"Hey, how much milk do I add?" Seb asked, opening up the carton of UHT milk.
Connor roused himself from his stupor and shook his head. "You've never made porridge?" His words were so normal, so innocent. It was going to be easy to fall into a pattern of denial, alongside his friends. At least, he hoped it was.
"I have, but it always turns out lumpy or too thin. So, how much?"
With a heavy sigh, Connor wandered over and crouched down beside Seb to help him measure out the milk.
"Go with less than you think," he said, a lump forming in his throat as their shoulders brushed against one another. "You can always add more if it seems too thick as it warms up."
"Or lumpy?"
"Yeah, just make sure you stir it well as you add more."
Inside, he was shaking his head at himself. This conversation felt ridiculous. How could cooking porridge be the only thing they had to talk about after what had happened? There was a weird moment where neither of them moved or spoke. Their shoulders were still in contact, and Connor was forced to admit to himself that he didn't want to disconnect. They were both wearing T-shirts and jumpers rather than the masses of layers they'd been wearing the night before, which meant he could feel Seb. He enjoyed the pressure and the warmth radiating off him. It was a sensation he could get used to, if he dared.
The moment passed. Seb cleared his throat and edged away. Connor pushed up to his feet and, without a word, wandered back into the tent to grab his wash bag.
"Don't be too long," Seb said.
Connor grunted out a response, which felt petty and childish, but he didn't trust himself to speak.
He passed Matt on his way up the field. His friend's forehead immediately crumpled in concern.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." Connor sighed. There was no way he could tell Matt the truth. "I'm fine. Just tired and probably slightly hungover."
"I didn't think you'd had that much to drink," Matt mused.
"I don't drink as often as you two," Connor reminded him. "I'm a lightweight in comparison."
Matt raked his teeth over his lower lip. "Do you… want to talk about what happened last night? It's too weird to talk about it with Seb, but I thought you might—"
"No," Connor snapped out. "It was nothing. Seb was drunk. We all were."
Matt looked like he was about to speak, so Connor cut him off.
"If we make things even weirder, it's going to be a really long weekend. So just forget about it, okay? It meant nothing."
He increased his pace, striding away from Matt as fast as he could. If they talked about it, he might betray himself. If he betrayed himself, he'd ruin their friendship forever. And for what? To tell his two best friends that he fancied them but would never actually want to be with them? It wasn't going to happen.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Matt
Matt blew out a whistle as Connor stalked away from him. It wasn't often that Connor got really, truly, pissed, but he obviously was. He stared at his friend's back, wondering if he should go after him. Not that he was sure it would do any good. What exactly would he say? Connor had told him to forget about what had happened. Seb was pretending everything was fine. Was there really any point in forcing either of his friends to talk about it any further? He didn't want to annoy either of them, but his head was well and truly fucked up. He needed to talk about it, even if they didn't.
Matt hadn't processed what he'd done or how he'd felt at the time, let alone how he felt now. He'd known Seb since nursery, which he told himself explained why the kiss had felt right and comfortable. That, and he'd been drunk. He could blame at least ninety per cent of his actions on his inebriated state. Why else would he have stuck his tongue so far down Seb's throat that he could practically tease his tonsils?
"Fuck."
He ran his hands over his cropped hair and clasped them at the back of his neck. That stupid kiss had the potential to blow their friendship up.
"Fuck."
Yeah, he really needed to talk it through with someone. Before he could think better of it, he hurried after Connor, catching him just before he went into the shower blocks.
"Con, can we talk? About last night," he clarified so there was no confusion between them. "I need to get my head straight about it."
Connor stared at Matt for a couple of beats. Then his shoulders slumped, and he nodded. "Sure."
"I can't wrap my head around what happened," Matt admitted. "The kisses, I mean."
"I know what you mean," Connor said quietly.
His expression was pained, signalling to Matt that he really didn't want to talk about it. Like he'd said, it would be a really long weekend if things got any weirder between them. But Matt couldn't just smile and pretend nothing had happened, because Seb had kissed him. He had kissed Seb back. Part of him had liked it, and he wasn't sure how to process that at all.
Matt twisted his fingers together. "You reckon it meant nothing?"
Connor nodded. Matt guessed the action was supposed to look more convincing than it did.
"We were all drunk," Connor reiterated.
"And you're not in the least bit confused or fucked up about it?"
Connor looked away. "No." His verbal reply came too slowly.
"Did it mean something? To you, I mean?" Matt asked.
"No." This time, Connor's reply was too quick. "Did it mean anything to you?"
"No." Matt's response was as quick as Connor's had been. He cleared his throat. "Not really."
They stood in awkward silence. Matt had no clue what to say, and Connor wasn't exactly being forthcoming. In fact, his friend looked utterly miserable, making him want to reach out and touch Connor's arm. Maybe squeeze his shoulder like he'd done so many times before, but he didn't know how such an action would be received, not now. His gut twisted into knots. The fact that the thought had even crossed his mind proved to him that things had changed between the three of them. The landscape of their friendship was very different from hours before because of two drunken kisses.
Fuck.
Why did Seb have to go and kiss them? And as for confessing his love for the pair of them? Half of him wanted to march back to the camp and punch him and the other half— He didn't want to think about what the other half wanted to do if he got his hands on Seb. He'd never thought like that about another man before, and he wanted—no, needed—to push those thoughts down as far as he could. If a pair of drunken kisses had put a strain on their friendship, what the hell would a sober one do?
"I've never kissed a guy before." It was more a statement of fact than a confession. "Have you?" Matt thought he knew the answer.
A very light blush illuminated Connor's cheeks. "Yes." He twisted his toe against the grass. "It didn't go any further."
Matt's jaw went slack. "I… didn't know. I figured you were straight."
Connor looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. "I don't know what I am," he admitted. "I… haven't done much with anyone." His cheeks became redder; his eyes remained fiercely downcast.
"You've had some flings, right?" Matt asked. "One-night stands?"
Connor shrugged. "They didn't go far."
"Oh." Matt's curiosity was piqued, but he decided it wasn't a line of questioning that Connor wanted him to go down. Still, he was surprised by his friend's confession. He'd been convinced Connor had got laid a few times. Maybe he'd been wrong to jump to that conclusion, just because his friend had taken someone home at the end of a night out. "Did you… like kissing Seb?" he asked tentatively, trying to get the conversation back on track. "It looked like you enjoyed it."
Connor's shoulders tensed, and his cheek muscles flexed. "Did you?"
"Umm." Matt twisted his arm over his back to rub his shoulders. He'd invited that question, and he knew it, but he'd hoped Connor would have given his own answer first before throwing it back at him. "Maybe."
Connor puffed his cheeks out.
"Fuck, I don't know," Matt said. "I keep telling myself I d
idn't. I'm not into guys, and kissing my best friend is just fucking weird. But…" he growled and kicked the grass. "I guess I was into it in the heat of the moment, and I don't know what the hell that means."
Connor finally raised his gaze to meet Matt's. "Does it have to mean anything? We were drunk. We got caught up in the moment and Seb's soppiness. This only has to be a problem if we let it."
A problem. Something to come between them.
"Do you think Seb really does love either of us?" Matt asked.
Connor's expression became strained. "No," he said eventually. The corners of his mouth tugged down. "We're friends."
Matt felt a pang of disappointment. "Yeah, you're right. We're friends and nothing more." He forced a grin. "Best friends." He sucked in his lower lip. "But we should clear the air with Seb."
"Over lumpy porridge?" Connor asked, injecting a thread of humour into his wavering voice, even though he looked off colour.
"There's a reason we prefer you to do all the cooking," Matt said with a wink. It was probably a stupid thing to say, but Matt was glad when the smallest of smiles broke out on Connor's lips.
"You're both hopeless," Connor told him.
Matt grinned widely for a couple of seconds and then let his grin fade. "I know you don't want things to be awkward between us, but I think it'll be worse if we don't talk things through. What do you say?"
Connor stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I guess getting things out in the open is for the best." He sighed. "But do you think Seb will want to?"
"I think he'll try to claim he doesn't remember."
"But you think he does?"
"I know he does. Why the fuck else would he be trying to make us all breakfast?"
Connor rolled his eyes. "Good point." He pointed his thumb towards the toilet block. "Give me a few minutes? We can walk back together."
"Sure."
Matt leaned against the wall of the concrete building, trying not to let his thoughts get the better of him. He guessed Connor's mind was whirling the same way. Had the kisses meant something, to any of them? Even if they had, could they go there? If two of them paired off, it would affect their friendship with the third. Matt was definitely seeing himself as the third wheel in that scenario, simply due to Connor's admission that he had kissed a guy before. Even if it hadn't gone any further, it obviously meant his friend was curious about being with guys, unlike him. He'd only ever thought about women in that way. But sitting around whilst Seb and Connor were all loved up was not on his wish list of things to do. It would be weird. And if they broke up, it would be messy as hell. He'd be caught in the middle.
Get a grip, he told himself.
Why the hell were his thoughts running off with him? Christ. It had been a couple of stupid, meaningless kisses. Seb and Connor weren't about to jump into bed together. There was nothing to get worked up about. But he was worked up about the whole thing because he'd never even thought about of kissing a guy, let alone his best friend, who was on the rebound.
Rebound. That's what those kisses had been about. Seb was seeking comfort, and he'd done it in a dumb way.
Fuck.
If Matt could have turned back time and stopped the kisses from ever happening, he would. All he would have needed to do was put his hand up when Seb had leaned in, and laughed the whole thing off. But he hadn't. He'd sat there and let the kiss happen. He'd reciprocated it. He'd enjoyed it. And he'd liked watching Seb kiss Connor. What the fuck did all that say about him? Had he turned into some kind of voyeur overnight? Did he secretly have the hots for one, or both, of his best friends? He turned round and slammed his fist against the wall before leaning his head against it.
Fuck.
CHAPTER NINE
Seb
Any hope Seb had of forgetting what had happened the previous night dissipated when he saw Matt and Connor wandering back across the field with pinched expressions. Even so, he dished out the porridge he'd made into three bowls and held one out with a stupid grin on his face as his friends returned to the camp.
"Breakfast!" he announced proudly, as if making half-decent porridge was his biggest life achievement.
"We should talk," Matt sighed, taking the bowl. He sat in one of the camp chairs.
Connor slumped in another, not looking at either of them.
Seb ran through options in his mind as he gathered up the other two bowls. He could claim he didn't remember but knew it wouldn't wash. He'd been drunk, but not memory-loss drunk. He could brush it off as nothing more than a drunken mistake, except it didn't feel like a mistake. Even now, as he glanced at his friends, he felt something for them he hadn't noticed before. It didn't feel like something new—more something that had always been there, beneath the surface, that he'd simply never recognised or acknowledged. Or if he had, he'd passed it off as extremely close friendship. Of course he wanted to keep them close, protect them and hold them. They were his best friends. But now, with Craig out of the picture, he was starting to realise that his need to do those things was stronger than it should be. He wasn't sure what to make of that or what his friends would think of it. The last thing he wanted to do was push them away. Matt and Connor had been a constant in his life for far too long to ruin their friendship because he might fancy either of them. He swallowed. Or both.
He handed Connor a bowl and then sat in the remaining chair. He and Matt had moved them further away from each other whilst they'd been cleaning up, which was probably for the best. Except the distance felt cavernous. He couldn't reach out to give either of them a friendly punch on the arm, even if he stretched.
"So…" he began.
He opened his mouth to tell them he'd made a mistake and that he was sorry, but the words remained lodged in his throat. They would have been a lie. Instead, he lowered his chin to his chest and shoved a huge spoonful of porridge into his mouth. The consistency was miraculously fine, but it needed something to sweeten it. He waited a couple of beats for either of his friends to speak. When they remained silent, he got up and slipped into the tent, rummaging through the food Connor had packed to find some honey. Connor was nothing if not prepared.
Sitting down again, he squeezed a generous amount into his bowl and then held it out. There was an awkward pause before Connor reached out to take it from him. The distance the chairs were set at meant they both had to half stand so they could reach further. Their fingertips brushed as the bottle was passed between them. Normally, Seb would have barely noticed the contact, but he was suddenly acutely aware of the tingle he felt as their skin and eyes connected. A slight splash of colour warmed Connor's cheeks, and he looked away abruptly, making Seb feel fucking awful.
It didn't get any better when Connor silently passed the honey to Matt. A similar thing happened. Seb found himself fixated on the way his friends' fingers connected at the very tips and the slight pause in the process when that connection happened. When his stare found its way back to Connor's face, he saw that the colour in his friend’s cheeks had deepened. He was trying to conceal it by keeping his face low, but the blush was a beacon of his discomfort or possibly something else…
Seb shifted in his chair and ate more of the porridge. He brushed his musing off as wishful thinking. He was the only one struggling with how he felt about his friends. They were both probably pissed off that he'd crossed a line. Being drunk was no excuse.
They kissed me back. In the heat of the moment, when drunk. He could justify their reciprocation far easier than his own actions. He could forgive what they had done, far more easily than he could forgive himself. In fact, if those two kisses affected their friendship, he wasn't sure he would be able to forgive himself at all. Matt and Connor were two of the most important, steadfast people in his life, and he'd fucked up royally.
"So…" he repeated, still not sure where to start. The apology he felt he should give sat like a stone in his stomach, making each mouthful of porridge taste bitter despite the lashings of honey.
Matt put his barely tou
ched bowl down and splayed his fingers over his thighs. "So," he said in a much more definite tone than Seb. "I think we can agree that we were all drunk and caught up in the moment last night." He inhaled before continuing. "What happened meant nothing. Right?"
Seb stiffened. Matt was giving him a get out of jail free card, but taking it felt like he'd be shutting a door without even looking inside to see what wonderful things awaited him. Equally, what lay beyond the door could be the stuff of his worst nightmare: the all too tangible possibility of losing his two best friends.
He said nothing, waiting to see what Connor's reaction would be. He guessed Matt and Connor had already had a conversation about what had happened. Had they agreed that talking about it long enough to sweep it back under the carpet was the best way of dealing with it? As the seconds ticked by, he studied Connor's face carefully. His friend looked hopelessly conflicted and confused. His eyebrows and mouth settled in a stern line one second before quivering into indecision the next.
Matt shifted in his chair. "Guys?" he asked. "That's what happened, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Connor said at last as he rubbed the back of his neck.
Matt looked to Seb. His eyes were wide and pleading, as though he needed Seb's agreement so they never had to talk about it again. It was definitely the easiest course of action, so why did it feel so wrong? He sucked in a breath. If it were what his friends needed to hear, he'd say it.
"I was off my head. I'm sorry I did something stupid." He popped a massive spoonful of porridge into his mouth, giving himself a chance to think whilst Matt and Connor digested his words. "I'm sorry if I've made things weird between us."
It felt like there was a shared sigh of relief, even though none of them made a sound.
"I'm going to take a walk after breakfast," he announced. "There’s some longer trails I thought we could explore." For some reason, his throat felt tight. "That is, if either of you want to come."
He half expected them both to say no. Maybe some time alone, in their own headspace, would be a good idea.
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