14. Austin

14

AUSTIN

It's crowded around the bonfire, and there's music piping from someone's phone. I try to ignore that panicky feeling in my gut because I can see the ocean, which reminds me that we're outside and I can escape if I feel overwhelmed.

The beer warms my stomach, and it's exactly what I need. This definitely feels different from being here with Dex as just friends. It's eye-opening how much of a hot mess I'd be on a real date. If Dex hadn't been pretending with me, I might've already been ditched at the restaurant.

Jason approaches as we're enjoying the fire. He's always passing out flyers on campus, and he's super friendly.

He and Dex fist-bump before he turns to me. "Austin, right?"

"Yeah, how did you…?"

"Dex talks about you all the time." That swoopy stomach thing happens again.

"Don't give him a big head." Dex winks.

"As if," I scoff.

Jason snickers. "Hey, if you're interested in doing more outings with the club, we have our color-coded mixer at Love Shack next week."

Love Shack is the local LGBTQ+ club that many on campus frequent.

"Cool, thanks!" Dex replies, and I nod. "We'll think about it."

I watch as Jason is approached by a few others at the party.

"What does that mean—color-coded?" I ask Dex.

"It depends on the event. The party I attended last year was at that Navy SEAL bar during Fleet Week. They handed out stickers to indicate whether you were top, bottom, or vers."

"Oh God." I cover my face with my hands. "I would die announcing that to anyone."

"No you wouldn't." He presses his shoulder against mine. "It's fun and gets conversations going with total strangers. That's the whole point, I suppose."

"Conversations about sex?"

"Sometimes." He averts his eyes as if remembering a particular hookup from the night. "Do you know your preferences yet?"

My face feels hot and not just from the fire. "I think I have a good enough idea."

"Well, now my curiosity is piqued."

"Maybe you'll find out someday." My eyes widen when I realize how that sounds. "I didn't mean?—"

He smirks. "As your date, I'm flattered you've considered the idea."

"What if, as my date, we're not compatible sexually? Doesn't that happen sometimes?"

"It does. Guess it helps that I enjoy topping, but I'm also vers," he says with a wink.

For some reason, this conversation is making my dick plump. Christ. I really am inexperienced and horny. Dex talks about his sex life plenty, but in this context—with Dex referring to an imaginary hookup with me as his date—it not only feels strange but also arousing.

I try for a change of subject. "How come you never told me about the color-coded thing?"

"I don't know. You don't tell me everything either. Dildo Baggins, for example."

"Shut up!" I look around as I shush him. "You know I'm not as comfortable talking openly about that stuff as you are."

"You're right. Sorry." He pulls on my arm. "How about I make it up to you by showing you my dance moves?"

I look over at the students improvising in the sand.

"Uh, that wasn't part of the deal," I point out.

"Our dating parameters weren't that explicit." He pumps his eyebrows. "Come on, it'll give you practice. Just follow my lead."

He steers me toward the others enjoying the emotional ballad, and I don't protest because the truth is, my curiosity is piqued. He takes my hands and places them on his shoulders before winding his own around my waist. My skin prickles as he starts swaying. "See how easy it is? Just move your feet side to side."

Before I know it, I'm slow-dancing with Dex, and all my senses are on overload. Especially when he pulls me closer and I feel his breath against my neck. It dawns on me how hyperaware of him I am tonight. I know he's only playacting, but this feels really fucking intimate to me.

When the song ends, I step back and break our hold. "I think I need some space."

I head toward the water's edge, sucking in fresh air as I go.

Just as I wonder how I'm supposed to explain my behavior to Dex, he appears behind me. "I'm sorry if I did something to upset you."

"You didn't." I sigh. "I just want that with someone so badly that only pretending felt overwhelming."

"I know you do. We don't have to do this anymore."

My heart thumps hard. "What if I like it? Fuck, my emotions are all over the place."

"It's okay. Mind if I hug you?" He holds out his arms, and I step into his embrace even though it was the very reason I needed some space to begin with. Guess I'm a glutton for punishment. Or I just can't pass up being held by a guy, even if he's my best friend. Or maybe I should say, especially when it's my best friend because it always feels nice with him.

We've hugged plenty of times before and have even fallen asleep in the same bed, but with the added tension of the night, it feels too damned good. Between this and the slow-dancing, I'm not sure I can handle much more. But I also know he doesn't really understand that it's his closeness and touch that's sending me over the edge.

He kisses the side of my head. "I was only trying to help you feel more comfortable for when this actually happens."

"But it won't," I say into his shoulder.

"Yes, it will." He rubs my back in soothing circles. "And you'll slay."

I draw away to look at him. "Sorry. I'm thinking about this too hard. Don't give up on me yet."

"Never." He motions down the beach. "Want to take a walk?"

"That sounds perfect."

As we stroll, Dex points out the moon, which leaves a shimmering path in the water. I'm again grateful that he gets me and puts up with my warring emotions. I get frustrated with him when he tries too hard, but no doubt he gets just as exasperated with me. Though he rarely shows it.

It dawns on me that my dream guy would probably be someone like him, but maybe taller and beefier. Or maybe not. Being held by Dex feels totally awesome, so I'm willing to make exceptions or get rid of any preconceived notions about what my type is. Besides, it's more about someone's heart and character traits than their looks. Though physical attraction definitely helps.

"You sure you've never done something like this?" I ask, ignoring the goose bumps lining my skin. "We've already established we don't tell each other everything."

"Something like what?"

"Taken someone to dinner, held their hand during a moonlit walk on the beach."

"We're not holding hands," he points out, and I also recognize how he uses humor as a diversion.

I scoff. "You know what I mean."

"Nope, you're the first," he admits, and I feel a sharp jab in my rib cage. "Just hasn't happened. There's never been anyone I liked enough to want to see again."

"Maybe you're not giving people enough of a chance."

"Doubtful. I'm good at listening to my gut."

When his hand brushes against mine, I shiver.

"Doubtful," I lob back, and he laughs.

Our hands brush again, and then our fingers entwine. I can hardly breathe as my heart performs a stutter step.

"There," Dex says. "Now I can say I've done a moonlit walk while holding someone's hand."

"But it's not real, you asshat."

"Sure it is, even if we're pretending."

He doesn't let go, and neither do I, as we walk a long way down the beach, talking about everything and nothing at all. As we turn to head back, I consider releasing his hand because now it's probably just weird.

Even as I make the motion to break away, Dex tightens his fingers reflexively, and it makes me smile. So he does like this closeness with someone. Or he just feels totally comfortable with his best friend.

By the time we get back to the dorm, it's nearly midnight. We walked, talked, and shared another beer at the bonfire. It was fun, and my stomach is fuzzy warm because it feels like I've accomplished something.

"Thanks again for coming with me," he says in a tentative voice. "I might be wrong, but I think you had a good time?"

I stare at my shoes, unable to meet his eyes. "I did. But I always have fun with you."

"Always? This is only our first date," he teases. "Would you like to go on a second with me?"

"I…I…" I sputter, confusing feelings bombarding me.

He holds up his hands. "Only if you think this helped. I think it did, but I could be wrong."

"Yeah, it did," I admit. "And sure, why not?"

"Great." He grows silent as our eyes meet. The air feels thick as if it really is a first date. He steps forward, and I hold my breath as he leans in to kiss my cheek. "Well, good night."

"Good night." My voice is hoarse, and I watch as he turns toward campus to walk back to Poli House. I lift my hand and press it to where his lips brushed my cheek. As if he'd never done it before. And I pretend it was a real date.