, while Leon stumbles up the stairs.

As the last one in, I turn and lock the door.

I need a moment to pull myself together.

Sammy’s my best friend. He also presents as straight. Maybe it’s all in my head, this spark between us. Perhaps this awareness is just one-sided.

Dean’s and Kieran’s footsteps are gone, the sudden hush punctuated only by the closing of a bedroom door. Tyron’s moving something in the kitchen, and I suspect Leon’s collapsed on his bed. Probably fully clothed.

The hallway turns quiet.

With a shaky exhale, I press my forehead to the locked front door. What the hell am I going to do about all these trapped feelings? I rub my chest.

I don’t want to lose Sammy. I can’t. It’s cliché as fuck, but the man means the world to me.

What I need to do is suck it up and get my ass to bed. When alcohol isn’t flowing through my veins, my emotions will be easier to manage. A good night’s sleep will help with that.

I turn, and the hallway is truly empty.

Sammy’s not here, but what did I expect—for him to be standing behind me, ready to capture me in his arms and finally press his mouth to mine? Jesus. I release a self-deprecating snort.

I push away from the door, kick off my shoes, and leave them in the pile next to the overflowing shoe rack. I walk up the staircase, keeping my tread light. So, what, Sammy didn’t say good night? I’m such a sucker for his attention, but that’s on me.

I make a pit stop at the bathroom. I can’t be bothered to shower, but I relieve myself, then brush my teeth and wash my face and pits. I leave the light on in the upstairs hallway, since Tyron is still up, and go into my bedroom.

The bedside lamp’s on. Confusion pulls my brows low. I don’t remember?—

My heart jackhammers as the door closes with a quiet snick, and my gaze lands on Sammy. He’s here. Next to my desk. He’s ramrod straight and not moving. Well, his chest is heaving. His gaze locks with mine, and his lips part before he presses them together and swallows deeply.

Holy fucking shit.

Words escape me. The hell am I meant to do? How do I react?

What the fuck is going on?

Hope blooms in my chest, but I’m too terrified to give it room and space to grow.

Sammy being in my bedroom isn’t new. We’re together more than we’re apart. The two of us falling asleep and sharing a bed isn’t the most unusual thing ever.

But this is different. I know it is.

The air crackles, that gravitational pull between us sparking to life.

I swear, the way he looks at me, it’s as if he can see right through to my soul.

His presence fills the room, dominating the space in the way only Sammy can manage. But where there’s usually laughter between us, now it’s all tension. It’s palpable and thickening as each breath saws out of me.

I can’t tear my gaze away from him. I should speak, right? Say something? Ask if he’s okay?

But I don’t get a chance. He’s moving, one slow step in front of another.

My breath catches when our chests touch, and then he steals it from me as his mouth captures mine. And I’m floating, adrift on tongues and lips and overwhelming sensation as I willingly fall into the kiss.

As our lips mold together, time seems to halt. Every nerve in my body ignites and burns with an intensity that threatens to consume me. If that’s the case, I’ll go willingly and surrender completely.

What wouldn’t I do to have Sammy like this?