Chapter 13
Rhys had forgotten the unique pain that came from a hangover. He hadn’t experienced that particular searing, throbbing agony since his early twenties when he still thought partying all night was cool — and he was young enough to bounce back quickly the next day.
Groaning, he burrowed deeper into his pillow, but it didn’t smell right. His linens smelled like the “clean breeze” scented fabric softener he used, but these did not. Memories trickled in through the pain, and he groaned again, his face growing hot with humiliation when he remembered how he’d behaved with Thomas.
“Got something for you.” Thomas spoke in a low, soothing voice, and Rhys peeked out from his pillow to see Thomas standing beside the bed, holding a large sports drink bottle in Rhys’s favorite flavor. “I’ve got some bottled water, if you’d rather have that, but I thought the electrolytes in this would help more. I picked up some ibuprofen too.”
“Thanks,” Rhys mumbled as he sat up slowly, trying not to jostle his brain around in his skull too much. He unscrewed the cap off the sports drink and guzzled about a quarter of the bottle. It didn’t make his headache disappear, but his roiling stomach accepted it, and he did feel a little better after a minute or two.
He took the ibuprofen once he felt like his stomach could handle something other than the sports drink, and then he leaned back against the headboard and avoided looking directly at Thomas. He wanted to apologize, but he didn’t know where to begin, and his head hurt too much for him to focus on finding the right words.
“About last night,” Thomas said at last, perching on the edge of the bed next to Rhys, and Rhys tried not to cringe. He wasn’t ready for this conversation; he wasn’t sure he ever would be ready. “I hereby absolve you of any need to flagellate yourself over what happened. I barely touched my wine, so I was an active, consenting participant who wasn’t under the influence of anything except desire, and you stopped when I told you to, so there’s nothing for you to feel guilty about as far as you and I are concerned.”
“It’s not just that,” Rhys said, still unable to meet Thomas’s gaze. Thomas was a kind person who was willing to forgive him for what happened between the two of them, which was a relief, but Rhys wasn’t so sure he could forgive himself for what felt like a betrayal. “You’re the first man I’ve kissed since Andy.”
“And behold, the world didn’t end.” Thomas stroked Rhys’s arm gently. “Do you remember our conversation about sober Rhys?”
Dull heat flooded Rhys’s face as he remembered how he’d called himself an idiot and all but admitted he wanted to sleep with Thomas. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low and gruff. He could have pretended he was too drunk to remember, but he hadn’t been black-out drunk, and Thomas likely knew it.
“I meant what I said.” Thomas slid his hand down to thread his fingers with Rhys’s. “If you hadn’t been intoxicated, I would have agreed to sex with eager enthusiasm because I want you, Rhys. I’ve wanted you for quite some time. I’m good with being just friends, but if you ever want more…” He squeezed Rhys’s hand. “It’s yours. All you have to do is ask.”
Rhys tightened his fingers around Thomas’s, needing the warm lifeline their connection provided while he tried to tame his whirling thoughts.
“I’m terrified,” he said at last, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I can imagine,” Thomas said, rubbing the back of Rhys’s hand with his thumb. “But there’s no rush for you to decide anything. I’m still your friend, and if you want to try making our fake relationship a real one, I’m here for that too.”
Rhys gazed down at their joined hands. Thomas’s fingers were slender, but strong, and he liked the comfort and connection that such a little thing as holding hands offered. He’d held himself apart for five long years, but he could have Thomas’s hand to hold anytime he wanted. All he had to do was be strong and brave enough to ask for it.
“I don’t know what I want yet,” he said. “I can’t say yes right now, but…” He took a deep breath and released it slowly, bracing himself to make what felt like the most dangerous admission of his life. “But I’m not saying no either.”
Thomas smiled. “That’s a step forward. I can be patient. You’re worth waiting for.”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” Rhys said with a self-deprecating chuckle. “But thanks.”
Thomas lifted their joined hands and pressed his lips to the back of Rhys’s hand. “I mean it. That’s not meant to pressure you either. I’m just letting you know I’m not going to lose interest and walk away because you have doubts. I’ll wait until you make it clear you aren’t interested, okay?”
“That’s fair,” Rhys said with a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you’re willing to be patient. I’m out of practice, and even if I wasn’t, this scares the hell out of me.”
“I know.” Thomas tucked a lock of Rhys’s hair back behind his ear. “But I think once you get used to the idea, it’ll be less frightening.” He grinned playfully. “It’s not like I’m going to bite you. Well, not unless you want me to.”
“Good to know.” Rhys squeezed Thomas’s hand and then released it. “Well, shall we check out and head home? My suggestion is that we take some down time today because the reunion is going to be a pretty much all-day event tomorrow.”
“Sure, that sounds good.” Thomas stood, then offered Rhys a hand. “There are clean boxers if you want to change. Do you feel like you want some breakfast before we go?”
Rhys clasped Thomas’s hand and stood up slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. He felt steady on his feet, but his head was still aching, and while his stomach had accepted the sports drink, the thought of solid food made it rebel.
“No breakfast,” he said, grabbing the sports drink and taking a few more sips. “I can’t deal with food right now.”
Thomas nodded. “Okay. You think you’re up to the motorcycle?”
“Let me take a shower and drink some more of this,” Rhys said, holding up the bottle. “I think I’ll be good to go then.”
“Sure.” Thomas crossed to a chair and went through the contents of a bag sitting on it. He pulled out a robe and a package of boxers, as well as a toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste, then held the small pile out to Rhys. “The shower is all yours.”
“Thanks.” Rhys accepted everything with a grateful smile and then headed into the bathroom.
He lingered in the shower, letting the hot water help ease his post-drinking aches and pains. They still had plenty of time until the checkout deadline, and he didn’t feel the need to rush. After he’d showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth, he felt better. The ibuprofen was starting to kick in, and the sports drink was keeping his stomach settled. He still didn’t want to even think about real food yet, but he didn’t feel like he wanted to crawl under the bed and die anymore either.
