And then my phone dings with a text message, ending the moment.
“Next date, we’re playing video games,” I tell him once we separate. “Where we’ll be safe and I won’t fall and die.”
Brayden’s lips curve into a cocky smile. “Next date, huh?” he taunts. “We haven’t even finished this one.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“Oh, I do,” he says, pulling me onto my feet. “You mean, you’re enjoying this date so much, you’re already planning our next one.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” I pull out my phone to see who texted, and when I see it was Ashton, my heart drops.
Ashy C: We need to talk.
“Everything okay?” Brayden asks, his tone turning serious.
“Yeah, just Ashton.” I push my phone back into my pocket without responding.
Brayden eyes me curiously. “Did he say something that upset you?”
“Nope, just that we need to talk.”
Brayden helps me off the ice and I plop onto the bench, where it’s safe, to rest.
“You and him seem really close,” he says, sitting next to me. He lifts my skate and places it into his lap, then starts undoing the laces.
“Yeah, he’s my best friend.”
“You’re a freshman, right?” he asks. “So, you just met him a few months ago.”
“Yeah, in the beginning of the summer. Some guy was hitting on me and I used Ashton to scare him away.” I laugh, remembering that night. “We hit it off and have been inseparable ever since.” He drops my foot and grabs the other skate. “Speaking of which… What’s up with you and Drew?”
My eyes are on his hands, so I see when they momentarily still. “We were friends, then we weren’t,” he says tightly.
“Oh, c’mon,” I push. “I gave you a deep. Your turn. What happened?”
He drops my now unlaced skate and looks at me. His brown eyes, which moments ago were bright and full of life, are now dark and stormy. “Life,” he says. “Life happened.” The raw emotion that emanates from his tone sends chills up my spine, and I decide not to push him on the subject.
“So, does this date include food?” I ask, changing the subject and hoping to lighten the mood.
“Of course,” he says, his expression softening. “Let’s go grab our shoes and then we can go. Do you like Mexican?”
“Umm, who doesn’t?”
I’m gay.
Gay.
Fucking gay.
So why does sending Mia away feel like the dumbest goddamn thing I’ve ever done in my life? She was so brave. Waltzing right into my room, determined to be an adult about it all.
And me?
I panicked.
Froze up.
Was not prepared to be confronted about my feelings.
Truth is, I don’t know what my feelings are. They’re a mess. I love Mia. As a friend. But that kiss? The annoying niggling I feel when I see her talk to Brayden? It pokes at other parts of my heart. I’m jealous as fuck over Brayden. When I’d found out she bailed on Drew to come to me, possessive pride washed over me.
I’m not a dick. Definitely not to her.
Yet the way I’ve been feeling is right there in Brayden dickhead territory. He probably knows all about feeling like a douchebag over a girl. If I didn’t despise the prick, I’d ask him for advice.
Problem is, he’s the problem.
The guy actively pursuing my girl.
She can’t be my girl, though.
I’m. Fucking. Gay.
Am I bi?
Cringing, I can that idea right away. It’s not girls. It’s Mia. Imagining her naked and beneath me does things to me. Excites unknown areas of me. Opens up dark cavities in my heart that I didn’t know existed.
Am I willing to destroy our friendship to use her to test out new avenues regarding my sexuality?
Absolutely not.
Why?
Because I love her.
Back to square fucking one.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Come in,” I grumble.
“I brought food. Overheard that you were hungry and that Mia was bailing on you,” Drew says as he opens my door. “Hope you like peanut butter and jelly.”
Under any other circumstances, a hot half-naked coach bringing me food in bed would have me giddy and blow-job ready in three seconds.
This isn’t under normal circumstances, though.
I’m in the fucking Twilight Zone.
“You okay?” he asks, approaching the bed, a frown on his handsome face.
“Not really.”
To my surprise, he hands me the plate and sits down on my bed beside me. With our backs against the headboard and legs stretched out in front of us, I eat my sandwich in silence, pouting. When I finish, he lets out a sigh.
“Spill. Your thoughts are loud and you clearly need someone to talk to. I’m here. Ready and waiting.”
I can’t help but glance over his broad, sculpted chest. Heat prickles across my flesh, only further reminding me that I like guys, not girls, and this whole Mia thing is a mess.
“Mia left in such a hurry that night with you because she…” I trail off, unable to figure out how to explain this. “She’s my best friend. But…”
“She’s hot?” he offers.
A laugh barks out of me. “Yeah, if you’re into girls.”
“But you’re not?”
“Nope.” I set my plate down on my end table and start fidgeting with the drawstrings of my sweats. “But she’s not like other girls.”
“That, I can agree on.”
“Sorry,” I grumble. “This is weird for you.”
“Weird, sure, but nothing I can’t handle. My whole life’s been weird and fucked-up. At this point, I roll with the punches.”
I study his sad, forced grin. It makes my chest tighten. If I wasn’t feeling selfish and sorry for myself, I’d pry into the mystery that is Drew. One day, whether he likes it or not, I will.
“She came onto me. Kissed me. It got hot. You walked in on the tail end of it.”
“Not awkward at all,” he deadpans, making us both laugh.
“I’ve never felt that way about a girl. She consumed me in that moment…”
“But?”
“But then reality hit. I reminded myself I was gay.”
“So you’re a labels guy then,
