Chapter 12

Penn

I think I've swallowed my Adam's apple. Together?

Madden's gaze drops to the counter, pointedly not looking at us after apparently putting his foot in it, and I shoot Lana a what the fuck look, and she shoots back a don't ask me I'm covering for you here one .

And she is. Big-time. Because if I'm dating her, then I'm not dating one of the faceless women from Madden's list . Way to make me feel like I'm in an episode of The Bachelor .

Only I'm not rich, I'm not handsome, and I definitely don't have a multimillion-dollar mansion to whisk someone away to.

It's just me. Holding the hand of a lesbian on one side and a gay man on the other, stuck between the two of them, who are waiting for me to give clarity to a situation that's muddy as fuck.

Madden's blue eyes flick up to meet mine. "You didn't tell me. "

Urg, right to the heart. Keeping secrets from Madden is impossible, and he knows I never could, but at the same time, Lana's giving me a cover. Even if we only pretend for a week or so, it'll give me time to work out if I'm interested in these dates Madden's sprung on me or not.

I step closer to Lana, dropping Madden's hand. "We only just …" What's the word people use? Agreed? Sounds contractual. Committed? Way too serious for where we're at.

"Decided to see where this goes," Lana finishes seamlessly. "Oh. Look. We're already finishing each other's sentences. That's cute."

"So cute."

"Yeah." Madden's smile is strained. "Cute."

"But now that you know, I'm going to head off and leave you two to … best friend stuff. Have fun, boys. Don't do anything I wouldn't do and all that."

"How would I know what you wouldn't do when I don't even know you?" Madden's response catches me by surprise.

"Ah, I'll walk you out," I tell Lana, jabbing her in the back to move faster. As soon as we're in the hall and I've closed the door behind us, I mime screaming into my hand.

"What have I done?"

"Relax." Her dimples are out in force. "We'll pretend to date for a few weeks and break up. I'll tell him you turned me gay."

I glare at her. "Isn't that a harmful stereotype?"

"Considering how uptight you are, I think he'll believe me."

I let the comment go. "I hate lying to him."

"I figured, but you also looked like you were going to pass out in there. He's … pushy."

"He's not."

"He was . "

She's right. I lean back against the wall. "He's not normally like that."

"You also said he's not normally rude and doesn't usually stalk you, but he was rude to me again, and I'd bet my phone he has his ear pressed to the door."

I swing around to look at it, hoping like fucking hell she's wrong. "He's just … off his game. At the moment. It's not his fault our relationship"—I use air quotes—"caught him by surprise."

"He was rude to me before that."

"You were also screaming at him for being naked."

Lana laughs. "Oh, the memories."

"Good times," I respond dryly.

"It's great of you to be so loyal, but I'm sorry. Madden is either a rude bastard, or he's totally into you and all this weirdness is straight-up jealousy."

"You don't understand. We're really close."

"The man is naked in your apartment right now. There's a very easy way for you to figure out which of us is right."

"What do you mean?"

Lana looks at me like I'm missing a few brain cells. "Accidentally brush up against him. Touch his neck, slap his ass, whatever it is you dudes do to rile each other up. See if he pops some wood."

"I'm straight."

"Okay, sweet pea."

I don't like her tone. "You want me to try and turn my best friend on. That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard."

Lana throws up her hands. "I don't know. I don't know how to be gay. Or straight, for that matter. I'm still learning it all, but I do know that if I was attracted to someone and they were paying me attention, there'd be signs. I wouldn't be pitching a flag post like you men folk do, but it would be obvious. "

"It's a terrible idea."

"Of course it is—it came from me—but I think you owe it to yourself to know. If you're straight and he's into you, that's a crummy position for you both. Ignoring it will only make things worse when it inevitably comes out."

"And, uh, why would that be inevitable?" Maybe it makes me selfish, but I want things to stay the way they are between us. We could spend more time together, obviously, but our dynamic is perfect.

Lana sighs and squeezes my arm. "Because loving someone who doesn't love you back is the hardest fucking thing in the world to go through. It tears your heart into itty-bitty shreds. You don't want to tear his heart into itty-bitty shreds, do you?" She gives me a soft smile. "Good luck."

I can't reply as I watch her walk up the hall.

The idea of Madden being into me is a joke. We're comfortable together. Fit together seamlessly. I don't think we've ever had an argument or gone for long stretches without seeing each other. I need Madden. When I think of what a perfect day looks like, he's always there.

Madden's mine, and I wouldn't do anything that would risk losing him.

But if his heart is shredding ?

I don't buy into him having feelings for me, because it's Madden, and if that's the case, then her little suggestion wouldn't hurt.

Madden will probably think I'm having some kind of episode, but once I'm done proving myself right, I'll be able to relax again. I can fake date Lana, and nothing between me and Madden will change.

I take a deep breath and go back inside. The first thing I notice is that Madden's clothes aren't hanging where they normally are. He's sitting on my couch, fully dressed, remote in hand as he flicks through the channels .

"Ordered Mexican. Hope that's okay."

"Your comfort food."

He doesn't answer me.

I join him on the couch and tug the side of his shorts. "What's all this?"

"Wasn't sure if I should …"

The uncertainty breaks me. I grab his shirt and pull it up, giving him a second to raise his arms and help me. Once it's off, I press it to his chest and say, "You always should. I'm sorry I didn't say something before, but it was a first for us. You know I see this place as yours too, and I never want you to be uncomfortable."

"And … Lana?"

"If she has an issue with it, I'll go to her place to hang out."

His eyes search mine. "I'm okay with wearing clothes. Really."

"You hate them. So, no. Please stop second-guessing and get naked already."

He pumps his eyebrows at me. "Wanna strip me off?"

I laugh with relief at his playfulness coming back. "Sorry I didn't pick up any dollar bills on the way home. I didn't realize I'd be getting a strip show."

Madden, being the idiot he is, stands up and ba-da-bum-bums his way through a beat as he pushes his shorts off his ass. I watch as the material slides over his beefy thighs, then drops once it reaches his knees. He has nice knees. Strong ones. And very round calves. We used to run laps in college, and I couldn't keep up with him.

Madden's makeshift music stops, and I blink out of my memories as he scoops his shorts from the floor.

Then he drops his briefs.

No strip show this time, just a quick removal before he walks down the hall toward the front door. I watch him the entire way, gaze dropping onto his ass.

Madden is all muscle. I know he's all muscle. I know he's got a great ass because I see it every other day. He turns before I can look away, and instead of his ass, I'm staring at his dick. His pubes are trimmed, and he's hanging soft and thick between his legs. Looking at Madden's dick is something I actively avoid, so I've never really seen it in this much detail before. Considering he's completely soft, he's a good size, and I wonder if it stays around that as it gets hard or if it turns into a fucking monster.

My tongue grazes my dry lips.

Lana wants me to get that thing hard.

My best friend's dick.

As in the dick attached to Madden .

Something stirs deep in my gut as Madden leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms.

Damn, he's got some biceps.

"You okay?"

Fuck. Am I? I'm currently thinking about whether or not I can turn a man on and what that would mean for us, and my face has gone all hot at the thought. "Yeah. Just hungry."

He moans, and in something that I swear is from straight-up porn, he runs his fingers over his abs. "Me too. Skipped lunch. Worked up a real appetite." His tone is completely normal, but my brain twists it.

"Let's hope food is fast, then," I say, forcing my gaze to the TV.

But as soon as my Madden focus is broken, I realize something I hadn't before.

I'd been so focused on what it would mean if I made Madden hard that I hadn't considered one thing.

What the fuck does it mean that I've gotten hard instead?