“You don’t get it, Owen,” I said, sounding a little meaner than I should have. Already my plan was going to shit. I couldn’t act calm around him.
He paused, clearly hurt, searching my face. “Get what? Max, what is up? Why have you been avoiding me so much today?”
“Just forget about it,” I said, my voice curt. I stared out at the water.
“Look at me,” Owen said. I couldn’t deny him that.
I cut my eyes at him and instantly knew it was a mistake. His gaze made me melt instantly, and melting was not what I needed at this moment.
“Why didn’t you sleep in my bed last night?” he said, his voice softer now.
Suddenly, the fire was back. “Because I can’t fucking handle it, Owen. It’s different for you. Don’t you get it?”
“What? What’s different?”
I paused, shaking my head. I couldn’t go on like this. What was I supposed to do, spend the whole trip dodging these questions, avoiding Owen, lying to him? I couldn’t. And so as much as it felt like failure, I had to tell him the truth. I’d already reached my breaking point.
“ What’s different?” I said. “Everything. You’re straight, Owen, and I’m gay, and so things are… different.”
He paused, his eyes on me, and I felt like he was systematically dismantling me just with his gaze. I loved him so much, and yet I hated him at this moment. “Like what?” he pressed.
I was glad that most of me was underwater because otherwise, Owen would have been able to see that I was shaking. I looked back out at the water, the sun glinting off every wave, and I felt like my head was spinning.
“You’re my best friend,” I said. “And I know that’s what you are, and I know that is all you ask of me. But I can’t fucking help it. I’ve been having some… some… fuck, Owen.”
“What?” he asked, his voice soft. “What have you been… having?”
“Some annoying feelings,” I blurted out. “And I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to share a bed with you right now.”
Owen’s face was soft, but he was listening to me, like he was intent on hearing every word I said. It scared me.
“I guess it never really occurred to me in the past, and we were both always so distracted that it didn’t matter anyway, but… I’ve… I’m….”
“You can tell me anything, Max. I’m not going anywhere.” He walked up a little closer to me.
He was so good. So good that even in the face of me acting like an idiot, he still cared. Still let me confide in him, let me pour out my soul for what felt like the first time ever.
“Jesus, Owen,” I said, my voice weak. “I’m attracted to you. There it is. I can’t hide from it anymore, I guess, and I’ve tried so fucking hard, but it’s kind of hit me like a ton of bricks. It’s hard for me to sleep next to you because I’m attracted to you. And even though my brain knows I shouldn’t want certain things, I end up having these… these physical reactions, and you’re straight, and—”
I jumped when I felt Owen’s hand on my chest. I hadn’t even seen him reaching out, but then his hand was there, anchoring me, right over my heart. I felt like the edges of my world were dissolving, like the bright sun was going to swallow us up, and this moment here with Owen would be the last thing I knew.
But it was okay. His hand on me felt so good, so undeniably right, and even if he was about to tell me he wanted to end the friendship right then and there, maybe I could have been okay.
He began to slide his hand up, slowly, bringing his other hand up and over until he was holding me at both shoulders. And then his arms were wrapped around me, pulling me close to him.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Owen, I—”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” he said. His voice was so sweet and close to me, and it reminded me of how he sounded in bed next to me, like we were so close we almost became one body.
“I don’t?” I asked, wondering if he could feel me shaking.
He shook his head gently. “Nope.”
I summoned the power to look up, to meet his eyes, to let him see mine. The saltwater clung to his lashes and temple, and the normal mischief in his gaze was replaced by something else entirely. His look was only for me, and as we hung in that moment, I felt like I was floating.
Owen brought one hand to my face, putting his thumb near my eye to wipe away a stray tear that I hadn’t even known was there.
And then he leaned in, pressing his lips to that same spot at the top of my cheek.
I sighed at his touch, feeling myself let go of every ounce of tension that I’d been holding, and finally let my body press against his. He didn’t pull back after kissing near my temple—instead, he stayed right there close to me.
“I’ve… felt it, Max,” he said.
“What?” I said, my voice a raspy whisper, barely audible.
“But—but you’re….”
He placed his finger gently to my lips, quieting me. He trailed his thumb on my lower lip before moving it backward again, lacing his fingers into my hair.
His eyes were so beautiful, so serene as he looked at me. And then he was leaning in even closer; so close that I could feel his breath.
I gasped as his lips met mine. He gripped me hard, but he kissed me so sweetly, his lips slick and warm, a stark contrast to the cool sea water. He tasted like salt and the strawberries we’d shared earlier that day. It was as if every thought I’d ever had about him was obliterated, and in that moment, this was all that mattered: he and I, pressed so close, together in the ocean.
Owen was kissing me.
He was kissing me.
It didn’t feel real. It felt too good to be real, not strange at all, but instead, just perfect. His body fit around mine like a puzzle piece latching right into its correct place, holding me like I’d float away if he let go.
And I might have.
It was everything I needed, but at the same time, it was nothing close to enough—as quickly as it had started, it stoked a hunger in me. It awakened something that I’d forced myself to keep asleep for so long: a deep pool of want, of need, something less sweet and more insatiable.
I gripped my hands around his shoulders and dragged my fingers down his back, to his hips, leaning deeper into the kiss and sliding my tongue against his. Part of me knew I should go slower, but something had been unleashed in me, and once given free reign, I could barely control it. I bit gently on his lower lip, pulling it into my own mouth as I pressed my body up against the length of his.
And then I gasped, pulling away. I was hard as a fucking diamond, and I’d just pressed my cock against Owen, without a care in the world.
A peal of laughter floated toward us from down the beach, and I quickly turned to see that a couple were walking down the sand, soon to be coming toward the water.
“We’ve gotta head back,” I said, still shaking, but for a different reason now. From excitement.
“I know,” Owen said, but he didn’t move an inch. He brought his hand to my face again, gently cupping my cheek, his eyes still smoldering. I heard the sound of the couple coming closer and then the sound of more voices behind them.
“Owen…” I said.
“Tonight,” he said urgently. “Tonight. Come to my room. Will you?”
I thought about lying next to him, the warmth of his body near mine, and how it took on a whole different level of meaning and dimension now. It was intoxicating.
“Of course,” I said, my voice low. “God—of course I will.”
“Good,” Owen said, dipping to kiss me once more, long and warm and slow. I gasped, and just as quickly, he pulled back, giving me one last look before taking off toward the shore.
We swam back to the sand and then walked the rest of the way over toward our house. We walked in silence, but it was the best silence I think I’d ever felt. It was more than a comfortable silence; it was full of potential, heavy with the anticipation of the night that lay ahead of us. I reached up to touch my lips with my fi
ngertips, as if I was trying to prove to myself that what just happened really happened.
I was walking on steady ground now, but I still felt like I was floating every step back home. I didn’t know what the hell was going on. Everything was unprecedented and so unexpected. But I couldn’t say no to it, couldn’t dare turn away from his bed that night. I didn’t even know what he wanted—how much he wanted—but whatever it was, I wanted to know.
And when Owen occasionally turned to look at me during the walk home, for the first time, it felt like the look in his eyes was only for me.
“Oh, it was absolutely amazing,” Ruth said from across me at the dinner table, gesturing emphatically with her hands, her eyes wide. “Just the most beautiful gemstones you will ever see. Truly.”
“I thought it was pretty good,” Jim said, leaning back.
“Doesn’t seem like you really liked it, Dad,” Patrick said, grinning.
“I liked it!” he protested, cocking his head to one side. “Well, I liked it as much as I could enjoy any museum that isn’t about World War II.”
“Exactly,” Patrick said, nodding before taking another bite of his baked potato.
“I’m serious, though,” Ruth said. “Megan, I know you would love it. Maybe that’s something that you and Owen would like to do together?”
I saw Owen and Megan share a look from across the table. No one would be able to tell except me, and maybe Patrick—but it was clearly a look of exasperation.
“Maybe,” Owen said.
Owen had been sitting next to me throughout dinner, and it had been the most pleasantly excruciating hour of my life. He was so close to me, but the distance felt like a cavern between us. In the face of how everyday and normal the dinner was, our afternoon at the beach felt like a faraway planet.
“Did you have a nice afternoon?” Ruth said. “I saw you three on the beach one minute, and the next, you were all gone.”
“I actually made friends with Henry from a few houses down,” Megan said, smiling.
“Oh, the Marksons’ kid?” Jim asked. “I remember Henry. Good kid.”
“He’s so cool. He showed me the incredible paintings his mom does here at the beach. She’s megatalented.”
“Oh, she really is,” Ruth agreed. “I bought one of her paintings. It’s hanging in our home back in Rose Falls.”
Megan nodded. Then a smile spread over her face. “Henry also shared some homemade strawberry ice cream he made. He’s a cook, apparently. I was totally blown away. I could get used to that kind of cooking.”
“He’s a good-looking guy, too,” Patrick said, giving Megan a nod.
“A good-looking guy?” Taran asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, Taran, no one is better looking than you,” Patrick said, leaning in to kiss Taran on the cheek. “But yes. Henry is a great guy.”
I glanced over and saw that Ruth was looking down at her plate, her lips pressed into a thin line. It was uncharacteristic of her—usually she was so ebulliently happy, but something about the Henry conversation she didn’t seem to like.
“And Owen? Max? Did you two go over to Henry’s with Megan too?”
Owen and I both shook our heads, exactly in unison.
“No—”
“I—” Owen said at the same time.
“We—”
Owen and I turned to look at one another, and I could feel my face grow hot.
“We stayed on the beach. We just swam out pretty far,” Owen said, turning back toward his mom. “Was a nice day for the water.”
“Swam out how far?” Ruth asked, a slight concern on her face. “Owen, you know it’s dangerous to go too far—”
“I know, I know. We didn’t go far into the deep. Just up the coast.”
“Find anything interesting?” Patrick asked, popping a strawberry into his mouth.
For a moment Owen and I both said nothing, probably expecting the other to field the question.
“Yeah,” I said finally, nodding. “There was some really cool stuff out there.”
I knew it was a dumb answer, but I had nothing else. What was I supposed to say? Yeah, for some reason, when I swam far away to escape my feelings about Owen, he chased me out and then—oh, yeah, and then he fucking kissed me until my cock was aching underneath my shorts. And I can’t wait for this dinner to be over so that I can hop in bed with him.
“Definitely,” Owen said, and I was instantly grateful that he was saying anything to fill the silence. “We saw this one seashell that I swear was as big as a frisbee.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t just a shiny frisbee in the sand?” Patrick asked.
“Well, no, not at all,” Owen said, grinning.
Patrick continued on the conversation, talking about his time in high school playing ultimate frisbee, and I had never been gladder for a topic change. My heart had been pounding when Ruth had asked what we were up to.
Under the table, at first almost imperceptibly, I felt Owen shift and his leg touch the side of mine. It could have been an accident, but a moment later I felt his foot along my ankle, rubbing against me. He reached his hand over to my thigh and gave it one quick hard squeeze before pulling away, taking another bite from his plate.
And then I had a real problem. Because I could feel my cock stirring under my shorts.
For God’s sake. Was that all it took? All Owen had to do was play a little footsie with me, squeeze my thigh, and then I was ready to go? I couldn’t remember the last time I felt like this for a guy. And this wasn’t just any guy—this was my best friend. Someone who I’d almost lost as a friend once already, and I definitely didn’t want to lose again.
I knew I couldn’t fuck this up. I wanted him more than anything in the world, but no matter what happened, I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. What if Owen was just experimenting? What if this was something he wanted to do at the beach house, but never again? And, hell, despite everything, what if Ruth was right? What if Megan and Owen really were meant to be?
Suddenly my mind had gone into overdrive again, and I tried to just focus on the conversation.
“So, who wants to go out and build the fire? Patrick? Owen? Megan?” Jim said, standing up and starting the process of doing the dishes.
“Hell, yeah,” Taran said. “It’s definitely fire o’clock.”
“I’ll help get it started,” Megan said, rising.
Owen yawned, very audibly and obviously. “I don’t know, guys. I’m sure you’ll have fun, but I’m honestly completely beat. It was a long day.”
I nodded. “I’m practically falling asleep, too. Didn’t get much rest last night.”
“We should just go to bed,” Owen said.
“Are you two kidding me?” Megan said. “Don’t be like that! Come out and sit by the fire with us for an hour or two! You don’t want s’mores?”
Owen shrugged. “I can have s’mores anytime. But sleep is calling to me now. I want to go to bed.”
Ruth put her hand on her hip, looking over at us. “Boys, please,” she said, her gaze firm. I knew immediately that this must have been Ruth’s “mom face”—what she must have used when she needed Owen to know she meant business. “Come out to the fire. For at least an hour. We need your help cleaning up dinner, and we need your help out back.”
Owen and I shared a look. We both knew we couldn’t say no.
Owen took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. C’mon, Max, let’s go sit by the fire.”
We sat outside for two and a half hours, and every minute of it I felt like I might explode. Jim talked about his favorite brands of hiking boots. Ruth talked about the book club she was a part of. Megan talked more about Henry. Patrick and Taran talked about the goddamn constellations in the sky. Everyone talked and talked and talked, seeming not to notice that Owen and I were silent, restless, and fucking bursting at the seams. I caught his gaze every once in a while and wished I could teleport us back up to the bedroom instantly.
When Jim finally yawne
d, I knew the time was near. Finally, people began to say they were tired, and everyone meandered back up to the house.
I got stuck brushing my teeth in the bathroom at the same time as Megan. I tried to rush, hoping I didn’t seem ridiculously antsy, but I swore Megan could tell.
She gave me a strange sideways look before I left the room, and then came out right after me. Our rooms were all in the same hallway, and I hesitated outside my own door. Owen was already in his room—in there, waiting for me, waiting to do who knows what in bed with me. But I couldn’t exactly just waltz in his room while Megan was right here.
“Tonight was fun,” she said softly as we stood in the dark hall.
I nodded. “Today was good overall,” I said.
“Yeah?” she asked. “I was worried about you this morning—you seemed kind of agitated or something. But you seem a lot better now. Even if you are still acting all skittish.”
I grinned and shrugged, trying to act casual. “It’s just weird being away from work, I guess,” I said. “Good night, Megan.” I turned toward my door.
“Wait,” she said, and I tried to hide the set in my jaw as I turned back around toward her.
“Yes?”
“I want you to meet Henry,” she said, a small smile on her face. “I don’t know, Max, I know it’s soon, but he’s dreamy. Do you think tomorrow you can come by with me? Get to know him?”
“Sure, yeah, great,” I said, plastering a smile on my face.
“Awesome,” she said, beaming. “You’re going to love him, Max. He likes computers, too, so I’m sure you can geek out about them together.”
“Cool!” I said. “Well, good night!”
She sighed. “G’night, weirdo,” she said with a laugh, finally stepping toward her room. I opened the door to my own, pretending to go inside. When I briefly looked at the empty bed, I felt a sharp sadness—last night I’d slept there alone, and all I’d wanted was to be by Owen. God, how things had changed since then.
I waited a couple minutes before tiptoeing back through my door and quietly crossing over to Owen’s room. I entered, closing the door behind me equally quietly, praying that the floorboards weren’t obviously loud to the rest of the house.
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