Adoring Keaton: A Stand-Alone Friends-to-Lovers MM Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 9)

by Siobhan Davis

  Austen shakes his head. “Never outright. But it was implied. When Gia and I told them we were dating, they looked relieved, and they didn’t stop to question it.”

  “I can’t believe they bought it when you’d been openly gay for years and you’d had boyfriends.”

  “I told them I was bi, and they seemed to accept that easier. They have always hoped Gia and I would get married, so I guess they chose to believe the lie rather than open their eyes and see what’s always been staring them in the face. Orwell is the only one who didn’t buy it. He correctly guessed what we were doing.” He rubs my thigh, and my cock jerks behind my pants. “He was only thirteen, but he begged me not to do it.” A veil of sadness shrouds his handsome face, and I want to remove it. “I should’ve listened to my brother instead of my coach.”

  “What about the guys on the team? Do any of them know?”

  “I think Colton suspects, but he’s never said a word.”

  “You’ve never been tempted to tell him?”

  “So many times, but I don’t want to burden him with the secret.”

  “What if you get signed by the NFL? Will you tell then?”

  He lifts his hands from my body, clawing them through his dark hair. “The plan is to wait until after I have a signed contract, if I’m lucky enough to get offered one, and then come out privately to my new team, but I don’t know if I can do this anymore. It’s killing me lying about who I am. I feel like such a fraud, and the more I lie, the worse it gets.”

  A messy ball of emotion clogs my throat, and I feel like the biggest fraud. I’m a spineless coward. Because I’ve been lying about who I am my entire life, never having the balls to do what Austen’s done. “I know the feeling,” I confess, rubbing at the tightness in my chest. “At least you had the courage to admit who you were in the first place. I’m a coward because I’ve been hiding who I am this entire time, and I couldn’t hate myself any more if I tried.”

  Closing the gap between us, he presses his mouth to mine, and I grab him, holding him close as we kiss. When we pull back, he threads his fingers in mine, fixing me with a look loaded with sympathy. “Everyone’s journey is different, and you should never compare yourself to anyone else.” He rubs soothing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. “I am intrigued though. Are you into guys and girls?”

  “Just guys.” His eyes search mine, and I know what he’s asking without him verbalizing. “I’m a piece of shit, Austen, because I’ve strung Melissa along since I was fifteen, and she doesn’t deserve that.”

  "How did that happen?” He continues to draw circles on my hand with his thumb, and it’s hugely comforting.

  “I’ve known I was different from my brothers since I hit puberty, but it only really hit home when I started attending the parties they used to throw, and they were all about the girls while I was only eyeing up the boys. At first, I was confused, and then I was in denial.”

  I stop, my chest heaving, emotion weighing heavy on my heart and my soul. I wet my dry lips. “I’ve never admitted this to anyone,” I supply. “Except to the pages of my journal.”

  “We don’t have to talk about this now if it makes you uncomfortable,” he offers, confirming what I already know. That Austen is one of the good guys. A rare gem in a sea of sharks.

  “I want to tell you. I want you to know all the hidden parts of me.”

  An adoring smile graces his gorgeous mouth, and I kiss him. Just ’cause, apparently, now I can, and that shit will never get old.

  “I didn’t want to be gay. I wanted to be normal.” I cringe, because even saying those words pains me. “I wanted to someday get married and have a wife and kids, but I was too naïve or too closed off because I refused to acknowledge to myself that I could still have those things living freely as a gay man.” Air whooshes out of my mouth as I remember the anxiety of those years. “I came so close to telling my cousin Faye after she moved in with us, but I always chickened out.”

  “You couldn’t tell your brothers?” he inquires. “Not even the triplets?”

  I shake my head. “I was afraid. Not that I think my family will disown me or anything. I know once they find out they’ll be shocked, but they’ll come around.”

  “So why haven’t you told them?” There’s no judgment in his tone or his expression, just curiosity.

  “My family can’t make a move without the press breathing down our backs, and I know if I officially come out it will mean the entire world knowing, and I...I can’t face it, man.” Pain annihilates my insides as fear slithers through my veins.

  Brock has the power to turn that nightmare into a reality, in the worst possible way, and I have zero control over it. My breathing turns labored as panic races through me at the thought of that recording being in the public domain. There will be no rock big enough to crawl under if that surfaces.

  “Breathe, man.” Austen rubs my back, his concerned expression examining every inch of my terrified one. “In and out.” He breathes with me, until I’m back in control.

  “I’m so fucking weak.” I squeeze my eyes closed, self-loathing suffocating me.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Austen says, pulling me into a hug. My arms band around his waist as he holds me to his chest. “That is a lot to take on for anyone, let alone a teen struggling to accept who he is.”

  “You did it.”

  He eases back, peering into my eyes. “One of the reasons I chose to heed Coach’s advice was this very thing. It’s still the one reality stopping me from admitting the truth. I knew if I came here as an openly gay athlete that I’d claim everyone’s attention. My teammates. Other students. The media. It’s all they would focus on. It would overshadow my stats on the field. I don’t want to be defined by my sexual orientation. It should only ever be about my performance on the field. So, I get it, and it doesn’t make you weak. It’s a very real concern, especially for you because of your family’s notoriety.”

  A layer of stress lifts off my shoulders, and I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that. “I don’t want to be a gay icon or a gay role model. I hate the attention my name brings as it is, and I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility. That’s been a big driving force behind my decision, but I can’t keep denying who I am because it’s killing me too, Austen. I have finally accepted who I am in here.” I thump on my chest, right in the place where my heart beats. “It’s why I properly ended things with Melissa. I’m not into women, and I never will be. Deep down, I’ve always known that, and I should’ve been honest with her years ago. She’s so sweet, and she deserved better.”

  I still remember the hurt and the anger on her face the last time we talked, and I hate I put it there. That I turned someone loving and innocent into someone she’s not, and I wish there was some way I could make it up to her.

  Forcing those thoughts aside, I continue explaining, because Austen needs to know I would never mess with him. I am serious about living my life more authentically, as much as that’s possible. “I have accepted it now. I’ve accepted that the vision I had of the future can still come true with a man, and I’m close to finding the courage to tell my family, but I am not ready to let the world know. I am not ready for that level of scrutiny and opinion, and the scary thing is, I don’t know if I ever will be.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Austen

  “We shouldn’t have to prepare,” I say, feeling his pain as acutely as my own. “No one makes a big deal or is forced into making an announcement if they are hetero, so why the fuck should we have to make any proclamation about our sexuality?” It’s a rhetorical question, and we both know it.

  “Exactly. Except the worlds we inhabit won’t permit us to be true to ourselves without pressure or speculation.”

  “Or we could just come out and say nothing. Let them draw their own conclusions.” It’s a spur of the moment comment, not without some merit, but it’s not as simple as that for us, and we both know it.

  “It would create
a media frenzy if we stepped outside hand in hand or were caught kissing.” Keaton smooths a hand along his taut jaw. “The vultures would descend on campus, and we’d have to say bye-bye to any form of normal college existence. You’d be hounded after practice and games, and your teammates would be harassed for statements. It’d be a fucking nightmare.”

  We’re both contemplative as the implications of our conversation take root. “We have to keep our relationship a secret,” I say, breaking the silence and addressing the elephant in the room.

  “Would that be a problem for you?” His big blue eyes search mine.

  “No more than for you.”

  He shakes his head. “You just admitted you are sick of hiding who you are. It’s worse for you because you’ve been out in the open, while I’ve never known anything different.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’d be easier for you, and it’s not a competition.”

  “So where does that leave us?” he asks, gulping audibly, his nerves returning.

  I clasp the back of his head. “Taking things one day at a time,” I suggest. “Conducting our relationship behind closed doors.”

  “Will that be enough?” Fear blazes at the back of his eyes.

  “You’re enough.” I peck his lips. “And being with you will make me happy. If we have to hide it, so be it. It’s better than not having you in my life as my boyfriend.”

  Shock splays on his face, and his innocence is showing again. I know Keats is worried about his inexperience, but it’s honestly refreshing. I love that he’s a blank canvas. That I’m the one who’ll get to explore his sexuality with him. It’s me who will help him identify what he likes and dislikes.

  “Boyfriends,” he chokes out, still looking shocked.

  “Or no labels, if you prefer.” Honestly, I’m not hung up on it. “All I ask is exclusivity. I won’t share you.”

  Red heat creeps up his neck, and I kiss him hard, because he doesn’t realize how much I’m into him and how much his inexperience appeals to me. I love we will get to share all this together.

  “Boyfriends is good,” he says when we finally break for air. “More than good.” He smiles, and it’s so wide it threatens to split his face in two.

  “Cool.” I smother a cocky grin. “Boyfriend.”

  He laughs, pressing his forehead to mine. “My heart is pounding so hard right now, and I can’t remember the last time I was this excited or this happy.”

  Keaton wears his heart on his sleeve, and he’s just so inherently good. I hope I’m worthy enough to be in his life. I won’t stop trying to prove I am, even if it’s only to myself. “Ditto. I haven’t had a boyfriend since the summer before senior year, and I love being in a relationship.”

  He pulls his head back, peering into my eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything. Don’t ever hold back.”

  “You said it’s been a while since you fucked around with anyone. How long is a while?”

  “I haven’t been laid in over a year,” I admit, not ashamed by the fact.

  His eyes betray his surprise. “Wow. That’s...unexpected.”

  I shrug. “Opportunities to hook up or meet guys are slim. I can’t risk it, because of Gia and in case the guy recognizes me. And Grindr dates really aren’t me,” I add, recalling the few times I used the app with a nasty taste in my mouth.

  He looks shocked, but pleased, and I can’t help teasing him. “You thought I was a manwhore?”

  “No. Definitely not.” He is quick to reassure me. “But you’re hot as fuck, and you’re a football star. You get hit on all the time. I guess I just never really thought it through. It’s not like I want to think of you with other people.”

  “Well, now you know.” I deliberately soften my features. “What about you?” His muscles bunch, and I tread carefully. “Does Melissa know you’re gay?”

  He shakes his head. “No. Although I’ll tell her after I’ve told my parents. She’s the only one outside the family I will admit the truth to.”

  “You haven’t been with her consistently though, right?” I ask, easing him into this.

  “We’ve been on and off a lot since college.”

  “Have you been with any other guys?”

  He pales, averting his eyes, and bile collects at the back of my throat. “You can tell me anything. I won’t judge.”

  He tilts his head up. “I’ve been with two guys. Neither were good experiences.”

  “I’m sorry.” I had a few poor experiences myself when I first came out, and it’s almost par for the course, but I would never dismiss his feelings or suggest it’s normal or acceptable.

  He shrugs, twisting his neck from side to side. “It happens, right?”

  I lace my fingers in his as I ask my next question. “Have you ever topped or bottomed? Or you just fucked around with them?”

  Withdrawing his hand, he scratches the back of his neck. “I’ve tried both,” he admits, barely maintaining eye contact.

  I arch a brow, urging him to continue. If he can’t talk about this with me, then he’s not ready for a full sexual relationship. Which is okay. We can ease into it. I just need to know what I’m dealing with here, because I never want to make him uncomfortable or push him before he’s ready.

  “I prefer to top.” His eyes examine mine. “What about you?”

  “I’m vers. I enjoy both, and I love the thought of your cock driving into me as much as I fantasize about drilling my dick in your ass.”

  “Hell.” He scrubs a hand down his face.

  “Does this make you uncomfortable?”

  “No. Not really. It’s just you’re so direct. Melissa and I were sleeping together since we were eighteen, and I’ve never had this kind of conversation with her.”

  “I’m not her.”

  His gaze lowers to my lap. “No, you’re most definitely not.” He grins, lifting his eyes to mine.

  “I’m curious. I’ve never been with a woman. Can’t ever imagine getting aroused by pussy. How did you do it?”

  He cringes a little, but before I can retract my question, he answers. “I closed my eyes a lot and imagined she was a guy.”

  “Any guy?” My lips tip up. “Or you imagined someone in particular?” I want to know everything about Keats. Especially his teenage crushes.

  A faraway look appears in his eyes, and he stares off into space for a minute. I wish I had a hotline to his brain so I could read his mind.

  Snapping out of it, he locks eyes on mine. “Usually Liam Hemsworth or Shawn Mendes, because they’re hot. It was Colton Haynes for a while after he publicly came out because he was my hero for ignoring industry advice and choosing to stay true to himself.”

  “He’s into older men. Noted,” I tease.

  He laughs before his expression turns serious. “With Melissa, it was very innocent at the start. Mainly kissing. We lost our virginity to each other at eighteen, and it was awkward. We slept together a few more times before I left to come here, but our relationship was never overtly sexual. We were like friends who occasionally slept together.”

  “And she never wondered about that?” I inquire, popping a brow.

  He pulls at his lips. “If she had doubts, she never voiced them to me. It was a first relationship, for both of us. Neither of us had any expectations.”

  “That’s kinda sad.”

  “I know,” he agrees. “And completely selfish of me. I hope she meets someone amazing who can show her how sex and intimacy is supposed to be, because she got shortchanged with me.”

  “You shortchanged yourself too. I hate you had to pretend, and I can’t wait to show you how amazing it is to have sex with the guy you’re into.”

  “Cocky, much?” he asks, tilting his head to one side.

  “I’ve been told I’m good in bed. Not gonna lie about that.”

  “And you’re really okay with it. Me topping?”

  “I want to have sex with you, man. There are lots of different ways we can do it. And ma
ybe at some future time, you’ll want to try bottoming with me. But if you don’t, I’m cool with your dick in my ass.”

  He splutters, embarrassment mingling with amusement on his face. He straightens his shoulders. “Want my dick in your ass now?”

  My cock throbs in response, and there’s no need to wait for a verbal reply. The growing bulge in my pants is testament to how badly I want him to fuck me. But there’s something else we need to discuss first. A topic which might ruin the mood, but I came home tonight with a purpose, and that hasn’t changed.

  “So badly, but I need to ask you one more thing.” I place my hand on his knee. “You’re not going to like it,” I warn.

  His eyes study mine, and his brow puckers. “What is it?”

  “What the hell were you doing in that alley with Brock Jonas?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Keaton

  I tug at my ears to ensure I’m not hearing things. A multitude of competing emotions fry my brain as I try to wrap my head around the horror of Austen’s words. “You followed me?” I snap, anger winning out.

  “Yes, and I’m not sorry I did.” His face shows zero remorse, and that only fuels my misguided rage.

  “You had no right! It’s none of your business.” I shove his hand off my knee, rising to my feet. “This is a huge invasion of my privacy. I’m so pissed.”

  “I’d never have guessed,” he drawls, as if this is funny.

  I fist handfuls of my hair, glaring at him. “Don’t make light of this. How would you feel if I stalked you?”

  “Flattered. Aroused. Happy you cared.”

  “Don’t do that.” I pace the hardwood floor, panic poisoning my veins as I search for an exit point. “Don’t joke.”

  He stands, planting himself in my path. “Don’t deflect. Whether I was right or wrong is inconsequential now. Just tell me what’s going on with that asshole?”

  “It’s none of your business,” I hiss. “Just drop it.”

  “I can’t do that. And I won’t start a relationship with someone who keeps secrets. This only works if there’s complete honesty.” He points his finger between us.