Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CARTER

Something about last night doesn't sit well with me. For the life of me I can't figure out why someone would break Brendon's side mirror. I mean it very well could have been an accident but that doesn't feel right.

Needing to get my mind off of everything, I texted Sasha and asked if we could meet up for a dance lesson today. Thankfully, he was free and fully on board. It's been far too long since I've let loose and danced, and I'm still trying to master a few skills that seem to be just outside of my grasp. Hopefully, with Sasha's help tonight, I can fine-tune things better.

"Hey, handsome, ready to get sweaty?" Sasha asks as we get out of our cars at the same time, waggling his brows at me and making me laugh.

I can't help but notice that even though I now know I'm bisexual, I still don't have any attraction to Sasha. Everything I feel for him is solely platonic, and his flirting does absolutely nothing for me.

"I was born ready," I reply with a wink, and Sasha fakes a swoon before pulling me in for a hug.

"I still can't believe all this time I could have had a chance with you and didn't know," he teases, trying to sound devastated, but there is a hint of laughter behind his words.

I give his shoulder a playful shrug. "You're ridiculous. Stop acting like you aren't madly and deeply in love, and tell me what we're working on today."

Sasha chuckles and sticks his tongue out at me. "You're no fun. I was really hoping you'd buy my act."

I laugh along with him. "Maybe I would have if we weren't both in happy relationships with men we adore."

Sasha nods. "Yeah, that does make sense. How are things going with Brendon?" he asks, letting us into the dance studio.

"Amazing," I respond in a dreamy tone.

"You've got it bad, don't you?"

"I do. He's my person," I tell him with a big grin.

"I'm so happy for you. Now let's get to work," he says, turning on the lights and setting up his speaker. "Be prepared to have legs like Jell-O tomorrow."

After having him as a dance teacher for almost four years, I know he isn't joking. Sasha is fun and flirty, but he can also be a bit of a drill sergeant—although I love that about him.

Sasha is so passionate about dance, and he's drilled the love into me. When I first started learning ballet, it was to make me a better basketball player. Eventually, I was no longer doing it to make myself better on the court; I was doing it because I love to dance. I love the challenge of learning new skills and working my ass off to master them. Even though Sasha and I don't meet up regularly anymore, I still try to dance on my own when I have the time. But I'll admit it is more fun with my friend by my side, pushing me to be my best.

Music fills the space, and Sasha walks me through a warmup exercise.

I allow myself to get lost in the movements and let the outside world disappear for the time being. Dance and basketball are the two things that allow me to completely center myself and forget about my worries. It's one of the only times my head is completely clear of anything except what I'm doing. My anxiety doesn't seem to exist either, which is rare for me.

Time flies by as I follow Sasha's instructions and before I know it, an hour has passed and our session is over.

I wipe the sweat from my brow and my bare chest, and Sasha does the same.

"You clearly have been practicing at home," Sasha notes before taking a guzzle of water from his bottle.

"I try to as often as I can, but it can be tricky," I reply, drinking a decent amount of my own water.

"Because you'd rather have sex?" he checks, making me spit out a mouthful of water.

I laugh along with Sasha as I wipe my mouth and flip him the bird. "I mean, can you blame me for liking sex?" I question with a raised brow.

He presses his lips together as if to think about it but then quickly shakes his head. "No. I can't blame you. Sex is pretty amazing."

I chuckle and grab my shirt off the floor. "It's even better with the person you're crazy about," I add.

Sasha nods, putting on his own shirt. "I couldn't agree more. We're two lucky guys to have found men who care about us and love us unconditionally."

I smile at him, and my heart fills with warmth. Brendon really does love me unconditionally. It's something that is undeniable. He'd do anything for me, and me for him.

Brendon holds my heart, and I know that he will never break it.

I follow Sasha out of the building to our cars that are parked side by side, but before I get behind the wheel I notice a note under my wiper.

"What's that?" Sasha checks, and I shrug before opening it.

Stay away from him!

I stare at the words, reading them over and over again, trying to figure out just what the fuck they mean.

"Do you have someone who is secretly in love with you and doesn't know about Rio?" I ask Sasha, showing him the note.

He frowns, shaking his head. "Not that I know about. Our relationship is pretty public, so you'd think most people would know I'm locked down."

"Do you think it's a friend of Rio's who thinks you're having an affair?" I check.

I didn't see anyone in the parking lot when we got here, but maybe they had seen us hugging and jumped to the wrong conclusion.

"I don't think so, but even if it is, we know the truth. Whoever wrote that note is an idiot and not someone you have to worry about," he assures me, and I nod.

"Yeah, you're right," I reply, crumpling up the note. "Sometimes people are just crazy."

We say our goodbyes with the promise to meet up for dinner on the weekend. Then we both leave to head to our places.

My chest feels tight as I make the drive home, and I can't help but wonder if the note maybe was referring to someone other than Sasha. Maybe the person meant Brendon. But how would they know about us? We've done a pretty good job of keeping our relationship on the down low. And even if they did find out about us, who would want to keep us apart?

My palms are sweaty by the time I pull into my parking spot.

I fucking hate having anxiety sometimes.

I know deep down that this note is not a big deal, and I just have to let this go.

Unfortunately, that's always easier said than done.