Standing outside the frat house with my friends, I'm already regretting every decision that led to this moment. We're fifteen minutes early because apparently we're all nervous wrecks who overcompensated on timing.
"Maybe we should wait," JP suggests, checking his phone for the hundredth time.
"Or we could just go in," Max counters, though he doesn't move either.
"It's fine," Leo says, not sounding convinced. "Gavin invited us. It's fine."
The door swings open before we can knock, and there's Gavin, wearing jeans and a soft Henley that should be illegal for how it clings to every muscle.
"You came!" His whole face lights up, and fuck, that smile does things to me.
My stomach goes warm and swoopy, like I'm on a roller coaster that just dropped. And lower... yeah, okay, his smile apparently has a direct line to my dick because suddenly my jeans feel tighter.
But it's more than just the horny. It's the way he looks genuinely happy to see me, like I've made his whole night justby showing up. Nobody's ever looked at me like that. Like I'm special instead of just the anxious pre-med kid who forgets how to form sentences around hot guys.
Makes me want to do stupid things. Like kiss him right here in the doorway. Like, admit that I jerked off twice this morning, remembering how his hands felt on my hips.
Fuck. I'm so screwed.
"We're early," I blurt out, because apparently my brain-to-mouth filter is completely broken around him.
"Nah, perfect timing! Come in, come in!" He ushers us inside. "Tyler and Ethan are in the living room setting up the movie stuff."
The house is... cleaner than expected. No beer cans, pyramids, or questionable stains. Just a normal living room with comfortable couches and a massive TV.
"Make yourselves at home," Gavin says, but he's looking at me. "Hey Doc, can I talk to you for a sec? Upstairs?"
My stomach drops. Here it comes. The 'I've been thinking' speech.
"Sure," I manage.
I follow him upstairs, trying not to think about how this is probably where he tells me the club was a mistake. That he's not really gay. That he was just experimenting and?—
His room is surprisingly neat. Sports trophies, sure, but also physics textbooks and what looks like complex equations on a whiteboard.
"So." He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous. "I wanted to talk before everyone gets here."
"Look, if this is where you say?—"
"I'm worried you won't like that I'm inexperienced," he blurts out, face already turning red. "With guys, I mean. Like, I've been with girls before, but I never really..." He covers his face with his hands. "Fuck, this is embarrassing."
"Gavin—"
"I didn't like it much," he says through his fingers. "Sex with women. My dad always says that real men have sex with women, that's just how it is, so I did it a few times, but it felt... wrong? Like I was just going through the motions?"
Oh.Oh.
"Then Tyler came out to me," he continues, hands dropping to his lap. "And I realized, shit, if Tyler can be gay and still be this amazing person, then being gay can't be bad, right? Tyler's like the best guy I know."
I feel off, like someone's reaching inside and rearranging everything. Heart squeezing tight, then expanding too big for my ribcage. It's hope, mixing with fear, mixing with want, all churning together until I can't breathe right.
Because he's not just talking about Tyler being gay. He's talking about respect. About love. About how his best friend trusted him with something huge, and his first thought wasn't disgust or confusion, butif Tyler's gay and Tyler's amazing, then being gay must be okay.
My throat goes tight, here's this massive football player having revelations about sexuality based on pure fucking love for his friend.
Fuck. I'm feeling feelings. Real ones.The dangerous kind that makes you stupid and vulnerable and hopeful.
I hate it. I want more of it. I want to run. I want to stay.
