Chapter 15

I can't fucking believe I let Beau bully me into this. I can't believe I let myself become so exposed.

He flops back against the couch, his expression the epitome of shock. His mouth hangs open as he stares at me like I'm a stranger. And in some ways, I suppose that's true. There's been a big part of myself that I've never shared with him before, a part I've always kept secret.

"High school?" His voice squeaks a little.

"Yeah, since fucking high school."

"Why… but why didn't you ever say anything?"

I throw my hands in the air. "Because you're not fucking gay, Beau!" Does he seriously need reminding? "And our friendship is too important for me to go around confessing shit like this. What would you have done? Pat me on my back and then pretend nothing happened? Pull out your dick so I could practice my blowjob skills?"

"Jesus, G." He runs a hand over his face, and yeah, maybe I'm being vulgar, but I'm also right and he knows it. "I don't know what I would've done, okay? I'd like to think that I would've been…"

"Been what?" I spit out.

"I don't know. Kind, or something." He looks at me and there's something in his eyes that takes all the wind out of my sails. It's regret, guilt, worry. "I hate that you've had to hide how you feel for a fucking decade and I had absolutely no idea. I hate that you had to watch me…" He waves a hand toward the window, in the general direction of Georgia and Lucy.

I go to him because that's what I do. I run away, and then I run back. Always. Forever. I sit down on the couch, careful to leave space between us, praying to god that he doesn't try to touch me again. I won't be able to resist it.

"You don't have to feel bad," I say. "You didn't know and that was the whole point. I didn't want you to know."

"It couldn't have been easy, though." His hand slides onto the seat cushion between us.

"It wasn't." I keep my hands tightly clasped in my lap. "But I survived."

Beau lets out an unimpressed sound. "Survived? That's a low bar."

"Yeah, well…" It wasn't as if I didn't try to get over Beau. I dated other men. I moved halfway across the country. But I kept coming back. I couldn't stay away.

Several beats pass in silence—empty, numb silence. I'm afraid to breathe, afraid to move. I don't know what comes next, what will happen to us now. I don't know if I'll be able to go on if our friendship falls apart.

"I'm not gay, but…"

My breath catches in my chest. What is he doing? What is he saying? "Beau," I try to warn him off before he says something he can't take back.

"No, don't try to stop me, G. I'm not gay—I know that much. But that doesn't mean I'm entirely straight either. I mean, I'm mostly straight. I've never thought about being anything other than straight. But I felt something. That day on the couch, after the movie? And just now, in the kitchen."

He turns sideways on the couch and grabs my hand in one of his. "Gavin, I don't know what this is, but I feel something… physically… for you."

I squeeze my eyes shut, torn between sobbing out loud and manic, hysterical laughter. The sound that escapes my throat is some twisted mix of the two.

"I'm serious. You don't believe me?" His hand tightens on my own.

I try to tell him that I believe him, but my lungs are seizing and all I can do is gasp.

"Feel this." He takes my hand and drags it into his lap and?—

Oh my fucking god, he's hard. My fingers curl around his length involuntarily—hello, I'm gay—and Beau jolts under my touch.

My eyes fly open and I gape at the scene in front of me. I'm groping Beau, my straight best friend, and he's not only hard but getting harder by the second. His eyes have glazed over with lust and he's panting through his mouth like he's on the brink of coming.

"Gavin?"

My resolve snaps at the way he says my name. The innocence, the confusion, the hunger. He needs me—Beau needs me—and I will never leave him hanging.