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

by Siobhan Davis

  Austen grins, staring at me with respect and some indecipherable emotion, and I swoon on the inside. My eyes flit to his mouth, very briefly, and I wonder what it would be like to kiss him. To feel those plump lips wrap around my cock and—

  Crushing on a taken, straight guy is not cool, Keaton.

  I need to get with the program and stop fantasizing about someone I have zero chance of being with.

  Forcing myself to concentrate on the here and now, not on the imaginary porno playing out in my head, I blink, focusing on the guy standing in front of me. Except Austen is staring at my mouth, doing nothing to disguise that fact.

  Blood travels south, and my cock twitches to life behind my jeans.

  Not fucking now.

  I will honestly die if I sprout a boner in front of him just because he’s looking at my lips. My chest heaves as I watch him watching me, and I wish I was more experienced because I don’t know if this means something or nothing at all.

  Austen jerks his head up abruptly, taking a step back. Tension is so thick it’s almost a tangible substance. My heart pounds behind my rib cage, and blood rushes to my head, making me lightheaded.

  “Nolan is a fucking asshole,” Austen admits, his voice sounding hoarse. “And he has zero filter. Just ignore him if he says anything.”

  I clear my throat, rubbing the back of my head. “Duly noted.”

  I follow Austen inside, and the noise of the crowd elevates to ear-shattering proportions when they notice their wide receiver is in the house. Austen gets swallowed up by the masses and I plunge into the crowd, scanning the room until I find my friends.

  “Here.” Mol hands me a red cup. “It’s warm and cheap as shit, but it’s all they’ve got.”

  “As long as it has an alcohol count, it’ll do.” I drain half the cup in one go, and Mol is right, it’s nasty, but I’m sure it’ll do the trick.

  For the first time, I understand why Kent turns to alcohol to handle shit in his life. I don’t know what stuff he’s dealing with, because he never opens up, but I get the appeal now. I want to drink until I’m in that blank space where my brain stops reminding me of the mess I’ve made of my life.

  “Come dance with me,” Mol says, grabbing my elbow. I knock back the rest of my beer, handing the empty cup to Kate. She’s pressed in close to Seb, whispering something in his ear, and I wonder if she has plans to finally make a move.

  Seb is completely oblivious to her infatuation in a way I hope Austen is with mine.

  Mol leads me across the room into the middle of the lively crowd dancing to the hypnotic beats bouncing off the walls. We dance for a few songs before I need to take a piss. She returns to the guys as I make my way to the bathroom.

  I’m on my way back when I’m accosted. The guy’s shoulders are almost the width of the door he’s blocking. It wouldn’t be hard to tell he’s a football player from his physique, but I made it a point to study all their names when Austen and I first formed a friendship, so I know who he is.

  “Hey. It’s Keaton? Right?”

  I nod. “And you’re Nolan.”

  “You’ve heard of me.” He beams like Keaton Kennedy knowing your name is something to celebrate.

  “Austen has mentioned you.”

  His smile stretches as he steps out of the way, wrapping his large arm around my shoulders. “That’s my man. So, I know you’re helping him out, but you got any love in your heart for his buddy? I could sure use a leg up, if you know what I mean.” He winks, and I puke in my mouth a little.

  Is this guy for real? I know he doesn’t mean the sexual innuendos because Nolan is as straight as a plank of wood, but he couldn’t be any cheesier or any blunter if he tried. No wonder Austen wanted to leave this place if all his football buddies are as dense as this guy.

  I’ve only met Colton Barnes, and it was a brief meeting, but I know he’s a decent guy because Austen wouldn’t be tight with him if he wasn’t. But the jury is out on everyone else on the team.

  I shuck out from under Nolan’s arm, turning to face him. “The only way I helped Austen was offering him a room at my place when he needed somewhere quieter to live. That’s the extent of it, man. So, whatever you’ve heard, it’s wrong. I don’t have those kinds of connections.”

  His smile is quickly replaced with a scowl. “He warned you off me, didn’t he?”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t have any sports contacts. Sorry, man.” Turning around, I walk off, because I don’t want to get into it with a guy who could crush me just by sitting on me.

  Austen strides across the room, a look of fierce determination on his face, and it’s a lot like watching Moses part the Red Sea. Everyone automatically moves out of his way, leaving a clear path for him to reach me. I watch his long legs eat up the distance between us, and it’s impossible not to notice how sexy he is in his tight-fitting black jeans and short-sleeved black Henley.

  I am so screwed, because this attraction isn’t fading anytime soon.

  It’s only growing stronger.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Austen

  “You okay?” I ask Keats the second I reach him. The instant I spotted Nolan at his side I was on the move. I don’t trust that dipshit around anyone, especially not Keaton.

  An amused grin spreads across his delectable mouth. “It’s cute you think I need you to ride to the rescue, but I’m a grown-ass man. I can take care of myself.”

  “Duly noted.” I enjoy throwing his words back at him and the slow scowl replacing the amusement on his face. “Come meet my other buddies. If only to prove not everyone is an idiot.”

  I introduce him to the guys, glad Alan has gravitated to Nolan’s side, and they’re currently engaged with a couple jersey chasers. With any luck, they’ll disappear upstairs. Since I’ve moved out, I’ve realized a lot of my issues living here stemmed from those two guys.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I’m tempted to ignore it when I see Mom’s name flashing across the screen. But she usually only calls me once a week—every Friday night so my family can wish me luck for the game—and the fact she’s calling this late on a Saturday means something’s up. I gesture to Colton, asking him with my eyes to watch out for Keats, before dashing outside where it’s quieter.

  There’s a gang sitting out on the chairs at the back of the yard, so I walk to the corner of the house, leaning against the brick wall as I return her call. Mom picks up on the second ring.

  “Austen. It’s Mom. Can you put Gia on the line, please.”

  Shit. I think fast. “We’re at a party, Mom, and she’s in the bathroom. I’ll get her to call you back.”

  “Get her to call home. Her mother’s been calling her for hours, and she’s not picking up.”

  All the tiny hairs lift on the back of my neck. I hope the only reason Gia isn’t answering is because she can’t, and not because something or someone is stopping her from picking up. “What’s going on?”

  “Kendall was in a car accident earlier today. She’s been rushed to the hospital, and Anne is frantic with worry. She wants Gia to come home.” Mom and Anne, Gia’s mom, have been best friends since they were two, and they’re as close as sisters.

  Fuck. That’s rough. Kendall is Gia’s fifteen-year old sister, and her only sibling. “Is it serious?” I hate thinking of anything happening to Kendall, because it’d be like something happening to Charlotte. My only sister is thirteen, and I would die if anything happened to her.

  “We don’t know yet. The last call I had from Anne she said Kendall was in surgery and they were waiting for an update from the doctor.”

  “Keep me posted, and I’ll send Gia home on the next flight.” I hope to fuck I can get through to her; otherwise, I may have to fly to Kansas tonight to hunt her ass down.

  “Do you want me to book a flight for her?” Mom offers.

  “No. I might need to book an Uber too if the next flight is out of San Fran, so it’s best if I handle it.”

  �
��Okay, honey.” There’s a short pregnant pause. “When are you coming home? We hardly ever see you anymore. Just once, it might be nice for Gia if she wasn’t the one traveling.”

  Not this shit again. “Mom, you know I have games every Saturday. It’s why Gia travels to me. It’s why I can’t come home until Thanksgiving.”

  “Everyone asks about you all the time. I know it would be great if you could come back. Maybe attend one of your brother’s games. That would mean a lot to him.”

  Guilt twists my stomach into knots. I hate missing Orwell’s games. He attended every one of my football games when I was in high school, but here’s the thing—Orwell couldn’t give a shit about basketball. He plays it for fun. He has no intention of playing basketball in college after he graduates next year. I know Mom knows this. Orwell doesn’t mince his words, but she still loves sticking the knife in any chance she gets, and I’m sick of it.

  Even if I wasn’t lying to her about Gia, I still wouldn’t be able to make it home more regularly. There literally isn’t time. Dad understands, and I know he’s tried talking to her, but it doesn’t seem to register in her brain.

  “Mom, you know I’d be there if I could. Orwell gets it. And I’ll be home for Thanksgiving. I promise.” I rub a tense spot at my brow. “I’d better go find Gia. I’ll talk to you later.” I don’t give her time to reply, hanging up straightaway.

  “Is everything okay?” Keaton asks at my back, and I silently curse.

  I turn around, facing him. His brows are pinched, his face awash with concern and confusion. “How much did you hear?” I ask.

  “Enough.”

  I nod. “I can explain, but not here, and I need to leave.”

  “I already called an Uber. Go wait for it at the curb while I let the guys know we’re leaving.”

  I try Gia as I walk around the side of the house, past the spot where I found Keats comatose, striding through the front yard, heading toward the car that has just pulled up at the curb. She doesn’t pick up, so I try her again.

  Racing footsteps thud behind me as Keats catches up.

  We both slide in the back seat, and Keats talks to the driver while I call Gia repeatedly.

  The car takes off, and I lean my head back against the headrest, willing Gia to pick the fucking phone up. Where the fuck is she?

  Keats is quiet, casting troubled glances in my direction every couple of minutes, but he doesn’t interfere, and I’m grateful for his calm patience.

  After the tenth fucking call, she finally picks up. “Where are you?” I ask, working hard to maintain an even tone.

  “At a party,” she yells down the phone, and I lift the cell away from my ear before she bursts my damn eardrum. “It’s fucking epic. You should come, Woody.” She titters. “Oh my God. That sounded so wrong.” She laughs like a hyena, and acid crawls up my throat.

  “Are you high?” I grit out in a clipped voice.

  “High on life, dude. S’all good.”

  “Gia, I need you to get your shit together and call your mom.” I hate telling her this when she’s high as a fucking kite, but she needs to get her ass on a plane stat. “Kendall’s been in a car accident, and you need to get to the hospital.”

  “Shit, what? Is she okay? Oh my God.” She bursts out crying, and I can’t make any sense of what she’s saying.

  “Who is this?” a man with a gruff voice roars down the phone, and my free hand clenches at my side.

  “Hendrix, this is Austen. I need you to get Gia on a plane ASAP. She needs to get to the hospital.”

  “Shit, man. I can’t put her on a flight in her current state. I’ll make sure she gets on the first flight in the morning.”

  I grind my teeth to the molars. I hate this asshole. “She needs to get on a plane now. Her sister has been in a car accident. I don’t know how serious it is. Just go with her. Take care of her until she lands.” He knows not to show up at the hospital. Not if he values breathing.

  “Aw, fuck, man.” The noise of the party rages in the background. “Okay. I’ve got this.” He hangs up, and I’ve got zero confidence in the dude, but there’s nothing more I can do.

  “He sounds like a complete fuckwad,” Keaton says, breaking the silence in the car, and I throw back my head, laughing heartily.

  “You’re a good judge of character,” I say, as the Uber pulls up in front of our apartment building. Keaton pays on his phone, and we get out. We don’t talk as we take the elevator to the top level, but I know he’ll have questions, and I’m prepared to give him answers.

  We both change into drawstring pants and light sleep shirts, reconvening in the living area a few minutes later. Keaton hands me a bottle of water as he settles into his favorite chair. “Hit me with it,” I say, uncapping my water and slowly tipping the cold liquid into my mouth.

  “Who is Gia to you?”

  I pull my feet up onto the couch, draping my arms over my bent knees. “She’s my best friend from back home. Her mom and my mom have been best friends since they were in diapers. They married two guys who were best friends and moved in beside one another. I’ve grown up with her family like an extension of my own.”

  “Really?” He quirks a brow.

  “Yup.” I grin. “Couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.”

  “That’s...kinda cool.”

  I snort out a laugh. “Sometimes, it felt like I had two sets of parents. Definitely not cool. Trust me.”

  Especially after I came out.

  “Why does everyone think Gia is your girlfriend?”

  That one’s a little harder to explain. I want to give him the full truth, but then he’ll be a part of the big secret, and I already know Keaton is harboring big enough secrets of his own.

  I don’t want to add to his burden; I only ever want to lighten his load.

  So, I give him the part of the truth I can admit.

  “Our parents’ greatest wish is to see Gia and me married. We’ve been super close since we were kids, but it’s never been anything more than friendship. For both of us.” I take a swig of my water, hating that I have to fudge the truth, because it’s not who I am.

  I hate how one lie has triggered so many others. How lying has become too commonplace now in my world. For a guy who has always prided himself on being authentic and true to himself, this really kills me.

  Keats patiently waits me out, and it’s one of the things I really like about the guy.

  “She’s dating this guy,” I continue.

  “Hendrix,” Keats blurts, letting me know he heard the entire phone conversation. It wouldn’t be hard with how loud those two were shouting.

  I nod. “Gia is dating Hendrix, and her parents hate him. Like truly hate him with a capital H.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with him besides him having an unfortunate first name.”

  I chuckle. “There is nothing unfortunate about it. The guy changed his name to that.”

  Keats’ mouth drops open, and I chuckle again. “Getting the picture now?”

  “Somewhat.”

  “He went to our high school, but he was two years older than us. Gia is gorgeous, and she caught his eye. They’ve been hot and heavy since she was fifteen. Gia’s dad caught them fucking in the back of his truck when she was only sixteen, and he blew a gasket. He couldn’t do anything about it, except forbid her from seeing him.”

  “Not that that stopped Gia,” Keats surmises.

  “That only spurred her on. She’s been seeing the guy on and off since she was fifteen. It’s caused huge tension in her family, and it came to a head when he was arrested at nineteen for drug possession. He got off on a technicality, but as far as Gia’s parents are concerned, the guy is only going to drag her down. They told her they’d withdraw their support for college if she didn’t stop seeing him.”

  “So, you pretended to date her while she continued seeing him in secret,” he adds, connecting the dots.

  I nod.

  “Shit, man. That’s rough on you.”
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  “Not really.” He doesn’t know it served a purpose for me too. “It’s not like I have time for dating.”

  “Both sets of parents will be so mad when they find out.”

  I shrug. “Let them be mad. If Gia’s parents hadn’t interfered, I think she might’ve broken away from him by now. Instead, all they’ve done is push her closer to him.”

  And after tonight, I’m realizing how badly I’ve screwed up too. Gia is a free spirit. A believer that you should be able to live your life however you want to live it. She’s never been into peer pressure or following trends just to be cool. Art means the world to her, and getting her art degree is everything. I’ve never known her to take drugs, although she doesn’t judge anyone who does. I’ve never worried about that possibility even if she was hanging around with that lowlife.

  It’s clear I’ve underestimated the power he has over her.

  And how much I really know my best friend.

  Because the Gia I know and love would never take drugs.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Keaton

  Austen is already planted at the island unit when I wander into the kitchen the following morning. He’s up at five a.m. most mornings, but it’s unusual to find him awake before me on a Sunday. “You’re up early,” I remark, opening one of the overhead cupboards to remove a mug.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” he admits, lifting his head from his laptop.

  “Is there any news from home?” I inquire, pouring coffee into my mug.

  Putting his pen down on his pad, he scrubs his hands down his face. “Kendall is going to be okay. She broke her leg and her arm, but she’ll make a full recovery.”

  “That’s good.” I eye him carefully. A muscle ticks in his jaw and his shoulders are locked up tight. “So why do you look like someone just kicked your puppy?”

  He exhales heavily, rubbing at his eyes. Dark shadows bruise the skin under his eyes, but even tired, Austen is still the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen. “Gia got there a couple hours ago, and Mom ripped me a new one for letting her on a plane in that condition.”