Cross the Line

by Becca Steele

  The silence stretched uncomfortably. My mind flashed to my ex back in the US, and how the football team had taken the news that he was gay.

  Fuck.

  Before my thoughts spiralled into panic, Carter finally broke the silence, his eyes on mine, full of sincerity. “I’ve got your back. You want me to tell the team?”

  My relief was instant. “I’ll tell them. Do you… Do you think anyone will have a problem?”

  His expression hardened. “If they have a problem, they’ll have to fucking go through me. If anyone gives you a hard time, anyone, you come straight to me, okay? And if you want me to be there when you tell them, I will.”

  “Thanks, man. My ex…he, uh. His teammates didn’t take it well when he came out to them. I’d appreciate it if you were there when I tell the others.” I gave him a small smile.

  “Consider it done. Most of the boys are sound, but I won’t lie and say it’ll be an easy ride. I’ll be around to deal with anyone who gives you problems, though. We’re a team.” He rose to his feet and headed around the table to me. Placing a hand on my shoulder, he added, “Whenever you want to tell them, I’ll be there.”

  I nodded my thanks, and we headed back inside. “Thanks for being cool with it,” I murmured, then cast around for a change of subject. “Speaking of thanks, I never said thanks for organising the party.”

  My idea to belatedly celebrate Kian’s and my birthdays was going ahead, and we’d roped in Ben, another guy on the soccer team, since his birthday was coming up. Kian and Carter had taken on the organisation, and I was happy to let them sort it all out. I didn’t care what we did—all I cared about was putting a smile on Kian’s face, and to show him that despite his parents’ neglect, there were people that cared about him and wanted to celebrate with him.

  “You’re welcome.” Carter gave me a quick grin as we reached our table. The sound of the bell to indicate the end of lunch hour swallowed up anything else I was going to say, and there was a flurry of activity as everyone grabbed their bags and headed to their respective classes.

  “How did it go?” Kian asked me in a low voice as we made our way out of the cafeteria.

  “Good. Better than I hoped.”

  “Good.” He curled the tip of his finger over mine, his touch so brief that it was almost like I’d imagined it, before he was gone, swallowed by the crowd of students.

  13

  Lying on my bed, I scrolled through my phone, willing the time to go more quickly. Pausing on the message from my teammate Ben, I read through his words again, before tapping out a response.

  Ben: Appreciate ur bravery today bro. It sucks that it should even be an issue but u never know how much speaking out will help someone else. Wish my cousin had someone like u around when he was at school

  Me: I wish he had too. No one should have to struggle on their own. I appreciate your support. It means a lot

  He sent me a thumbs-up emoji in reply, and I smiled, thinking back to earlier.

  “Ready?” Carter spoke in a low voice, and I nodded. Standing in the locker room in front of the soccer team, with all eyes on me after Carter’s call for everyone’s attention, the nerves returned in full force.

  “You’ve got this.” Kian’s voice was barely a whisper, only for my ears, and it bolstered me. Flanked by two of the three kings of Alstone High, I cleared my throat, then spoke up.

  “Hi. I, uh. We’re a team, and I want…I want to be open and honest with you guys.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat again. “I’m—I’m gay. Always have been. I just wanted to get it out there, in the interests of transparency.”

  Carter cut in as I finished stumbling over my words. “I want to make it clear that any kind of backlash, or homophobic slurs, or any behaviour that gives Preston cause for concern will not be tolerated. You have any issue, you come to me. Okay?” He stared at the players in front of us, and from my other side I felt Kian, broody and intimidating, his hard gaze daring anyone to have an issue with me.

  My teammate Ben caught my eye. “I’m only concerned with the fact that Preston still refers to football as ‘soccer.’” He gave me a friendly wink, smiling, and I returned his smile hesitantly. With that, the tension in the room was broken, and I could breathe again.

  “Proud of you.” Kian’s hand brushed over my back in a light, fleeting touch, as he murmured low in my ear. “You okay?” he asked in a slightly louder voice.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” I was surprised to find that I meant it.

  There had been some ribbing, as expected, and I had noticed a few of the guys making a point to stay away from me, particularly in the locker room, but on the whole, I couldn’t have asked for more. It was a weight off my mind, and I felt so much lighter. My only regret was that I hadn’t said anything sooner.

  My phone sounded, Kian’s nickname appearing on the screen.

  Delinquent: Should I take out my lip ring?

  Me: NO. Why would you?

  Delinquent: Want to make a good impression

  Me: Just be yourself and they’ll love you

  Delinquent: Is it too late to change my mind?

  Me: It’s going to be fine. Promise

  He didn’t reply, but fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at the front door. I’d already instructed my mom to let me answer it, and when I threw it open, I found Kian on the front step, chewing on his lip ring, with a bunch of flowers in fall colours clasped in his hands.

  The temperature rose about thirty degrees as I drank him in. Man, he was so damn hot. He’d styled his usually messy hair, and he had on black jeans and a collared deep green shirt that made his eyes look brighter and even more striking than usual, fringed by his dark lashes.

  I swallowed hard, willing my dick not to react to him, because…my parents were here.

  “Aww, you brought me flowers,” I teased, because if I didn’t do something to break the tension, I was likely to maul him in the hallway.

  “Funny.” His tone was dry, but I could hear the shake in his voice that he was trying to hide. My stomach did that flipping thing that it kept doing when he was around, and I moved closer.

  “I’m trying to get my mind off the fact that I want to get you naked, right here with my mom and dad in the next room.” I trailed my lips across his ear, and he shuddered.

  “You’d better stop that right now, Golden Boy. I can’t meet your parents with a hard-on.”

  I heard the desperation in his voice, and I winced. “Sorry. You drive me crazy. The way you look right now…” Composing myself, I took a conscious step back and met his eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You didn’t.” He blew out a heavy breath. “I’m just really fucking nervous, and I want it to go well. I’ve never met anyone’s parents before. I mean, not as the new boyfriend.”

  “Never?”

  He shook his head, and I ran my hand down his arm reassuringly. “I promise they’ll love you.” We headed into the kitchen, where my mom was putting the finishing touches to the salad she was making to go with the lasagne cooling on the side of the stove. She looked up as we entered, a warm smile spreading across her face.

  “You must be Kian.” She rounded the counter towards us, and Kian handed her the flowers, giving her a nervous smile that made me step closer to him, needing to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. “Oh, my. Flowers. And such beautiful colours, too.” Taking the bouquet, her smile grew wider, and Kian relaxed, his shoulders losing their stiffness.

  He licked his lips, then cleared his throat. “Thank you for having me.”

  Surprising him, she stepped forwards, placing the flowers down and pulling him into a hug. “You’re more than welcome. I’m so happy to finally meet the boy my son won’t stop talking about.”

  “Mom.” I groaned as she released Kian, before returning her attention to the flowers.

  As she shooed us away, I pretended to ignore the smirk he tossed my way as he leaned close to me, lowering his voice. “Won’t s
top talking about me, hey?”

  “Shut up.”

  He laughed as we took a seat at the kitchen table. My dad came strolling in a moment later, stopping dead when he saw Kian seated at the table with me.

  “Kian Courtland, I presume?”

  Kian flew out of his seat, spinning to face my dad. “Uh, yes, sir.”

  My dad laughed, clasping his hand briefly. “No need to be so formal. Call me Mr. M.” He grinned at Kian. “I think it may seem a little weird for you to call me Preston, hmm?”

  “Dad, please,” I groaned. “It’s not like he’s going to get us mixed up.”

  Taking a seat across from us, he shot me a wink, before turning back to Kian. “It’s good to meet you, son. Preston won’t stop talking about you.”

  “That’s what I told him,” my mom shouted from the stove, and I buried my face in my hands.

  “Can you two please stop embarrassing me?”

  Kian joined in the laughter, and I raised my head to find his green eyes sparkling with amusement as he looked at me. I shrugged off my embarrassment. If he was happy, then that was all that mattered to me.

  After that, it was easy. My dad got Kian talking about soccer, and we fell into a light-hearted discussion about the US international team’s performance in a recent friendly game. As we ate, my mom peppered Kian with anecdotes about my time growing up, and he drank all the information in with a permanent grin on his face.

  Once dinner was over and my mom and dad were settled in front of the TV, we finally escaped to my room. My parents were cool with me having my boyfriend in my bedroom, although I wouldn’t put it past my mom to drop in unannounced.

  Kian threw himself onto my bed, and I lay next to him, content to have him here. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I trailed my fingers up his arm.

  “Your parents are great.” A wistful look came into his eyes, and I knew he was thinking about his own parents.

  “You’re great. They loved you.” Leaning forwards, I nipped at his jaw.

  “You’re lucky to have them.” His voice was quiet, and he rolled over, burying his face in the crook of his elbow.

  “Kian…” I ran my hand over his back, his body tense underneath my palm.

  “Why don’t they want to know me?”

  The pain in his voice cut me deep. “Come here.” He shifted so he was lying half across me, half on the bed, his leg draped over mine and his face buried in the crook of my neck. “Listen to me, right now.” When he raised his head, shifting so we were level, I reached up and grasped his chin, running my thumb over his light stubble. “You’re awesome. You make me…” Unable to articulate exactly how he made me feel, I simply said, “They’re idiots.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed, then lowered his head to mine. “Thanks.”

  Before he could kiss me, I slid out from under him and headed over to my door, flipping the lock. Kian rolled onto his back, staring at me, his eyes darkening as I rejoined him, crawling up his body. “Remember what I said earlier?” I grasped the hem of his shirt, pushing it up to reveal the ridges of his abs.

  “That you wanted to get me naked?” He raised a brow, smirking, but his voice was hoarse as he stared down at me.

  “Yeah.” I flicked open the button of his jeans. “We’ll have to be careful, and I can’t get you naked like I want, but…” My hand lowered. “Think you can keep quiet when I do this?” Easing his jeans and boxers down, I grasped his thick, hard length in my hand, running my thumb over the precum at the tip. His hips bowed off the bed, and he threw his hand over his mouth, muffling his groan. Leaning back, I undid my own jeans, freeing my cock and running my hand up and down the length.

  “Get over here.” Lifting his hand, he reached for me.

  “Mmm. I like your thinking.” As I lined my body up with his, I claimed his mouth in a deep kiss, rolling my hips to create more friction between us.

  With a gasp, he arched up off the bed, gripping my ass and moving his hips against mine, swallowing my moans with his mouth. “Preston.” His gaze was heavy lidded, his lips swollen from our kisses. “This feels so good.”

  I tugged his lower lip between my teeth, before releasing it and moving my mouth to his ear. “You—”

  “Preston! Cake?”

  “Fuck!” Kian bucked me off, frantically pulling up his jeans as my mom’s voice sounded from the bottom of the stairs. I couldn’t help laughing at his panicked expression even as I raced to pull up my own jeans.

  “Cockblocked by your parents.” Slightly calmer now we were both clothed, Kian sat up on my bed, shaking his head at me.

  Leaning forwards, I ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and placed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m happy that I got to introduce you to them at last, but there are definitely some disadvantages.”

  He lunged forwards to nip at my jaw, sending us tumbling backwards onto the bed, him on top of me. “You can make it up to me when we’re alone.”

  “I’ll more than make it up to you,” I promised, as he trailed kisses across my face, pressing his hips into mine.

  “Kian. You’re killing me.” My arms tightened around his body. All I wanted was to lose myself in him.

  But I couldn’t. Not now.

  Reluctantly, we broke apart, taking a moment to adjust ourselves and straighten our clothes, to try and make it look less obvious that we’d been messing around on my bed together. I held out my hand to him. “Come on. Let’s go back downstairs, since we can’t be trusted to be alone together without me wanting to jump on you. I think we have chocolate cake?”

  Taking my hand, he leaned into me, giving me one final kiss before I unlocked and opened the door.

  “It’s a poor substitute for your cock, but I guess it’ll do for now.”

  I laughed, tugging him out of the room. Pausing at the top of the stairs, I turned to him, meeting his gaze. “You know I want you for more than just your body, right?”

  A crooked smile lifted the corners of his lips. “I know. Same.” He squeezed my hand. “Come on. Feed me cake and tell me more about your life growing up in the US. I want to know everything.”

  “Deal.”

  14

  DECEMBER

  “Dad?” I stopped dead in the kitchen, seeing him sitting at the table, studying the newspaper in front of him, a mug of coffee in his hand. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here.” He spoke brusquely without even bothering to look up from his paper. Yeah, but you’re never here was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed the words. Setting his coffee down, he turned the page of his newspaper. “No more temper tantrums lately. I’m almost disappointed in you.” Now his eyes flicked to mine as his harsh words taunted me.

  I balled my fists at my side, and I noticed his own were clenched, white-knuckled against the table. He hadn’t hit me since I discovered an aptitude for fighting and fought back against him when I was fifteen, but I knew the urge was always there. The asshole disliked the fact I existed, and as far as he was concerned, out of sight was out of mind.

  Instead of replying, I turned to walk out of the kitchen, when his voice stopped me in my tracks. “I trust you’re over your little experiment.”

  Spinning round to look at him, I counted to five in my head before I replied. “What experiment?”

  “The boyfriend.” He spoke the words with distaste. This was the first time I’d spoken to my dad in person since Fright Night, and he wasn’t even bringing up the fact that Preston and I had smashed the fuck out of his Bentley. No, all he was concerned with was my relationship with Preston.

  “Sorry to disappoint. He’s still around.”

  His eyes narrowed. “He’s not welcome in my house. When will you come to your senses and get over this little phase?”

  The only thing stopping me from raising my own fists to him was the thought of Preston. “I’m bisexual, Dad. It’s not a fucking phase.” Gritting my teeth, I spun on my heel and left him fuming behind me.

  The only person I needed r
ight now was my boyfriend. It was our joint party tonight, but it was still early, and I needed to see him. Stalking through the house and into the garage, I threw open my car door and slid inside.

  Fuck. I slammed my hand down on the steering wheel. Dragging my phone from my pocket, I texted Preston.

  Me: Need you

  Golden Boy: What’s up?

  Me: My dad

  Golden Boy: Meet at the warehouse? I’ll leave now

  Me: I’ll pick you up

  Golden Boy: OK. Hold on. I got you

  Without wasting any more time, I gunned the engine and roared out of the garage and away from the house, towards the only person I wanted to see.

  The large warehouse owned by our mate Mack provided the backdrop for what was proving to be an epic party. Smoke pumped around the cavernous interior, neon lights pulsed in time to the music, and the DJ worked the crowd into a frenzy. Out the back, we’d set up a chill-out zone—a shipping container we’d filled with seating and dim lighting, and a paint run where people tried to avoid getting hit by paint bombs as they ran through the course. Mack’s idea, rather than mine, but I’d taken the credit.

  Bottle of beer dangling from my fingers, I leaned against the wall of the shipping container, my eyes on Preston as he made his way over to me with a tray of paint in his hand. We’d been in here for a while, but most of our friends had disappeared now, back in the warehouse either dancing or running around in LED masks, pelting unsuspecting people with paint bombs.

  As he reached me, he leaned in close, his eyes dark in the dim lighting. “Ready for me to mark you?” He’d been decorating faces and even bodies for half the evening, smearing neon colours across skin, while I’d watched him, mesmerised, unable to tear my gaze away.