Chapter 13

The only way tokeep my leg from bouncing is to do what I do best.

Talk shit.

It’s not a long drive home, but I’m eager for the time alone with Bentley, so the sooner I drop Tyron and Logan off at the airport, the better.

As the car hums en route, Logan and Tyron are seated in the back. I’ve been chatting pretty much nonstop in my eagerness to help the time speed by.

“I swear, as soon as I’m home, I’m going to demolish a whole batch of Dad’s Thanksgiving cookies.” My mouth waters at the thought.

“Thanksgiving cookies?” Logan asks.

“Fuck yes. No idea what he adds to them, but they’re the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

As soon as the words leave me, there’s movement at my side from the passenger seat. I flick my attention to Bentley, whose eyebrow is arched high as he stares at me. That look alone is 100 percent a silent “Really, the best thing you’ve had in your mouth?”

Fucker.

I can almost hear his follow-up: “That’s not what you said last night.”

And he’d be right.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat but don’t admit anything for obvious reasons.

“So,” I say quickly, trying to steer the conversation back on track, “have you guys ever tried deep-fried turkey? Heard it’s a game-changer.”

I catch Logan’s gaze through the rearview mirror. Both his eyebrows are high. “Deep-fried turkey? Sounds dangerous, man. I’ll stick to the classic roast, I think.”

“You know,” Tyron says, and I prepare myself for an awesome random fact he’s about to share, “Benjamin Franklin once suggested the turkey should be the national bird of the USA. He said the bald eagle had ‘bad moral character’ and that the turkey was more respectable.”

I snort. “Can you imagine a turkey on the Great Seal? Hell, maybe if ‘gobble, gobble’ had been used in the national anthem, there’d be more love when it came to blow jobs.”

Logan snorts out a laugh, and I have a feeling Bentley’s arching that damn sexy eyebrow my way again.

“Damn, Sammy,” Tyron starts, “you’re not getting blow-job love? That sounds tragic.”

Heat touches my cheeks. I’m getting so much cock and ass love that my mind is never far away from the man who’s a master of making me come my brains out. “Don’t you worry about me and the attention given to my cock.”

“Thinking about your cock is not on my to-do list now or ever,” Tyron is quick to say. “You know, nearly one in five Gen-Zers identify as not straight.”

The fuck?

Admittedly, I’m baffled. But also… one in five?

I’m tempted to side-eye Bentley.

I know he’s never been with any other guy before me. My one and only experience is one I bury deep. As far as I’m concerned, Bentley’s the only one. Ever, most likely. The thought should likely make me break out in a sweat, but instead, a thrill of awareness and possibility shoots through me.

One in five.

“Is that figure from that global survey a few years back?” Logan asks.

“Yeah. So, statistically speaking, our team is right on average.”

I focus straight ahead as Tyron speaks, still stumbling over that figure.

I suppose it makes sense. In truth, it’s not even that I’m into a guy that’s an issue. Okay, on some level, it is, but I’m not ashamed of how I feel about Bentley. And taking it up the ass? Not a fucking chance I can ever be a hater of that. How I feel when Bentley’s inside me is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s right. We’re right.

“I like to think we’re better than an average team, though,” Tyron says.

Usually I’d be pumping my fist in agreement, as he’s absolutely right about that, but I’m still processing.

For almost eight months, the most I’ve admitted to Bentley is that obviously I’m into him, and that literally happened only this past month. Though, sucking his dick on the regular all this time was a dead giveaway.

I know I talk a lot of shit—and often—but that conversation makes everything real. And considering the shift in our relationship over the past few weeks, I suppose we should have it.

I should at least tell him the whole truth.

Maybe?

Fuck, is it even something that needs to be done?

“Not to say bromance isn’t a thing.”

My brow wrinkles at Tyron’s words. I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about now, or why he’s even talking at all.

“Because it is, but let’s look at Gale Sutton and Jayden Moore. Ultimate bromance goals right there.”

Tyron’s on a complete tangent. He does this even more than I do.

But fuck if his words don’t pull me up short and make my brain screech to a halt. My heart, too, before it restarts and bounces all over the place.

Moore and Sutton.

Hell, two League players. Teammates and best friends for years. Everyone knows that.

The similarities smack into me.

That’s fucking us, right? Me and Bentley?

Holy shit.

Sure, Sutton and Moore are pro, something Bentley and I have no real aspirations of being, but still…. They’re also engaged.

Not that we’re engaged, but we could be one day, right? Hell, we could get married. No fucker could split us up then.

Those guys have figured it out. I don’t think Moore and Sutton even spoke up and said anything about their sexuality. It was literally a kiss on camera, then later an engagement announcement.

Tyron is still talking. I still have no idea why, but all these thoughts bouncing around my brain are making it difficult to concentrate—something I need to do so I don’t crash and kill us all.

He continues, saying, “They were friends, inseparable, and I assume at some point secretly crushing on each other. Had a whole relationship on the down-low too. A hell of a thing to keep that a secret from the media so long, since they’re in the spotlight.”

There’s movement from Bentley. His gaze is on me. I feel it like a gentle caress.

If I look at him, everything I feel for the man will be front and center. For as successful as I’ve been at keeping this thing between us contained, the past few weeks have made it increasingly difficult.

Is that because I wish like hell it didn’t have to be like this? That’s a hard yes.

“Were you going somewhere with your bromance and statistics speech?”

Thank fuck Logan asks.

“Don’t I always have a point?”

I hear the smirk in Tyron’s voice, and I kinda want to punch him right now. Or maybe hide his not-so-secret stash of candy.

Somehow, I find my voice. “No.” I risk a glance in the mirror. Yeah, I definitely want to hide his candy. The weird, satisfied smirk he directs my way has alarm bells ringing.

Because the fucker is right. He does always have a point.

He’s also an observant asshole.

“Well, in this instance, all I’m saying is that my own sexuality came as a surprise, and the whole team has been fucking awesome about it.”

“Well, of course we have,” I answer immediately and focus on the road.

My throat feels tight. He knows. My IQ is nothing like Tyron’s, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s absolutely onto us.

“And there’s been no ‘why didn’t you tell me before?’ bullshit. Just complete acceptance,” Tyron continues like a dog with a fucking bone.

Maybe I’ll also eat all his damn candy too. Fuck hiding it.

I’m viscerally aware of every move Bentley makes, even though the number of thoughts bouncing around my brain is taking its toll. When he shifts and peers back at Tyron, I hold my breath.

“Did you surprise yourself as well?”

Jesus H. Christ. How is it that this whole weird-as-fuck conversation is shedding light on stuff I know we should have likely talked about at some point but never have? When Bentley and I kissed, it was a moment, the start of something I’m beginning to understand was years in the making.

Did I think he was hot the first time I met him? Absolutely. But like always with any attraction I felt for any man, I pushed it deep, the memory and threat from my dad a living nightmare.

“I figured out I saw sex and attraction differently when I was about fifteen. I put it down to the way my brain worked and didn’t think any more about it, honestly.”

“Seriously?” I shoot my gaze to Tyron, not hiding my surprise. “You didn’t go into research mode?”

“I didn’t feel the need to. That I wasn’t interested in anyone, I accepted as being my normal. Told Dad that I didn’t want to date anyone, and he was ridiculously happy that I was focusing on studying rather than risking getting a girl knocked up.”

I side-eye Bentley when he moves again. Color sits high on his cheeks. “And you’ve hooked up with a girl before, right?”

I’m so focused on the flush, thinking about how ridiculously sexy he is, that I miss their next words. We might not be at my home for long, but there’s a lot more privacy there than in our college house. I plan to make good use of that time. The basement bedroom has super-thick walls.

I tune back in when Bentley says, “So, you didn’t know you were interested in men before Logan?”

My breath catches at his words, my sexy thoughts screeching to a halt.

Bentley flicks me a glance, and our gazes connect for the briefest of moments before I stare at the road ahead. This trip has taken a gazillion years. Why the hell aren’t we at the drop-off zone already?

It’s when Tyron mentions OnlyFans that my brain short-circuits completely.

“You… what… you do?” I splutter, struggling to get my brain around Tyron subscribing to a guy jacking off.

“Hell yes. I’ll send you the link.”

A heavy thump punches against my ribcage. “That’s not what I—” I start, but Tyron cuts me off.

I only half listen, sitting up a little straighter when I see the sign for the airport.

Halle-fucking-lujah.

“Friends who fuck is a thing, and I’m sure it can be fun.”

I snap my attention to Tyron through the mirror. I’m not just going to eat his candy. I’m going to leave the empty wrappers all over his bed as a big fuck you.

That’s not what this thing between me and Bentley is. Not anymore.

A flash of a sign catches my attention, and my shoulders practically sag in relief. I throw on the blinker like it’s the lever to my survival. I need Tyron out of the car.

There are too many thoughts stacking on top of each other in my head. There’s also a loop as I reluctantly mull over everything Tyron said. The things I keep circling back to are that he doesn’t know my situation, so he can’t possibly understand, and the whole social media coverage of Sutton and Moore is on replay.

“But it’s inevitable that one person is going to get hurt, and the friendship’s likely going to be ruined.”

Tyron is still talking, but there’s buzzing in my ears.

Like fuck anyone is going to get hurt. My eye twitches. I hate it, only because I know for a fact how I previously handled my relationship with Bentley was fucked-up and that I did hurt him.

But that was then.

I pop the trunk of my car as Tyron steps out, Logan following closely.

As they say goodbye, my brain is stuck on how to make sure I don’t hurt Bentley again. It’s the last thing I want to do.

Everything I’ve done has been to protect Bentley and myself. He knows that. It doesn’t matter what Tyron says or what he thinks; he doesn’t have any idea of why it’s necessary to protect Bentley.

“You okay?”

Bentley’s quiet question is enough to cut through the loud noise in my head.

I turn to him as much as my seat belt will allow. The blinker is still on, the engine still running, but all I hear is my racing, thundering heart.

Concern etches his features, and I know he wants to reach out and comfort me. I hate that he hesitates, even though I appreciate it.

But for the moment, he can comfort me. Here, in our little bubble alone, Tyron and Logan long gone, and before reality smacks me in the face when we arrive at my folks’ house, I can do this for him. For us.

“I love you, Bentley.” Despite the dryness in my throat, I push on. “Somewhere between you being my best friend and the person I trust the most in the world, I fell so fucking hard for you. I want to give you everything you deserve, and I promise someday I’ll make that happen.”

I’ve surprised the hell out of him.

He clutches my hand, wide-eyed and breathing heavily. The flush in his cheeks is back.

Outside, a car horn honks—likely at me, since I should have pulled out straightaway. But Bentley demands my whole attention. Even if that’s not his intention, he has it anyway.

Thoughts continue to circle, almost at the point of spiraling until they land on what I need to do.

Fuck that, what I want to do.

But to do that, I need to burst this bubble we’re in before I ask him the question that’s desperate to erupt.

I need to tell him the truth.

“What’s wrong? Your expression’s changed.” He drops his gaze and peers at our joined hands. “You’re shaking. What’s going on?” Worry makes his words tremble.

My mouth turns Sahara dry, but I can’t put this off. If I really want to do this with Bentley, he needs to know the truth. “It’s about what happened to Jamaal, and my—Trevin. What he did.”

A furrow appears between his brows. Usually, I’d smooth it out, but I can’t get distracted.

“O-kay?”

I swallow hard, the click loud in the car. “I’m gay.”

Bentley startles, his brows shooting high even as confusion sweeps over his features. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to say those words either. Fuck, it’s the first time I have.

He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he squeezes my hand, and a sweet smile settles on his lips.

“I’ve known I was gay since puberty. Jamaal and I were going at it in the storage closet in the gym.” Heat slams into me as I speak, and I can’t believe I’m finally sharing this with him. “Uhm… he was blowing me when Trevin burst into the room.” I wince at the memory, and Bentley squeezes my hand tighter.

I shake my head as the moment flashes in my mind. “I didn’t even know Trevin was in town. We had a game that night, and he was never around. Jamaal and I had told Coach we’d sort the storage room and make sure it was locked up. The only person who should have been on-site was the janitor. Fuck.”

“Hey.” Quiet and calm, Bentley’s voice washes over me. “You don’t have to tell me any more. I know the outcome, right?”

Mutely, I nod. I’d told him about the attack—so technically the outcome. Not in graphic detail, but why would I share that with anyone? Even the police didn’t need much confirmation. The iron bar covered in blood and hair with Trevin’s fingerprints on it had been more than enough evidence.

“It wasn’t your fault.” He leans into my space and tugs me into an awkward hold, grasping me so tightly, I’ll be feeling his touch long after he’s let me go. “I know you, Sammy. And I’m telling you now, this was not your fault. What you were doing wasn’t wrong. Trevin is completely responsible.”

I go to pull away, denial on the tip of my tongue. If we hadn’t been there… if Jamaal hadn’t been sucking me off?—

“No.” He holds on, refusing to let me ease out of his hold. “You were fifteen, and what you and Jamaal went through, no one should ever have to go through. Nothing about what happened is okay or right or fair, nor is any of it your fault.”

Fuck. A tear slips down my cheek, and I burrow my head into his neck. “But I didn’t tell anyone what Jamaal and I were doing. He was out, and Trevin admitted he attacked him because he didn’t want his son corrupted. I never corrected him. Neither did Jamaal. Fuck, Trevin never told anyone that I was getting blown by a guy. Who the fuck does that? Keeps their mouth shut like that? I’m a fucking cowa?—”

“No. Fuck no.” Holding on to my shoulders, Bentley eases away and looks me in the eyes. My vision is blurry, and I can only imagine what a mess I look like. “You were fucking fifteen. In no situation ever should you be forced to come out. Jamaal was protecting you. He chose not to tell the whole truth. Did you ask him not to? Force him?”

My face scrunches in horror. “Of course fucking not.”

“So that was his choice.” A tender smile forms on his lips as he wipes away my tears. “I love you, Sammy. So fucking much. Thank you for trusting me with the truth.”

A shuddery breath escapes me, and I struggle to get my thoughts together, let alone my emotions.

“You don’t hate me?” God, I hate how pitiful I sound, but I need to know, even if I don’t understand it.

“I could never hate you, Sammy. Not ever.”

Our gazes remain connected. There’s no hesitation, no shying away. He’s letting me see what’s in his heart.

I still need to talk about Trevin and my fears. But first, I need to say this, ask this, fucking do this before the words explode out of me.

“Marry me.”

Bentley parts his lips, his brows darting so high, it should be comical. But I’m deadly serious about this. About him.

“Now. Today. Before we go home. Bentley, I love you so fucking much, and what I’m asking of you, to keep everything quiet, is shit and harsh, but I promise it won’t be forever. I just….” I trail off, my words catching in my throat at the tears welling in his eyes. Fuck. “I love you so fucking much. Will you marry me?”