by Crow, Baylin
"You know I don't care, right?" I replied, rolling my head to the side to study him and found him already facing me. "Does it bug you?"
He rolled his eyes. "I don't expect everyone to like me, Rook."
That was stupid. What was there not to like about Noah?
Before I could argue that point, a group of giggling girls tumbled onto the boat, making a lot of noise. I recognized one of the voices and cursed under my breath as I caught sight of Wendy headed my way.
Leaning over me, her shadow blocked the sun and a stream of water dripped from her long mocha-brown ponytail onto my chest, feeling more like ice than the warm waters of the lake.
Her gaze raked over me, something that might have gotten a reaction at one point if she hadn't damn near stalked me for most of senior year. "Jake said you aren't coming over after."
"Jake should be a news anchor," I muttered, and Noah laughed. "Sorry, Wen. I have shit to do."
"Just for a little bit?" she persisted, pursing her pink lips in a pout.
"I'm not really up for it." What I'd told Jake was the truth. I planned to crash as soon as Noah and I got home.
"I'll see you again before you leave for college, right?" She placed her dainty hand on my bare chest, and I gently removed it.
"Maybe." But not if luck was on my side.
"Rook…" She sighed with exasperation.
"Come on, Wen," her friend called, saving me from a pointless battle of wills. "Let's do shots before we go."
With a huff, she stalked away, leaving us alone again.
"You can go if you want," Noah said casually.
My eyebrows scrunched together as I met his eyes. "Why? Do you want to go?"
He shrugged. "Not particularly. I said you. Not me."
"Nah, I'm tired. I just want to stuff my face with my mom's leftover baked potato soup and snooze for the rest of summer."
"You're not going to get an argument from me.” Noah patted his stomach. “I love that stuff."
I cocked a brow. "Who said you're getting any?"
"Your mom did, when she was cooking it last night. She specifically told you not to eat it all and save some for me."
I hummed in response.
She had. My mom had latched onto Noah like a second son the moment she met him shortly after Noah's twelfth birthday party. They'd only grown closer when Noah's mom started dating a few years ago, and he spent more time at my house than his own. Now that his mom was engaged and her fiancé had moved in, Noah rarely left my house at all. The guy seemed decent enough, but Noah was still wary of him. He worried things wouldn’t work out and, like his dad had done, this guy would bail without warning.
The noise on the boat grew louder as the group readied to leave.
Reluctantly, I sat up with another yawn and stretched my arms over my head. I blinked away the dark spots left by the blinding light and rose to my feet, crossing the deck and knocked Noah's legs from the bench.
"The hell?" he grumbled and slowly shifted upright.
"Scoot over. We're leaving." I waited for him to move before taking the vacated spot beside him.
We were quickly surrounded by too many people trying to squeeze into crowded seats. The engine roared to life, gurgling beneath the surface and slowly picked up speed, skipping over the glinting waves toward the dock.
* * *
My rusty car needed to be cleaned worse than usual. The sand and gravel that littered the floorboards would probably fill a small bucket. But I had no intention of doing anything about it today.
We left the old beater, and with sluggish steps, headed for the garage door of my weathered house that led into the kitchen.
"I'm fucking hungry," I said as we kicked off our frayed flip flops just inside the door. On cue, my stomach rumbled.
“Starving,” Noah agreed. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a full plastic tub like he owned the place. Cracking open the lid, he groaned. "Your mom should open her own restaurant, I swear."
"Never going to happen. She loves the whole homemaker thing.” I opened a cabinet and drawer, retrieving spoons and two mismatched bowls. I carried them over to where Noah had set out the food on the counter. “Pop it in the microwave."
While he heated the food, I grabbed a pair of tumblers.
Noah cursed when he opened the refrigerator and pulled out the tea pitcher with approximately half of a centimeter of sugary goodness left. His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "You drank all of the tea, didn't you?"
Leaning against the peeling powder blue counter, I smirked. "You'll never prove it was me."
"No one else leaves just enough left in there that he doesn't have to make more." His accusing stare drilled into mine.
"If you're waiting for me to admit it, you'll grow old and gray standing in that spot."
Noah growled. The amusing sound of frustration made my lips twitch, holding back a laugh.
Pouring what was left into the glass, he dropped the pitcher into the sink. "I'll make some more later."
I was tempted to steal his glass, but since he was right and I had been guilty of the accusation, I settled for snatching a bottle of water.
After the soup was heated and the scent of spices filled the air, we filled our bowls. Since my parents weren't home to give me shit for it, I took mine and headed down the hall with Noah following me.
My room was small, like Noah's, but smelled worse with my gym shit lying around in random piles. There was barely enough space for a full-size bed, nightstand and a dresser that doubled as a TV stand. The black furniture was old and scratched, but my mattress was comfortable as hell. I settled onto the gray bedspread, sitting with my legs crossed. I flipped on the TV, scrolling through the channels until I settled on sports news.
Noah matched my position as we dug in. Once the gnawing hunger eased, I turned down the volume. "So how did last night go with Abby? Late night?"
Noah almost never showed interest in girls, so when he told me he had a date, I hadn't bothered to mask my surprise. Much to his aggravation.
Abby Middleton was a nice girl. Petite and with fairy-like features, she and Noah looked good together. Though I really didn't have a reason not to, I didn't like her.
Noah paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth, avoiding my eyes. "I took her home early."
I frowned. “Something go wrong?”
Noah set his half-finished soup on the nightstand beside him and scrubbed a hand over his face. He looked tired, and not just from the heat of the day. How had I missed it before?
“No. I just wasn’t feeling it." He cleared his throat. "New topic."
His appeared to focus on the screen as if he was truly interested in the highlights from last season's NBA playoffs. My brows scrunched together because I knew better. He put up with my hobbies like I did with his stupid silent film obsession.
I didn't like the fact that he was clearly holding something back. We'd always told each other everything. Whatever it was, it was obvious he wasn't ready to talk about it. I stewed as I resumed eating and watching the news.
A still photo of one of the NBA's elite hugged the upper corner with a tagline.
SOMERTON OUT AS A GAY ATHLETE AFTER YEARS OF FEAR OVER RUINING HIS CAREER.
It was a story I'd already seen last week because I'd been a fan of his from the time the Pirates signed him five years ago. His stats were legendary. With my competitive nature I was determined, not to match, but to beat them.
As Noah requested, I changed the topic. "Did you hear Mason Somerton came out last week?" I asked absently and tacked on, "He's gay."
When Noah didn’t respond, I glanced at him and frowned at the stiff way he held himself, shoulders squared and tense. He bit his lip before finally replying. "I might have heard something about it. Why?"
"They’re airing the interview he gave again." I tipped my chin toward the screen, as if he hadn’t been watching the same show. "Just wondering."
Instead of replying, he scooted off the bed, r
eached out and grabbed my empty bowl. After gathering his too, he headed toward the door.
"Wait, Noah. I'll take them. Just—"
He waved me off. "I need to get ready for bed anyway."
Something was off. Whatever it was hung in the air like an ominous black cloud.
I stared at his back until he turned down the hall, and tried to figure out what was going on. Minutes later, when the water from the bathroom sink turned on, I scooted off my bed and followed the sound. The door was open. Noah was leaning over the sink, brushing his teeth, and didn’t acknowledge me standing in the doorway.
Studying him for a moment, I was now convinced I'd said something wrong. I stepped next to him and snagged the toothpaste and my own toothbrush.
Once he finished, he left without so much as looking at me. Was he mad at me?
I rinsed my mouth and stared at my reflection, searching my eyes that were clouded with confusion. What had I said?
Returning to my room, I shut the door behind me.
He had half his clothes at my house since he spent so much time there, so I wasn’t surprised Noah's board shorts already lay in a rumpled heap beside the bed where he lay on his side, facing the wall.
I switched the light off, darkening my room thanks to my blackout curtains. The only light came from the TV, casting shadows against the walls.
After shucking my shorts too, I slipped on a pair of boxer briefs and peeled back my side of the wrinkled covers, sliding between the sheets.
Noah lay rigid and my concern grew. "What's going on and don't tell me nothing. Is it about Abby?"
"No." He sighed. "I told you I just wasn't feeling it."
I mulled over how to respond. How did I fix something when I had no idea what was broken?
"Your standards are way too high.” I joked, struggling to lighten the mood.
He glared at me over his shoulder. “Maybe yours are just too low.”
“Maybe,” I agreed with a chuckle, relieved to hear the slight mirth in his tone.
He turned to face the wall again, apparently bored with my love life and lack of standards—which for the record wasn't true. I just didn't have time for a relationship.
I pushed against his back. “Move your big ass over.”
He complied, scooting over. Getting comfortable, I collapsed against the pillows and grabbed the remote. “Want to watch The Arc…whatever it's called?"
I'd sit through ten of those boring ass movies if it made things right between us again.
Noah laughed, sending another wave of relief washing over me. “The Artist.”
“That’s what I said,” I insisted, attempting to smother a grin.
He snorted. “Liar.”
Except for the low drone from the TV, silence enveloped the area around us, lulling me to sleep.
The sheets rustled as Noah turned over. "Rook?"
"Noah," I answered, mimicking his tone, and received a shove to my shoulder. I cracked a grin. "What's up?"
Noah swallowed audibly. "What did you think about Somerton?"
That was the last thing I expected Noah to ask, but the answer came easily as I glanced at him.
"About the league? I think enough athletes are out now there won't be a lot of drama.”
"You don't care about him being gay?" His gaze flicked to mine, barely visible in the shadows but holding steady.
“Care about where he sticks his dick? I don't give a shit. But I'd rather not think about his dick at all." Mason was a seven-two monster of a player. I was shorter than the average height of an NBA player's, so I was counting on my skills to give me an edge. If I went pro, like I hoped to one day, I'd have to play against or with him, and that mental image would forever be burned in my brain. Thanks, Noah.
His breaths came in a rapid burst, and I frowned when he stared at me with wide eyes. “It really doesn’t bother you at all?”
“Why—" Before I could finish the questions, something akin to a brick hit me in the stomach. I was an idiot.
I rolled on my side, facing Noah and deliberated over how to say what was on my mind. I wasn't sure if I should ask him outright, but it was Noah. He rarely dated, but I hadn’t really considered why. I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Noah—are you gay?"
"What? No." He winced, but the guarded look he gave me… I already knew the answer before he said, "Maybe."
The shock that maybe should have followed his confession was absent. It made perfect sense actually. I was a little hurt that he thought I might judge him, but this wasn't about me.
"Nothing will ever change the way I think of you. You have to know that by now," I assured him, softening my voice.
He eyed me warily. "No?"
"God, no. You're my best friend. That's not going to change. I don’t give two shits about who you screw."
A strangled noise escaped his throat before he scowled. "I haven't screwed a guy, Rook."
Though I didn't understand why, the admission was a welcome one. I was a shit friend.
"But you've been with girls," I thought aloud.
"Yeah." He wrinkled his nose. "It was awkward as fuck, but I wasn’t sure. Or maybe lying to myself?"
I nodded. That answered my unasked question of whether he was also into girls. Okay, he hadn't had sex with a guy. It made me curious what he had done. The idea of Noah locking lips with a guy sent an odd rush of possessiveness, shocking my system. Maybe I was just worried he'd stop spending time with me if he started dating someone. "Have you kissed a guy?" I blurted.
"Not yet." His gaze dropped to my mouth, and my stomach tightened.
My throat bobbed as a sudden image of kissing Noah—being his first—hovered over me like a giant question mark. "But you've thought about it, right?"
His gaze shot back to mine. "Kissing you? No."
That was not what I asked, but still. My brow lowered. "Why the hell not? You don't think I'm hot?"
He gave me a pointed look. "I think you don't need another ego boost."
"That wasn't a no." I decided that was good enough and waggled my brows.
He gave a reluctant laugh. "You're a dumbass. Yes, I've thought about kissing guys…and more. But I don't think I’m ready to run out and tell the world I'm gay."
Noah sucked on his full bottom lip. I knew it was probably just the conversation, but I wondered what they felt like.
"I could do it, ya know." The words were out before I could stop them. I wasn't even sure why I offered, but you'd think I just ordered him a plate of raw fish. Noah was anti-seafood and gagged at even the mention of sushi. I was really starting to be offended.
"You aren't gay, Rook." He raised his brows.
What does that matter? I’m not offering to fuck him. "And?"
"And?" he asked incredulously with a slightly raised voice.
"You want to kiss a guy. I'm a guy last time I checked." I propped myself up on my elbow, the idea growing stronger by the second. I had to admit I was a little curious, and it wasn’t like I’d ever try it with anyone but Noah. I found myself wanting to own his first kiss. Well, his first kiss with a guy. That probably made me an asshole.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "You don't need to kiss me, Rook. I'm sure one day the right guy will come along and sweep me off my feet."
Though I could tell he was joking, my gut still twisted. I already hated this right guy we'd never even met.
"You don’t want me to? Just say the word." I shrugged casually, as if it didn't matter, and it seemed to be the right thing to say because he shifted onto his back, sagging into the mattress.
"This is so stupid." He groaned and peeked at me through wary eyes. "You sure?"
I groaned. "Shut up and close your eyes already."
I knew Noah wouldn't tell anyone, and even if he did, I'd never really cared what people thought. When his eyelids fluttered closed, my focus dropped to his mouth. I wasn’t gay. I knew that because I'd never been attracted to guys. Sure, I noticed if they could be considered hot, but I
never wanted to bury my tongue down their throats.
But this was Noah, so it didn't feel weird, exactly. Just different.
I leaned down over him, and his breath stuttered just as I dusted my lips over his. I pulled back, evaluating the dip in my stomach and racing of my heart. His tongue darted out, licking his lips, tasting where mine had been.
"More?" My voice came out choked.
His eyes opened. "Not if you don't want to. You—"
I cut him off, lowering my head, pressing my mouth to his harder. His lips softened beneath mine though they were firmer than they looked. But they eased open, and on instinct mine parted. The tip of my tongue teased his, tasting the mint flavor of my toothpaste. He shuddered, and a wash of uncertain desire buzzed in my veins.
Emboldened by his reaction, I slanted my mouth over his, opening wider, asking and demanding more. He let me in. Hesitant in our moves, it was a little awkward at first but then turned languid. Adjusting my position to gain better access, I rose over him, balanced on my hands that caged him against the mattress. I kissed him deeper, and his hands trembled as he brought them to my back, stroking my bare skin. Something in me wanted to leave a permanent mark. I didn’t want to own his first kiss, I realized. I wanted it tattooed in his memory so any other guy—
Fuck that. I growled and he groaned, shifting his hips. His cock was hard, and it was honestly not a situation I'd ever thought I'd find myself in, but fuck if I wasn't hard too. It was biology, I reasoned with the few functioning brain cells I had left.
Call it curiosity. An experiment. But I wanted to know how his dick felt against mine. I slowly, hesitantly lowered my body, trapping our cocks between us, and a sudden need to grind against him caused me to roll my hips. A bolt of electricity shot down my spine and my nuts drew tight.
“Fuck,” I cursed against his lips.
He moaned into my mouth, and my cock throbbed at the husky sound.
Whatever the hell was happening, I wanted more. Craved it. We kissed until the need for oxygen won out. With a gasp I pulled away and sucked in deep lung full of air. Ready for more, I dove back down. At the last second, he whipped his head to the side and shoved at my shoulders until I fell back beside him.
