Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Reed

I shove my hands in my pockets as I step past the wrought iron gates of the Belmont, the brim of my hat pulled low. The sun warms the back of my neck until I walk into the shadows, dark or boarded windows looming overhead.

Two days away from here, and I'd almost forgotten what this place felt like.

I'd fallen back into my usual life. Even without playing, it was just so easy . The stroll into the locker room, the sense of knowing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. How to be with the guys, what to say, who to be.

It was… I don't know. I flip my hat.

Thankfully, Colin didn't mention Lennox in front of anyone else.

I don't know if he sensed my unease, which was probably obvious considering how tangled I was over Indy and Lennox. Or maybe, it just wasn't a big deal to him. He was so fucking cool about it.

He didn't bring it up again until the bus ride home, when it was just the two of us, saying that if I wanted to head straight over to see him, he could drop my duffle at home.

And I mumbled an "Alright" because I did kinda want to head straight over to the hotel.

Although it was because I was already running late for filming.

Not because I wanted to see Lennox. I've got responsibilities I agreed to.

Right.

I take a breath, slip out my phone, and then send him a text asking if they're here. I type quickly, my fingers tense a little at the thought of seeing him.

He's here somewhere. Close by. And I need to tell him I…

I don't know. But it feels like we need to talk tonight, before Indy gets back from LA.

My shoulders stiffen as I stare at my phone, waiting for his response. I wonder what he'll say to me.

My heart lets out a double thump when his typing bubbles show, my stomach firming, even my dick responds.

Jesus, my dick responds to his typing bubbles.

How is it possible that this is a normal reaction to a person?

It's not.

His text comes through. Meet me by the main stairs .

For some reason, that text only makes every one of my muscles tighter.

This is so fucking wrong.

Be there in thirty seconds, I text back before shoving my phone in my pocket then heading inside. My heart rate is still elevated, my muscles still tight. I tell myself it's about the old hotel, and it partly is.

This place is creepy as fuck. Every sound hushes as soon as the door closes behind me.

There's no electrical noise, which constantly freaks me out. So much noise comes from electronics—the hum of the lights and the circulation systems, computers and appliances, even just wiring. Without all that, the quiet is quieter. And the random creaks and settling of the building are really fucking loud.

I enter the lobby and turn on my phone's flashlight. My eyes fixate on the stairs. I haven't been anywhere off the main floor. Have they since I've been gone?

Thinking about journeying either up or down is giving me some serious heart palpitations.

I head to the stairs and stop.

Lennox .

Ohhh fuck. I react. Like really react. He's standing with his back to me, head tilted as he peers up the stairs, black hoodie and jeans, tight around his thighs, his phone sticking out of his back pocket. He's got a real flashlight this time, and I should probably get one too, considering that my phone's about dead.

I consciously try not to react. But my hand subtly fists, the muscles in my forearms rolling. The weight of my dick, packed down along my thigh, suddenly feels relevant. And then that makes me feel like an asshole because it shouldn't be relevant. Not because my attraction's for a dude, which I've started to adjust to, but because of Indy. Because I'm not the kind of guy to fucking do that.

Except, here I am.

He turns partially, his hand coming up to rub at his neck in the way he does, pinkie nail painted a light blue. The others are different colors today too—light blue, white, and pink. And for some reason that… Fuck. I bite back a moan. Why does that turn me on so much? Especially combined with the black on top of his eyelids. Eyeliner? Eye shadow? Whatever it is, it makes his eyes stand out, his lashes look longer and darker, the rise of his cheekbones stronger. I want to keep looking at him. Have him hold still so that I can notice every detail.

"Hey," he says stiffly, his hand falling.

I don't know what to say.

I don't want to talk. I want to go to him. I want to back him up against the wall, feel the way he kisses, his response when I touch him, the way his skin heats, the way he tastes.

I steady my face, trying to keep any emotion tucked away.

He hesitates when I don't speak, then shakes his head. "How was your trip?"

"Lost one, won one," I say. I don't know what else to tell him. That I spent most of the time thinking about him? About what that kiss meant? About who I am?

Fuck, I don't know what I'm doing. I just need to get on with whatever we're supposed to do tonight. Go home, crawl into bed and squeeze my eyes shut so hard that my eyelids ache, that I see rings of white light. The way I used to do when I was younger and my brother was pestering me about whatever I'd fucked up.

I nod at the stairs. "Are we going up?"

"Down." Lennox's eyes narrow more, like he's reading something in my expression even though I've got it locked down. He frowns and continues. "Jamie wants to scout a place in the basement. There's supposed to be a rec room with a bar and pool tables."

"And I'm sure you're not thinking about that elevator shaft at all."

"Not at all." His cheek twitches, a touch of humor in his tone. "Although, if we pass by it, then we might as well stop."

"Okay." I swallow, the way he's looking at me—with those narrowed eyes—it's making my dick is throb, my chest constrict. There's a vibration starting somewhere deep. I don't know what that is—a need that's never come up before. It's in my abdomen, in my thighs, in my ass, in my fingers. "I suppose we should get on with it."

His lips part. "Are you going to tell her?"

Fuck, so we're going there. I guess I'm not surprised. Lennox doesn't seem to hold back with me.

I stare at him straight on. "Yes."

"Good." He turns. "She deserves to know."

He takes a step down.

"Just like that?" I ask.

He pauses, twisting to look back at me. "What do you mean?"

"You don't think that this could fuck up your friendship?" I fist my hands in my pockets, my dick still swelling, my blood feeling impossibly warm. "That what we did is messed up?"

"It was completely messed up." His voice hardens. "And it's, yes, it's going to fuck up our friendship. But I can't lie, Reed. I respect her too much."

I hesitate. I've been thinking about this non-stop for the last few days, and I don't know what the right answer is, but I keep returning to the same thought. "Are you sure that's the right thing?"

"You think we should lie?" His light swings up to my chin. "That you should just keep dating her? And we should what? Pretend like it didn't happen?"

"No." I shake my head sharply. "Look, I care about her. Things aren't going to work out between me and her romantically, and I'm going to tell her that when she gets back, but telling her about that kiss… why ?"

His lips press. "Because honesty matters."

"We fucked up." I try to relax my shoulders, but it's not working. "But it's not going to happen again. And there's no reason to blow everything up. What if you were her? Would you want to know?"

He hesitates. "I'd want the truth."

"Even if it doesn't matter ?" I roll my shoulders. "The only thing that telling her does is satisfy your own conscience about being ‘honest'."

He straightens. "That's not the only reason I want to tell her."

"Are you sure?"

He stares me down, his eyes dark, his chin tipped up to look at me. "I don't want my friendship with her to be based on a lie."

"It's not ." I blow out a breath. "And what about Jamie?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, you've had to notice how your brother looks at her." I shake my head. It's been really fucking obvious. And probably another clue that I should have realized earlier because it didn't make me jealous at all . "I have no idea what I'd think in his situation, but it feels like this whole film is reliant on the three of you— together . Telling her about that kiss is going to fuck everything."

He lifts slightly up onto his toes. "Integrity is not just a hypothetical. I lived the first part of my life not being true to the people around me, and I won't do it again." His light falls to my stomach. "I don't expect you to understand, Reed. I don't expect you to agree. But I can't hide from her. I want to live my life out there. I want to live honestly."

I stare at him, my stomach starting to churn, heat rising in my throat. I don't know where it's coming from, but it feels like it's been there for so long, tucked deep inside, and for the first time, it's bubbling up, swimming to the surface. I don't know if I can swallow it back. I don't know if I can keep it from spreading across my face.

"I hear your argument," he continues. "I'm reflecting on what you're saying. But deep in my gut, I believe that we need to tell her. We need to put it out there, and then deal with whatever happens next."

I blink back the heat, glad for the darkness. "I don't know." My voice shakes, and I roll my shoulders. I try to pull that control over myself. The kind that I've always held onto, but it feels like it's ebbing away. "It's more complex than that. We need to be aware of how we touch other people. The answers aren't always so clear."

"I know the answers aren't clear," he says quietly. "And that kiss was…"

His words vanish into the dark.

I swallow hard. Was what?

My heart's thudding, too fucking loud. Too fucking insistent. What if it was the same for him?

What then ?

"Lennox…" There's other shit I want to say, but I don't know how to put it into words. So much is trapped inside me. Trying to claw its way out. I don't know why I keep holding it back.

"Yeah?" He prods after a few seconds.

My spine is ramrod straight, my mouth dry. And I'm just so tired . I'm so tired of being so alone in my head. I'm so tired of… "It was the first time I kissed a man."

The words spew out, just like Lennox's name when Colin asked me. Like the truth can't hold itself back anymore. Like all my control is pulling and pulling on this rubber band that's close to snapping.

He doesn't react. I don't know what I expected him to do, but he just stands there, his flashlight on my chest.

I flip my hat for what feels like the millionth time in two days, tugging my brim down over my eyes. I lick my lips. I shake out my fingers. I silently curse my swollen dick. I don't know how much he can see me.

But he watches me, like he knows exactly why I do all that.

He pulls in a slow breath. "And how do you feel about that?"

"Shit." My voice cuts, my jaw locking. "Am I actually supposed to know the answer to that?"

"No. Not necessarily."

I pause. I just… fuck .

" Fuck," I mumble. I'm so fucking lost. And it occurs to me, for the first time, that maybe I'm scared too. Maybe I'm scared of being lost and confused. In all my chaotic thoughts, I keep thinking about things from years ago. My brother. My struggle to live in that house. Things that I usually don't think about anymore. That I don't need to think about.

I don't know why it's all coming up.

"You can say anything to me," he says quietly. "I know we haven't known each other that long, but it feels like we have some kind of honesty between us. I don't know if you feel that, but?—"

"I don't want you to think I'm some bigoted homophobic asshole," I blurt. "That's not it."

"I didn't think that."

"It's just… fuck ." Frustration circles in my head. I reach up to scrub off my hat and then stop myself, because it's ridiculous to keep doing that. "It's like my life is rearranging, and I don't know where it's going. Or what it's doing. Or what I'm supposed to be doing. I just know…" Fuck, it's just coming out. "I liked kissing you. I really fucking liked it. And I don't know what to do about that now. I'm just… I'm not ready. Not that you would even care if I was." I grit my teeth. What am I saying? "This shit is confusing, and I'm just so tired of thinking about it. And I'm tired of being confused. And I don't understand why it has to be confusing."

I shove my hands into my pockets. I don't know what else to say, what to think, what to feel. I don't know if the word salad I just spit out makes any sense.

"There's nothing wrong with being confused." His eyes are steady, catching mine. He doesn't try to close the distance. He just stands there, looking at me.

My entire body is vibrating, but he seems so still. So fucking solid. So there . Why does he feel so real to me? What is it that makes him more real than other people? That makes me so aware of not just who he is, but his body, the way he stands, the glimpse of light blue paint on his thumbnail, the way his words impact me, the way my dick is half-hard even though I'm confused and lost and fighting to make sense of anything.

He tilts his head. "You don't have to push yourself to know anything."

"Are you sure?" I bite out. "That's not how it seems."

"Honestly?" His eyes narrow, but it doesn't feel like they're narrowing at me . "Being confused is how we know we're going somewhere."

"But where the fuck am I going ?" My words come out sharp and loud, echoing in the stairwell, and I flinch, but he just keeps standing there, looking at me steadily. I think he's giving me so much grace right now, and I don't deserve it. I don't deserve anything from him.

He frowns. "Being confused is proof that we're learning and living and changing and not just standing in the same spot doing nothing."

Over the last two days, no one looked at me like he's looking at me now. Colin and I talked, but it wasn't the same. No one ever looks at me the way Lennox does. With all that focus, like he sees me.

"I think we should all be confused more," he continues. "I think we should fucking normalize it. That we should appreciate it." He pauses. "I don't want to live my life stuck in the same spot where I never feel confused, never grow, never discover something new. Being confused shows character and intelligence and reflection and a willingness to change. I think it shows the person you really are, Reed."

I stare back at him, jaw twitching, fingers clenched. He's three steps away, and I picture myself taking those steps, one at a time, down to him. I picture stopping on the step just above him and pulling my hand out of my pocket. Unclenching my fist and setting my palm on his neck. Kissing him, gripping his neck, inhaling the way he smells, the way he'd feel as I backed him up against the stairway wall.

I'm fucking throbbing. Not just physically. It's something deeper, something intangible that I don't know how to express. It's the way he is. How he moves through life. How he pushes me. How I want him to see… what? Who I am?

Who the fuck is that?

A guy who's into men? Yes . I'm into him .

Jesus, so fucking much. It's all I can think about, forcing my feet not to move, my hands to stay deep in my pockets.

You can't, Reed .

It's not right. It's not right because of Indy. It's not right because I'm still so fucking confused. It's not right because I'm genuinely not ready for what kissing him again would mean.

"Can I ask you something?"

I blink back into reality with his question.

His voice has softened, and I nod in response. If I opened my mouth, I don't know what I'd say. All my truths could spill out at his feet. He's still Indy's friend .

And I can't be that guy.

Besides, it was just a kiss. A revelation to me, a fucking cataclysm of upheaval, but who knows what it was to him. Probably just a mistake .

"Not wanting to tell Indy about the kiss," he continues. "Does it have anything to do with what you just told me? Do you not want to talk about it?"

"No, that's not…" Fuck .

It's not something that occurred to me directly, but when I think about telling Indy, my stomach tightens. It's not just the thought of ending our situationship, or whatever it is. It's something deeper. Something that makes my fingers twitch. My fear spikes.

Who am I supposed to be?

"I don't fucking know," I say, my frustration burning out. My shoulders are so tight that a tendon is twitching in my neck.

How do I be myself when I don't even know who that is ? How do I put it into words?

"I won't out you," he says, lowering the rings of his flashlight to his feet.

I blow out a breath. Is it relief? I'm not sure. I'm too twisted up to be sure of anything.

"I just need more time," I say. "I don't know what for. I just need it."

"I get that," he says, the faint roughness of his voice so soothing. "It makes sense."

"Does it?"

"Yeah."

How can I be so fucking tense and want to pull him against me at the same time?

"I'd never push you to come out," he continues. " Never . I think you should talk to her. If you're not feeling things with her, then you should end it. But you don't need to come out to anyone unless you're ready."

I swallow thickly. "When will I be ready?"

"I don't know." His face is shadowed, his light circling his shoes on the stairs, the depth of the basement behind him. "No one gets to decide that except for you."

I bite on my molars. "I kind of wish someone would just tell me what to do."

" You'll tell you," he says. "Don't worry about figuring it all out today. You don't have to."

Is that true?

I don't know what I'm supposed to do now.

I do know that I've fucked everything up. And I need to sort it out, somehow. Talking to Indy is the first step. And then I need to work on sorting out myself. And Lennox…

Fuck . I'm so lost.

I motion past him. "I suppose we should get going. Down into the murder basement."

"Alright." The toes of his shoes press into the stairs as turns. "I guess we're as ready as we'll ever be."

I pause before following, my eyes stuck to his back. I wish that I could see more of him. That I was close enough to smell him. To?—

"Did you like it?" My voice cracks, my heart thuds. It's a question I shouldn't be asking. But damn, I need to know .

He twists back, blinking into my light.

"Did you like kissing me?" I ask. My throat is closing, that vibration swelling again. "Was it…"

Fuck, fuck. What am I doing? What am I?—

"I loved it, Reed." And then he turns and heads down the stairs.