West’s expression turned thoughtful. “I get it. But remember, you’re not alone in this. We’re in it together, like we’ve always been. And I’ll be right there if you need me.”
His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and I leaned slightly closer to him. “Thanks, West.”
For a moment, the air between us felt charged, heavy with something I couldn’t name. West’s gaze lingered on mine, and I could have sworn I saw something flicker in his hazel eyes.
I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of how close we were sitting. “You know, it feels like ages since we’ve had a chance to just hang out, doesn’t it? Between the Foundation work and everything else…”
West nodded, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ve missed our movie nights and those ridiculous cooking experiments.”
“Hey, my squid ink pasta was a culinary masterpiece,” I protested, grinning despite myself.
“If by a masterpiece, you mean ‘crime against Italian cuisine,’ then sure,” West teased, his eyes crinkling with laughter.
I felt a familiar warmth bloom in my chest. This easy banter, the way West could always make me smile—it was one of the things I cherished most about our friendship. And yet, lately, I’d felt like I needed more.
“We should make time for that stuff again,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “You know, after the fundraiser madness dies down.”
West reached out, gently squeezing my arm. “Absolutely. How about we make it a regular thing? Weekly Drew and West time, no Foundation or work talk allowed.”
My heart did a little flip at the suggestion. “Yeah?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager. “I’d really like that.”
“It’s a date,” West said, then quickly added, “I mean, not a date-date, just a…brotherly quality time thing. You know what I mean.”
I laughed, even though I died a little inside because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d thought of West as a brother. Whenwe were kids in foster care? Yeah, sure. But then we grew up, and I started popping boners whenever he was around. Hurrah for a sexual awakening when you’re sharing a room with other boys.
“I know what you mean, West. And it sounds perfect.”
As we stood there, smiling at each other like a couple of idiots, I felt like something shifted between us. It was subtle, barely perceptible, but it was there.
After dinner, I retreated to my room, my mind buzzing with emotions I couldn’t quite shake.
I stood by the window even though the only thing I could see in the dark was my own reflection. I replayed West’s words in my head. “It’s a date.” God, why did those three little words have to send my heart into overdrive?
I knew he didn’t mean it like that. But part of me—a growing, insistent part—wished he had. I’d been dancing around my feelings for West for years now, trying to convince myself it was just a deep friendship. But who was I kidding? The way my stomach did backflips when he smiled at me, how I’d catch myself staring at his lips when he talked…this was way beyond buddy territory.
Suddenly restless, I walked over to our Jack-and-Jill bathroom. A hot shower was what I needed to relax.
As I stripped off my clothes and stepped under the warm spray, I let out a long sigh. The water cascaded over my shoulders, and I pressed my forehead against the cool tile, trying to clear my head.
But clarity wasn’t what I found. Instead, my mind conjured potential auction outcomes. Me on stage, looking for West in the crowd. His hand shooting up to place the winning bid on me.
Soap slid over my skin as I imagined walking down the stage to him, my eyes laser-focused on his beautiful smile.
“I didn’t know you wanted to learn how to make cocktails.”
“I don’t. Not when I have my own bartender at home,” he says, pulling me out of the large room toward a closed part of the Botanical Gardens.
“What are you doing?” I ask, even though I already know.
West opens the door to a supply closet and locks us inside. In the dark, my back hits the door. His warm breath on my skin makes me shiver. When his lips press onto mine, I gasp. This can’t be happening.
Hungry lips part mine, tasting and teasing.
My hand moved to my aching cock, and I lost myself to the sensation and the fantasy. I was in that dark closet, taking my fill of the man I’d admired from so close but also from afar for so long.
“West,” I gasped as the strokes over my hard length sped up. It didn’t take long for the need to build from my core, and I cried out, spilling my orgasm all over the shower door.
I opened my eyes and took a gasping breath. I needed to stop giving in.
