I’m one of triplets, and we’re the youngest in our family, so our coming of age is a big deal for Mom.
Not that she needs any excuse to throw a party. Kennedy family parties are second nature to Mom now, because she doesn’t want to miss a single thing. She spent years building her business, working nonstop, sacrificing so much, missing so much, to give us everything in life. It took its toll on her, and her marriage, and it’s only since she sold Kennedy Apparel that she has truly started living. Now, she wastes no opportunity to celebrate, and it wouldn’t be a normal year if there aren’t at least a few family get-togethers.
Last year, she reunited with Dad after a period of separation, and she’s got the biggest smile on her face all the damn time, and I couldn’t be happier for them.
Which is why agreeing to this birthday party is a no-brainer.
I love my mom, and I’ll do anything to keep that big, bright smile on her face. “I love you, Mom,” I blurt, entering the open-plan living area just as Austen emerges from the laundry room.
A knowing smile slips across his mouth, irritating me for a nanosecond, but all I can focus on is how soft and full his lips are, how hot he looks with his freshly cut hair and stylish stubble on his chin and cheeks, and how ripped his inked arms are under his tight tee.
Honestly, I think I must have been missing a few brain cells the night I agreed to let my new straight friend move in here with me.
Talk about being a glutton for punishment.
“Sweetheart.” Mom’s concerned tone yanks me out of my head.
Austen’s smile is so wide now it threatens to split his face in two. I flip him the bird, just ’cause I feel like it. He chuckles under his breath, moving into the large kitchen and powering the Keurig on.
“Sorry, Mom. I zoned out for a bit. Blame Austen’s new haircut. It’s so hideous I checked out in shock.”
Austen laughs, knowing full well it’s a blatant lie. He’s the hottest player on the football team, by a mile, and everyone knows it. His dark hair is long on top and shorn super tight on the sides, with a defined zigzag design etched into the shaved segments.
No one on this campus is cooler than Austen Hayes.
No one.
“Hello, Austen,” Mom calls out. “Please excuse my son’s rudeness.”
“It’s all good, Mrs. Kennedy. I know he secretly loves me,” Austen shouts back, and I inwardly cringe, because he’s no idea how close to the truth he is.
“Honestly, what are they teaching you out there, Keaton?” Mom continues, oblivious. “I told you you should’ve attended Harvard with your brothers.”
“It was a joke, Mom.” I twist my head from side to side, attempting to loosen the tense cricks in my neck. I deliberately ignore the Harvard comment, because I’m not going there again.
I shocked everyone when I enrolled at Berkeley instead of Harvard. I hadn’t told a soul what I was planning. Not even Kent or Keanu. As triplets, we’re the closest of all my brothers, but this was something I needed to do for myself. I knew if I told them my plans they would convince me to drop them, so I purposely plotted behind their backs.
I hurt them, and I know they still don’t understand why I did it, but at least they have forgiven me now.
I’d like to say it hasn’t damaged our relationship, but that would be delusional, because it has. It’s impossible to maintain the same closeness when I’m in California and they’re in Boston. We’ve naturally drifted apart while Keanu and Kent have grown closer.
Keanu married his childhood sweetheart Selena last year, and while they have their own place in Wellesley, they spend the week sharing the condo Keanu and Kent co-own now they are at college.
Despite how everything’s turned out, I still don’t regret my decision to come here.
“I’m throwing a party for Keaton’s twenty-first, and I expect to see you there, Austen,” Mom says, ignoring me.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Austen smoothly replies while I roll my eyes.
I’m not opposed to bringing Austen home, but I’d rather it wasn’t as just my friend.
I glance around, and the world is still spinning. It hasn’t crashed down around me because I’ve finally admitted I’m crushing hard on my new bestie—the one with a steady girlfriend back home in Golden, Colorado.
I’m as much of a lost cause as I’ve always been.
We say our goodbyes, and I hang up.
“I like your mom,” Austen says, handing me a steaming mug of coffee.
Our fingers brush in the exchange, and his touch sends shivers coursing up my arm, like always. “Mom’s the best, but I should warn you she’ll be all over you like a rash if you come home with me.”
He arches a brow, leaning his hip against the marble countertop, waiting for me to elaborate.
“If she still owned her label, she’d be trying to get you to model for her. Especially since your look is supposedly all the rage right now.” I wave my hands casually in his direction, not wanting to linger on his tall, tan, ripped body, or the impressive ink covering both arms and most of his chest and back, or meet those gorgeous green eyes that always seem to burn with intensity, for fear I’ll sprout a boner. God knows, it’s happened more times than I can count since fall semester started three weeks ago.
Austen moved in over the summer break when his preseason training commenced, but I only returned from Boston the week before classes resumed, and already I’m hot for him.
Which is stupid.
Because he’s straight.
And he has a girlfriend.
However many times I repeat those facts to myself, it doesn’t seem to matter. My body will not get with the program. And even if he wasn’t straight, and he didn’t have a girlfriend, it wouldn’t matter much when I’m still firmly in the closet, because I’m a chickenshit with no balls and an unhealthy dose of self-loathing.
I had planned on telling my family the truth after the dust had settled on my breakup with Melissa. But my decision to fly to Malibu after Faye and Kyler’s going away party put the nail in that coffin.
Now I can’t fess up.
Not without telling everyone what happened on that disastrous trip, and how I’m paying the price, and that’s just not going to happen.
I made this mess. It’s up to me to fix it. Even if I have no clue how to do that.
Austen’s smirk rises, and while I curse myself for my honest admission, I’m grateful it’s distracted me from my depressive inner monologue.
“He thinks I’m hot.” Austen waggles his brows.
“Arrogance is not a good look on you,” I retort, feeling heat creep up my neck and onto my face.
“It’s only arrogance if I’m the one who believes it, but you were the one pointing it out.”
“Forget I said anything. Erase the entire conversation from your brain.”
“And miss out on watching you squirm? Where’s the fun in that?” He pins me with a shit-eating grin before casually strolling to the refrigerator and opening the door. “What do you want for dinner?”
“You mean there’s a choice?” I prop one hand on my hip. It’s usually protein and vegetables, though my body is already thanking Austen for it.
Austen is a serious athlete, and he’s careful about what he puts into his body. It’s why he’s usually the one to cook. I don’t complain. Having a home-cooked meal handed to me every night is one of the perks of having a roommate. The other is the obvious spank bank material. Though one could argue that’s a con.
“You can always cook for yourself,” he coolly replies, retrieving two steaks and a broccoli stir fry mix from the refrigerator shelf.
“I’m in a rush,” I admit, yanking my shirt up over my head as I head toward the laundry room. “I’ve got an editorial meeting in an hour. Mol is determined to crack the whip this year.”
Molly is one of my small-knit group of friends on campus. She recruited me to The Daily Californian, the student-run newspaper on campus, last year when she discover
ed I was writing on the sly. Having just been promoted to editor, she is intent on making radical changes and stamping her mark all over her predecessor’s legacy. I’m hoping she doesn’t ruffle too many feathers, but she will have my support, no matter what.
Austen’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as his gaze darts to my bare abs. It’s not the first time I’ve noticed him checking me out, but I’ve no idea what to make of it. “Someone’s been putting extra hours in at the gym,” he quips, drilling me with a fiery look.
“My brother Kent created a plan for me when I was home over summer break. He’s a hardcore gym rat, and he knows his stuff.” I shrug off his veiled compliment, though I’m secretly pleased.
After that shit went down with Brock, I needed something to distract me until I returned to Berkeley, and the gym was my salvation. It’s fair to say I’m in the best shape of my life, even if I’m nowhere near as ripped as Kent or my older brother Keven and I pale into insignificance beside the work of art that is Austen’s body.
Austen looks like he’s carved from rare stone. He’s all sharp lines, curved dips, and cut angles. It speaks to incredible dedication and commitment, and I’m in awe of him. Not just for his stunning otherworldly body but his attitude to life in general.
Austen owns who he is, and he makes no apologies for it. Nothing fazes him, and he seems to take everything in stride. He has a set goal, and he works his butt off in the hopes of achieving it.
Meanwhile, I’m over here in the loser’s corner. Directionless. Goalless. Hiding my true self behind a façade I’m beginning to despise. Lying to everyone who means anything to me. Letting scum of the earth manipulate me.
Maybe some of Austen’s confidence and strength will rub off on me.
Maybe eventually I’ll grow a pair and take back control of my life.
Until then, I’m stuck on this hamster wheel until I find the courage to jump off.
***
“Okay, everyone. Thanks for your time. Don’t forget to download the assignment schedule and take note of your deadline before you leave,” Molly says, drawing the meeting to a close. Chairs screech as everyone gets up. I stifle a yawn, glancing at my watch for the umpteenth time, already knowing I’m going to be late.
Fuck him.
He can damn well wait.
I wait until the others have left the room before turning to my friend.
“Well?” she asks, chewing on the corner of her mouth in an obvious tell. “How did I do?”
“You were awesome,” I truthfully reply, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
“Honestly?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, Mol.” I grab her into a hug. Molly is a teeny-tiny thing, and at five foot nothing, she barely reaches my chest. “Everyone seems excited for your ideas, and I didn’t sense any bad vibes.” She shucks out of my arms, and I press a kiss to the top of her short blonde head. “You’ve got this.”
“Thanks, Keats.” She squeezes my waist. “I don’t think I could do this without you.”
“Sure, you could, but I’m glad I’m here to support you.” I grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. “I’ve got to dash.”
“Hot date?” she inquires, lifting a brow.
I snort out a laugh. “Not likely.”
Her features soften. “Why not? I thought you and Melissa were done for good this time, or are you having second thoughts?” What she really means to say is fourth, fifth, or sixth thoughts because Melissa and I have been on and off like a yo-yo for the past two years.
I shake my head. “I don’t have any doubts. Melissa and I weren’t right for one another.”
“You were with her a long time though. I’m sure you miss her.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Honestly? I do miss talking to her. We’d been together since we were fifteen, but our relationship was more like brother and sister at the end. I made a mess of things since coming here, and I really hurt her. I don’t want to keep doing that. A clean break is best for everyone.”
I meant what I told Mel the night of my brother’s going away party. I care about her, even though I’ve been stringing her along for years. It wasn’t intentional at the start, but I was never going to be the one for her, and she deserved to know that sooner. I feel shitty for how I’ve treated her, because she’s a sweet girl and she didn’t deserve to be misled.
My cell pings with a new message, and I don’t need to check to know who it’s from.
I kiss Mol on the cheek one final time. “We still good for Saturday night?”
“Absolutely. We’ll see you at the diner at eight.”
Ignoring the incessant pinging of my phone, I make my way to the rendezvous point, my mood souring with every step I take. There can only be one reason why he wants to meet, and it’s nothing good. I knew this wasn’t the end of it, even if I’d been hoping I was wrong. It seems he’s determined to milk this for everything he can get.
I check left and right before ducking into the alleyway, confirming no one is watching me. An arm flies out as I pass an overflowing dumpster, and I’m roughly slammed against a wall.
My bag drops to the ground with a thud as his tatted arm pushes up under my neck. Planting both hands on his shoulders, I shove him back, grateful for the extra muscle I’ve gained since he last saw me. Working out wasn’t just a distraction. It served another purpose too.
“You’re fucking late,” Brock hisses, drilling dark eyes into me.
“My meeting ran over, and I’m here now.”
“You’re not calling the shots, Kennedy.” He jabs his finger into my chest.
I thrust his finger away. “You don’t get to threaten me. We had a deal, and I paid up. I owe you nothing.”
His lips curl into a menacing sneer. “We have a deal, and you’ll stop owing me when I say.”
“You made other copies,” I surmise, working hard to keep my panic at bay. I’m not surprised. I knew it was too easy. I’ve been waiting for this to come back at me. It’s the fear that haunts me in my sleep every night.
He barks out a derisory laugh, and I wonder how I ever found him attractive.
“Don’t play dumb, Kennedy. We both know you’re smarter than that. You knew this wasn’t over.”
“How much?” I ask, just wanting this conversation to be over.
“Fifty thousand.” He doesn’t even break a sweat.
“Fifty and we’re done,” I reply, folding my arms and glaring at him.
He laughs. “Cute but stupid.” Gripping my chin, he lowers his gaze to my mouth, and bile travels up my throat. “Meet me back here on Sunday. Same time. Bring the cash with you.”
CHAPTER TWO
Austen
“You coming to the party Saturday or wimping out on us again?” Nolan asks, as we emerge from the showers after practice with towels wrapped around our hips.
“Hard pass.” I open my locker. “I’m all partied out.”
“This is what happens when you tie yourself to the same pussy for life.” Nolan slaps me on the back, and it’s borderline unfriendly. “So much wasted potential. The jersey chasers would go crazy if you dumped that bitch and started living your best life.”
I grit my teeth, barely controlling my frustration. “Gia is not a bitch, and I’m sick of repeating myself. Why the fuck do you even care?” I grab my bag and shut my locker, sitting down on the bench as Colton stalks toward me, completely nude, dick flapping about as he towel-dries his wet hair.
“It’s called team bonding,” Nolan retorts, slamming his locker door shut.
“Let me get this straight,” I say, pulling on boxers and sweatpants. “I’m not being a team player unless I’m banging every jersey chaser and sorority girl in sight?”
“You’re the odd man out,” Alan adds, supporting the douche. “And it’s obvious.”
“What’s obvious is you two clowns don’t know when to shut the fuck up.” Colton opens his locker with one hand while drying his balls with the other.
“Your arg
ument lacks merit.” I drill Nolan with a pointed look before pulling my shirt on over my head. “But, by all means, bring it to Coach and see what he says.”
“It’s like you don’t like us or something,” Alan says.
You think? Schooling my lips into a neutral line, I quirk a brow. “We back in kindergarten now?” My gaze bounces between the two dipshits. “The only thing that matters is how I play on the field and that I have every player’s back out there.” I shove my wet towel into Nolan’s chest. “Judge me on that and only that.”
I don’t wait to hear their replies, grabbing my bag and exiting the locker room.
“Hey, man. Wait up!” Colton calls out after me, and I slam to a halt, hanging back for him. “You want to grab something to eat?”
“Sure,” I say on autopilot, though I’d much rather return to the apartment and eat with Keats.
Which is exactly why I’m going to eat with my best buddy instead.
We settle into our usual booth at our favorite restaurant, ordering steaks and baked potatoes. Stretching my arm out along the back of the booth, I level a look at my bud across the table. “Is Nolan still sore I moved out, or was that shit for some other reason?”
I’m genuinely shocked no one has figured my secret out. I might be living a lie, but I don’t hide who I really am. All it would take is someone to properly look at me, to see me, and the truth would be staring them in the face.
I suspect Colton knows, and it’s not like him to keep shit inside, but he hasn’t mentioned a word. I’ve been tempted to tell him several times, but it’s not fair to ask him to keep my secret, so I can only tell him the truth if I’m planning on telling the whole team the truth.
I want to.
Because I’m sick of lying. I never should have agreed with Coach Ramirez. He caught me at a rare vulnerable moment, and I conceded when my gut already knew it was a bad idea.
But I’ve come this far, so I might as well stick it out.
“Nolan’s a dick,” Colton says, guzzling his water. “He’s pissed you ditched us for Kennedy. Thinks you sold out for his connections.”
“He’s an idiot.” I swirl my bottlecap on the table. “I didn’t ditch anyone. I moved out because living in party central was driving me fucking insane. And Keats’ connections aren’t worth shit to me. His family doesn’t move in sporting circles.”
Adoring Keaton: A Stand-Alone Friends-to-Lovers MM Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 9) Page 2