Chapter Ten

"You look nervous," Louis says.

I'm antsy, though doing my best not to fidget. My new prosthetic arrived only a day before Mark's birthday party, so I haven't had the chance to get completely comfortable with it. It's the exact same as the last one that snapped, but in a short two weeks, I grew accustomed to the crutches.

I glance at Louis, who's standing next to me in the living room. We arrived together, and Louis is dressed nicely. I've thought about what Tommy told me, though haven't drudged up the courage to ask Louis for any details. He sips from a clear plastic cup and regards me with his wide, innocent eyes. "Do you want to leave?" Louis asks when I'm slow to answer.

"No," I say. "I'm just looking around. I don't see Mark."

Truthfully, I'm nervous because a lot of guys that are friends with Mark and not on friendly terms with me are eyeing me up. Their attention is very focused. Nerve-wracking. It's making me hyper-aware of how I'm standing. Ugh. I rub the back of my neck and sip my drink—alcohol-free beer. I'll need to be dead-steady on my feet before I'll brave drinking alcohol out somewhere.

"Oh." I spy a familiar face. "Bethany has Eddie cornered. See?"

Louis follows my gaze. "She does! Why's she doing that?"

It looks like an interrogation to me. But like Bethany is doing the interrogating. Which means I don't need to approach them, right? It would be nice if she kept him over there for the entire night.

"When is Tommy coming?" Louis asks.

"Soon as his shift at work finishes up," I reply. "It should be—"

"Kyle!"

A warm hand presses to my back as I turn, and Mark's spicy cologne fills my nose. His tall frame is at my back, and as I meet his gaze, he has an expression of pleasant surprise.

"Hi," I say. Yes! There are witnesses but I say it normally! I even smile at him. He rubs the back of his neck and grins down at me.

"I didn't know you were coming," he says. For some reason, and I really can't guess why, he seems embarrassed. But not a bad embarrassment—he's smiling too, so it's more bashful than oh god, why is this guy here? At least I think so anyway.

"Eddie invited me," I say.

Mark's eyebrows shoot up. "He did?"

"He didn't look happy about it."

"Did he apologise?" Mark asks.

"Apologise?"

Mark glances across the room, casting Eddie—still cornered by Bethany—a narrow-eyed look. "He said that he would."

"For what?"

"For being a dick to you."

"Cause I've always been such a positive presence in his life…" I sip my drink.

Mark grunts, noncommittal.

"Hi, Mark," Louis says. "Happy birthday."

"Louis." Mark nods at him.

I'm not upset by Louis and Mark hooking up in the past—I'm not stupid. Me having a crush on Mark didn't have any effect on his romantic pursuits. However, now that I know about it, I can't help but think about how they might be thinking about it… Louis's gaze does seem to be lingering on Mark, after all. Hasn't it always, now that I think about it? It's a stupid, ungrounded thought. How would I know where Louis was looking? I'm always too busy checking out Mark and pretending not to.

"Enjoying yourselves?" Mark swaps the hand on my back over, and steps so that he's standing between me and Louis. I frown at the manoeuvre. Especially when I see that Louis notices the move, and Louis doesn't tend to notice subtle things. Which means getting closer to Louis wasn't subtle…hang on.

Mark's gaze darts down to my left leg—the one he's now standing next to—as Louis answers him, and he adjusts his position several times. Eventually, Louis has to take a step back after Mark's shuffling knocks into his drink, at which point Mark goes still with a satisfied expression.

Unless my eyes aren't working right, Mark just inserted himself at my left side to make Louis step back from my prosthetic leg. Or was he just moving closer to Louis? I frown. Which is it? Is Mark interested in me, or not? Maybe it's a general interest? Like, he got turned on in the apartment because of the heat of the moment, and not because of genuine interest?

Hm. Wondering to myself won't answer my questions.

I tune back in as Louis leaves, heading toward the drinks table to get Mark a promised birthday drink. Mark leans over to me. He talked loudly to be heard over the music with Louis, but he drops his voice down and speaks close to my ear to be heard.

"If that's not the replacement and you're just balancing here with your crutches in the coat closet…Kyle, I'm going to be mad," Mark says, his voice rumbling right against my ear.

I grin. Okay, he definitely moved to my left side because of me, not Louis. That also explains why his hand is solidly placed against my lower back.

"Crutches aren't cool, Mark. I can just lean against the wall if I lose my balance."

Mark curses. He straightens abruptly, his eyes dark and furious as he pulls back enough to meet my eyes. He's full-on scowling. "That is beyond —" he stops mid-sentence. The scowl eases to a narrow-eyed look, like the one he directed at Eddie earlier. "You're screwing with me," he says.

"Yeah."

"You're going to be mean to me on my birthday?"

"When am I ever not mean to you?"

"You were pretty sweet the other day," Mark remarks wryly.

My body gets hot, and my jaw tightens as a normal reply is stunted.

Mark lifts his hands into a submissive gesture, eyeing me warily. "Don't cuss me out. I'll go say hi to a few people and be back once you're not irritated with me." He retreats quickly, depriving me of the chance to start a fight. I rub my jaw, watching his retreating back, and my muscles slowly unclench. I take a sip of my drink and am grateful for Mark's timely retreat. The night would have ended early, otherwise.

Louis returns with two drinks. He sees me alone and frowns. "Mark left?"

"He's making the rounds." I gesture to him across the room. He's being greeted warmly by several men and women, clapping him on the back, hugging him, enthusiastically launching into his arms. Luckily for the launchees, Mark's strong, and there's no danger of anyone hitting the deck. Every few seconds his dark eyes move towards me and Louis, like he can't help but keep looking at us.

"Oh, well," Louis says. He turns back to me with a grin. "I'll talk to him more later. I'm glad you didn't pick a fight with him, Kyle. His friends…even if I have your back, we're outnumbered." He glances across the room at the group of guys still casting me dirty looks. He smiles and waves at them, noticing that they're looking. I know he's oblivious to their dirty looks, but I'm pretty sure they think he's provoking them. It's three guys from the rowing team. I may have tipped Mark, and therefore all of them, overboard. Once or twice. Several times. All year round until I was kicked out of the club. I haven't held a grudge. Mark had always gotten me back, after all, so I'd considered our foray in the rowing club a draw in our ongoing war.

"Thanks, Louis," I say, grateful and touched that Louis considers himself on my side. We are the only two in accounting modules, and I've missed his sunny disposition these past few weeks.

"Why don't they like you?" Louis asks, finally realising they're glaring at me. Louis had never been in the rowing club, so he hadn't taken part in the antics.

"I was in the rowing club with them," I say.

"And?"

"And they were in a boat with Mark."

"And?"

"And Kyle tried to drown us all," Mark says. "Several times."

He steps in, displacing Louis a few inches to stand to my left. "Is this one mine?"

"Yes," Louis offers Mark the drink, visibly pleased.

"Rowing was a draw," I say. "You got me back."

"Hardly," Mark snorts. "I didn't go out on the river once without ending up swimming, thanks to you."

"I was the same!"

"I didn't even know how to swim before that club," Mark says with the air of someone who has been wronged. He has, but that's not the point.

"Yes you did," I argue. "You could swim. You could swim better than me!"

"That's beside the point."

I would have argued more, but Mark looks terribly amused. Instead, I fix a cold look on him. "You did look pathetic splashing around in the river." It's a blatant lie. Mark, soaked in river water, weighing down his curls, wetting his clothes so they clung to him like a second skin? Literal heaven.

A muscle in Mark's jaw tightens. He stares down at me, eyes black, and his hand creeps up my spine. I can't break eye contact. Mark apparently can. His gaze dips down to my mouth, where it lingers, and that muscle in his jaw ticks again. He looks away with a jerk.

I'm hot. Attracted. And usually when I feel like this, I act stupid. Like, ram my canoe into Mark's and douse him in river water, kind of stupid. Retreat never factors into my decisions when it comes to Mark; it's always engage. And engage in the most antagonising way possible.

"Go on, then," Mark says, his voice gravelly. His gaze flits back to meet mine. "Curse at me, antagonise me…get it out of your system."

I experience a shot of clarity. It occurs to me that Mark is fully aware I like him, and that I lash out when I'm shy. "You asked me not to be mean. It being your birthday, and all, I'll do my best not to be," I say. Holy crap, I did it .

Mark stares at me as if he has to decode what I've said. He blinks several times, then leans in to speak against my ear. It cuts Louis, who has been watching with worried confusion, out of the conversation.

The hand on my spine creeps up to grasp the back of my neck. The way Mark leans forward hides his actions from the rest of the room. I grunt in surprise and do my best not to groan aloud as my cock gives a firm twitch. "Mark," I grumble, instinctively grabbing his arm.

"I swear to god, Kyle, whenever you open your pretty mouth, you drive me insane," Mark murmurs against my ear. His fingers wind tightly through the hair at my nape.

"Pretty?"

Mark growls. "You know you're stupidly attractive—"

"Now, now," Tommy interrupts loudly. His large hand plants itself on my shoulder, and the other lands on Marks. "That is a very aggressive grip you've got on my friend, Mark." On the surface, Tommy's voice is friendly. His rigid body and glare shouts that he's about to plough into Mark.

Mark pulls back. Or, more accurately, Tommy pushes him away, and Mark glowers.

I see Eddie approaching, and three angry rowing members bringing up the rear.

Tommy has one hand planted on my shoulder, and Mark's grip slips from hair-tangling to shoulder pressure. He's tugging me toward him, away from Tommy. I look between the two of them, bewildered. In the years of fighting between me and Mark, I've never seen Tommy actually angry . With anyone. He's always had my back, sure, but he never started anything. Not ever.

"Let go of him," Tommy says. He drops the friendly act.

Mark's grip tightens. " You let go."

I have the distinct thought that they're both being stupid. I nudge their hands. "Stop that," I say, vexed. I worry that there's a fight coming, and my self-preservation is kicking in. The swelling on my leg has only just gone down, but if someone takes a swing at Tommy—and I see several people more than ready to do just that—I'm going to have his back. It'll most definitely end badly for me.

Mark releases my shoulder when I say. Tommy doesn't.

Mark bristles, glaring at Tommy's hand. "He said let go."

I worry now that Mark is going to take a swing.

"What's going on?" Eddie's voice booms, cutting into the stand-off. I'm aware of Louis sidling up close. He glances apprehensively at the group facing us but remains steadfast at my side. Given that Louis is on the shorter side, and I'm much slighter than I was before, only Tommy matches the size of the opposing group. In fact, he has an edge over them, but he doesn't have an edge against five guys. I'm not even sure who would win if only Mark and Tommy grappled. I don't want to find out.

Nobody speaks. My brain doesn't pick a fight—I guess deep down I know better than to sabotage myself when I really will suffer consequences for it.

Eddie looks at Mark for an answer, who continues to glare at Tommy like he'll murder him. Tommy glares back while holding me by the shoulder. I'm starting to feel like I'm a kid that's scruffed by a parent. Eddie's gaze finally lands on me, an absolute knowing in his eyes. He has no doubt that I began the fight, even though, this once, I don't think I am responsible. But I can't stand being the centre of Eddie's attention; goosebumps prickle up my arms. I don't even want to fight; I want to flee as quick as I can.

"I'm going," I say.

Mark jolts, his gaze jerking to me. "What? No."

I bat away his reaching hand. I'm grateful when nobody blocks my leaving, and I only pause to make sure Tommy is following suit and not staying to get beaten up.

It's drizzling outside and I'm careful walking down the stairs winding to the ground floor. The stairwell is covered from above, but mist blowing in at an angle has left the steps slick. Stairs really are the worst. I hold the handrail, taking my time, and Tommy walks silently beside me, keeping my slow pace.

"You shouldn't ask him out," Tommy snaps.

I jump at his raised voice. "What?"

Tommy is glowering at the air in front of him. "Possessive—I can just about forgive. Aggressive? And with you ? Forget it." He's practically spitting.

The outburst surprises me. Tommy is the guy I've been closest to for years, and I think I'm his closest friend too, but our comradery has been more of the back-me-up kind, with no over-protective flavours.

"Is this about my leg?" I realised after lunch the other day that I accidentally implied my injury without outright telling Tommy. I'm now certain, based on his behaviour, that he's figured out the rest.

Tommy's jaw tightens. "Even if you weren't—even if you hadn't—I would still have!" He sniffles and wipes aggressively at his cheeks.

"I'm alright, Tommy," I say, heart squeezing in my chest to see him upset. "I appreciate you looking out for me, but I don't appreciate you interrupting Mark telling me I'm attractive."

"Who cares what he said? He's a no-good, possessive, aggressive, little shit," Tommy says.

While I admit Mark had grabbed my hair, it hadn't been aggressive. Or maybe it had been, and I was just too turned on by the gesture to register it the way Tommy had? I hum.

"Promise me you won't ask him out."

"I'm not promising that," I reply immediately. If I ever work up the courage, I'm doing it.

"It's not just that," Tommy adds after a pause of silence. He looks at me, hesitating, before he continues. "You and Eddie—"

"What about me and Eddie?" I interrupt, sharp.

" That , Kyle. That you and Eddie. Mark's the one you like, yet you react way worse to him when Eddie's there." Tommy stops at the bottom of the steps, waiting for me to catch up with my slower pace. "Mark, I can see that you're shy. With Eddie, it's like you're scared."

"I'm not scared of Eddie," I say. The words stick in my throat, as if I'm telling a big fat lie, but it's true. I'm not scared of Eddie. He just drags out thousands of bad memories whenever I see him. So being around him is like someone's pressing a finger to a raw nerve and I can't help but flail to try to protect myself.

"What did he do?" Tommy asks. His tone is dead certain.

I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to talk about anything like it. It's behind me. I'm over it. "He didn't do anything. We don't get along—but that is obviously because I've always treated him badly, not anything he did."

Tommy looks unconvinced.

"Please, Tommy." I sigh. "Just leave it. We don't get along, that's it. He never did anything to me, I promise."