“Nope,” she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “Tonight’s about fun. I’m going to have it and so are you. Don’t make me pull out the you-owe-me card. I lost my virginity to a guy who doesn’t like girls. That’s trauma.”
“You don’t look all that traumatized.”
She grinned. “I totally am. Come on.”
My drink sloshed as she dragged me toward the group, but she was a force that would not be thwarted.
“Hey,” Colette said, guiding me into the makeshift circle. She plopped down on one of the blankets spread along ground and patted the spot next to her. Feeling like I’d been demoted to Pomeranian status, I sat. “What are y’all up to?”
Malcolm’s attention darted my way but quickly moved back to the others.
“Well, Thomas just ate an ant to get twenty bucks from me,” Will said.
Colette blanched. “Gross.”
“And now, we’re trying to convince two of these lovely ladies to kiss because most of us have gone through over two years in college and have yet to see girls making out. This was promised to us in the college code,” Will said seriously.
Colette snorted. “Pigs, all of you.” But then she leaned forward, cocking her head to the side. “What do the girls get if they do the dare?”
Will shrugged. “Anything. Either girl can ask any of the guys to do a dare and they have to do it.”
“Have all the guys agreed to this?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Will nodded and raised his hand. “Yep. Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a Boy Scout,” I said.
Will kicked my foot and smiled. “Shut up, Bates. Your chick is considering kissing another chick. Don’t distract her.”
She’s not my chick. But I kept that to myself. I had to remember I was straight guy here. The guy this group had known since we were hanging out under the monkey bars in elementary school. In this world, I should want to see two girls kissing.
“I’ll do it,” Colette declared with an offhanded sweep of her hand, like she’d decided to eat chocolate ice cream instead of strawberry. No big deal. “But . . . in return, two of you dudes need to do the same.”
Collective groans rang out over the crackling of the fire. Choruses of No effing way, Disgusting, I’d rather eat another ant came from all directions. I groaned along with them and gave Colette a warning look. Malcolm, though, said nothing. He just shifted on his log, looking as uncomfortable as I’d ever seen him.
Uncomfortable because of me. If this had been two months ago, he would’ve been joining in with all the others, having a good time with it all. But now there was this big, glowing elephant here. And that glowing elephant was me.
“It’s not a big deal,” Malcolm said with a shrug. “If these girls stick to their end of the bargain, I’ll plant one on any of you shitheads. Be the best action most of y’all have seen in months.”
Malcolm’s gaze met mine, and my breathing stalled in my chest. No, no, no. This couldn’t happen. I appreciated the attempt to make it sound like two guys kissing wasn’t a big thing. But I wouldn’t survive watching Malcolm kiss one of these guys. And I definitely couldn’t handle that guy being me. That was Colette’s plan. I could tell by the sneaky smile she sent me. She was far more devious than I’d give her credit for. But nothing would be worse than getting a taste of what could never be. And there’d be no way to hide my reaction if Malcolm put his mouth on mine. Any shreds of friendship we were trying to stitch back together would go up like hay in that bonfire.
Before Colette could find a girl willing to kiss her, I pushed to my feet.
“Where you going, Bates?” Will asked. “Show’s about to start.”
“I’ve got to take a piss,” I said, my heartbeat hopping like a panicked rabbit. “Take video.”
“Come on, stay,” Colette said, grabbing for my hand.
Malcolm was watching it all. I couldn’t deal for another second. “Sorry, can’t.”
If running wouldn’t have been obvious, I would’ve sprinted right then. But somehow, I managed to stroll off toward the barn at a reasonable pace without looking back. Once there, I climbed into the loft—the place where Malcolm and I used to hide when he was supposed to be doing chores. The far corner used to be filled with comic books and dirty magazines and anything we wanted to hide from his mother. I pulled my legs to my chest, laced my hands behind my neck, and rested my forehead on my knees, trying to get my breathing back in check.
Something was going to have to change. I couldn’t keep doing this to myself. Especially now that Malcolm knew. Life had been tortuous before, but it’d be unbearable to live with him now. If I wanted to preserve any part of our friendship, I’d need to move out. And I had to move on. It was time for me to find a real relationship instead of one that only existed in fantasy.
I blew out a breath and unfurled, lying down on the wood. Maybe I just needed room to breathe. Maybe that would help it fade. This was a simply a childhood crush gone wrong. I closed my eyes, feeling more resolute with each passing minute. I would fix this. I had to. Because even though I’d brushed it off earlier today, Malcolm had been right. He was a part of my life, family, someone I couldn’t lose. Having my best friend was worth more than any of it—desire, feelings, sex.
I closed my eyes, feeling more at peace than I had in a long time. This would stop. Decision made.
But the peace didn’t last long.
I’d almost dozed off when I heard heavy booted footsteps along the floorboards. The wood vibrated beneath my back as my visitor moved toward me.
“I know you don’t want to sleep in my room, but at least my place doesn’t smell like horse shit.”
Malcolm’s voice was low in the cavernous space, but the sound reverberated through me like my internal tuning fork had been struck, pulling me from my half-asleep state in an instant. I opened my eyes, the weathered slats of the roof sharpening into focus. “Depends on if you’ve left your gym clothes in there.”
“True that,” he said with a smile in his voice. The boards creaked beneath his feet. “So you missed it. Sweet Colette Stanley French-kissed McKayla for a full thirty seconds. I thought Will’s eyes were going to pop right out of his head. That kid really is sheltered at that Baptist college he’s going to. You can see chicks making out every night at the clubs around our school.”
“So sorry I missed that,” I said dryly. “So where’s McKayla now that’s she’s gotten her girl-on-girl action? Taking my spot in your room?”
“Nah, she went off with Will. I’ve already met my two-girl limit for the week.”
I sighed and pushed myself up to sit. Malcolm had sat as well and was leaning against the wall, his gaze far off. I ran a hand over the back of my head to get any hay out of my hair. “Look, Mal, I’m sorry about the comment earlier today. It was out of line. You can do what you want.”
He shrugged. “You call it like you see it. Can’t blame a guy for that.”
When he didn’t say anything else, I cocked my head toward the window. I didn’t want to know, but I had to ask. “So who’d you end up kissing out there for the greater good?”
“No one would volunteer,” he said wryly. “My ego was shattered, and Colette let me off the hook. Thank God.”
“Yay for small miracles,” I said. “I’d rather eat ants than kiss any of those guys.”
“Yeah?”
I smirked. “Yeah. I may like guys, but I do have some standards.”
Malcolm leaned over and flicked a piece of caked-up dirt from the tip of his boot. He stared down as the flecks of earth scattered across the wood. “So would you have kissed me?”
At first I didn’t think I’d heard him right. He couldn’t possibly be asking me that. But once I rewound the words and replayed it in my head, icy fingers of fear closed around my spine, rendering me unable to move or speak. No, this wasn’t supposed to be how it went. This wasn’t part of the plan. I wasn’t going to tell him this part.
The que
stion hung in the quiet, still air between us.
Malcolm lifted his gaze, meeting my eyes. “I think I need to know the answer, Bates.”
Four
SIRENS WERE GOING off in my head, bells clanging, lights flashing. Abort! Abort! Say no and get the hell out of here!
But I was frozen—a wax museum version of my former self.
Would you have kissed me?
Would you have kissed me?
Would you have kissed me?
The question zoomed around and around in my head, taunting me, as Malcolm watched me, waiting for an answer.
I forced my mouth to form the word. “No.”
Some undefinable expression flickered through his green eyes. He went back to knocking dirt of his boots with his fingers. “How come?”
I blinked. Was he seriously asking me that? “Because we live together. Because you know what all those guys would say if we went through with it—even as a joke. Because you’re my best friend. And you’re straight.”
His jaw twitched, but he didn’t look my way. “You know how many girls I’ve slept with in the last six months?”
I stared at him, utterly confused by this whole line of questioning. Maybe he was drunk. That spiked hot chocolate had been pretty strong. “Hell, Mal, I don’t know. A lot have walked through our dorm room door. Twelve? Maybe more.”
He looked up. “None.”
I scoffed. “Right.”
“I’m serious,” he said, leaning back again. “I’ve made out with a bunch, but nothing more than that.”
He definitely had to be drunk. He was talking nonsense. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I haven’t had sex with anyone since last school year.”
None of this was registering in my brain. Malcolm, notorious player, hadn’t taken a girl to bed in months? “Why not?”
He sighed and pulled out the elastic band securing his hair at the back of his neck. It was a nervous habit I’d seen him do a million times, but somehow it seemed so out of place in this moment. “You remember that Friday night at the end of last semester, right after finals ended? You thought I’d already headed out for the weekend to spend a few days partying in Lafayette, but I’d forgotten my driver’s license?”
I cringed. “Hard to forget.”
That Friday night, I’d thought I was all alone until Monday. I’d had a shitty week and had spent one too many nights thinking about Malcolm in every inappropriate way possible. So I’d locked the door, turned out the lights, and had sat down at my computer. Yeah, you can guess where that went. Lonely guy. Friday night. Endless amounts of every X-rated thing at my fingertips. I’d gone onto a site that I had been on a few times before. The first few visits I’d looked at the photos and videos of all the things I’d only fantasized about, but that night, I’d needed more—some sort of connection that reminded me I wasn’t the only one like this. I’d ended up in a chat with a guy—Derrick362. Things had started off light but had gotten flirty and heated after a while. Derrick had signed off to go work before we went any further than talk. But afterward, I’d been so keyed up, I’d gotten in bed and taken matters into my own hands—or hand, as the case may be.
Of course, that’s when Malcolm had unlocked the door and strolled in looking for his license. The covers hadn’t been over me, so even though it’d been dark, there was no mistaking what I was doing. I’d almost fallen out of the bed, trying to roll over and get myself covered.
Malcolm had played it off like no big deal. Sorry, dude. Didn’t mean to interrupt. A guys’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.
Meanwhile, I’d wished God would just strike me down and save me the mortification. Boom. Dead. That would’ve been better than that moment. Malcolm had left quickly, so I knew he was more uncomfortable than he was letting on, but I hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for a week after. Though that hadn’t stopped me from going to the site again. I’d chatted with Derrick off and on after that, even had confided what had happened that night. He wasn’t out either and was my age, so even though he lived in Minnesota and we never planned to meet, it’d been nice to have someone over the last few months to be myself with . . . and occasionally talk about dirty stuff with. But after that night, I’d learned to keep any self-help sessions in the confines of the shower where no one could interrupt.
“Why are you bringing that up now?” I rubbed the spot in between my eyes, trying to fight off a post-liquor headache. “If it’s anything to you, I’d rather not ever talk about that night again.”
Malcolm’s mouth lifted at the corner, mischief in his smirk. “I’ve never seen you move so fast.”
“Shut up,” I said, feeling my skin heat from the old embarrassment.
His grin faltered. “I never told you the whole truth about that night.”
“What? Let me guess, you took video with your phone and now it’s spread on YouTube?”
“No, but that would’ve been hilarious.”
I sniffed.
“No, the truth is, that night I surprised you,” he said, looking up, all humor gone from his expression. “But you didn’t surprise me. I had a good idea of what I’d walk in on.”
I frowned. “What?”
He rubbed his palms along his jeans, more uncharacteristic nerves. “A few nights before that, I was studying for my poli sci class and I needed to find a news article. My laptop was acting up, so I used yours. I didn’t mean to, but I saw the stuff in your history. I clicked on the sites.”
My skin chilled. “You what?”
“I knew about you way before I followed you to New Orleans,” he said, palms still tracking up and down his thighs in a slow, unconscious tic.
“I don’t understand. You knew since before summer?” The months were flipping through my head like a calendar in a wind gust. All this time . . . he knew? He chose to share a dorm with me again when he knew?
Malcolm blew out a breath and tilted his hips up a bit so he could dig in his pocket. He pulled his phone out, pressed a few things on the screen, then handed it over to me. “Here, you should know.”
I looked down at the phone, the familiar site name at the top of the screen. And in the log-in box, a few simple letters that punched me in the chest and stole all my air—the screen name Derrick362.
No.
No, no, no. The pieces locked together one by one, but I didn’t want to see the finished picture.
“Bates—”
“No,” I said, cutting him off, the word echoing through the rafters. I couldn’t stand to hear him speak right now. Malcolm was Derrick. Derrick. My nails dug into my palm. All this time Malcolm had been what—playing a game with me? Prying into my personal life without permission? Hearing my private fantasies? Talking about . . . Jesus Christ. I really was going to vomit this time.
I tossed the phone into his lap and launched to my feet. I needed to get out of there. Right. Now. “Fuck you, Mal. I hope you’ve had a real good time screwing with me. You always were the better than me at the practical jokes.”
I strode past him, and he jumped to his feet, the phone clattering to the ground. “No. Shit, Bates, wait. That’s not—”
I headed for the ladder that would get me to the first floor and away from this nightmare. I couldn’t even let myself think of all the things I’d talked about with “Derrick.” The flirting. The sex talk. Malcolm must’ve had a good laugh watching me play straight during the day and then confessing all my true desires online.
I put my foot on the first rung, but Malcolm grabbed my biceps, pulling me back onto the loft. I shrugged out of his grip. “Leave me the hell alone.”
“Stop, will you listen to me for a second?” he said, his cheeks flushed. “It wasn’t a goddamned practical joke. After all this time we’ve been friends, you think I’d really mess with you like that for kicks?”
“Then for what?” I challenged, getting in his face, spoiling for a fight. He might bench press more than me but I was just as capable of throwing a punch.
“It’s been six months. Six months of chatting, and you acting none the wiser. You knew and kept it going, kept signing in and talking with me about . . . God, about private shit, Mal. For what? To mess with my head? To punish me for not telling you?”
He put his hands out to his side. “I didn’t know what to say or how to feel. That first night I signed on because I had to know what was going on with you. I needed to make sure you were okay after everything that had happened last fall. But then the chat took a turn, and it scared the shit out of me, Bates. One second I’m talking to the guy I grew up with, trying to figure out what’s going on, and the next I’m thinking about what it’d be like to touch him. I’d never gotten so turned on so fast. I freaked out and bailed that first night. I didn’t know what to do with that . . . reaction. But then I couldn’t stop myself from going back to the room. I needed to know if it had affected you the same way. And when I saw you on the bed, I hated how it made me feel, how my body reacted. I didn’t want to feel that.”
I stared at him. The confession might as well have been delivered in a foreign language. I couldn’t process any of it.
“All my life I’ve been that guy, the one who gets the girls. I liked girls. Still do,” Malcolm said, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “But ever since that first night, I can’t get into it anymore with any of them. I’ve tried to recapture what used to be before I knew about you. You know how my family is. Me liking a guy would be like a death in the family. And God only knows how my teammates would react if they knew. But the only way I can even attempt anything with a girl now is when I’m in the room with you. And it’s not her I’m thinking about.”
I put my hand against a beam to steady myself. Maybe the hot chocolate had been laced with drugs. I was hallucinating. “Mal . . .”
“That night you ended up in the car with that dude from the club, I nearly lost it. I wanted to kill that guy. He could be what you needed. He wasn’t scared. That was the kind of situation you deserved. Not someone like me who was freaking terrified of all this.” Malcolm sagged against the wall and shook his head. “I’m sorry I lied about Derrick. I couldn’t tell you. I’m a goddamned coward.”
Fifty First Times Page 23