“You really know how to leave an impression,” Norman says, shoving Franklin.
“Seriously, I’m touched,” Franklin deadpans as he looks at me.
I wince. “Sorry. I guess you’re right. I’m distracted.”
“So distracted that you’re not screaming in excitement for being invited to the draft,” Wulfe says.
Sighing, I drop to the bench where my water bottle is and take a long drink. “I meant to share. I told my brother and Coach and then… I was debating whether I wanted to ask the guy I’m seeing to come with me.”
Chaos breaks out as all five guys begin talking over each other. I lean backward, feeling as if they’re closing in on me. “Whoa,” I say, putting my hands up. “What are you angry about?”
“We’re not angry,” Lane replies as Norman says, “You’ve been keeping so many secrets.” And Franklin says, “Dude, if you weren’t interested, why didn’t you tell me to back off?”
I’m not sure where to look at this point. Who do I answer? Maybe the question instead of the statements.
“I didn’t know I needed to tell everyone I wasn’t interested in them,” I say.
“Ah, Brev,” Norman says, shaking his head. “You’re too cute, you know that? We need to protect you at all costs.”
I have a feeling that’s along the same lines as my dad saying I was a defensive line short of a football team. My eyes drop to my hands.
Wulfe drops onto the bench beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. He pulls me close and kisses my cheek. “That wasn’t an insult, but I think maybe you took it that way.”
“No.” I shake my head. It just means I’m not smart. I get it.
“We love that you’re adorably oblivious when people flirt with you, Brevan. You have no idea what a catch you are, and it shows, which makes you even more beautiful. It’s less cute, however, that the reason is a reflection of your self-confidence.”
“Specifically, your lack of self-confidence,” Horace says.
“I’ve never understood why people can’t be straightforward and just say when they’re interested,” I complain. “I hate flirting. I don’t understand it. There’s too much room for interpretation.”
“I’m sorry,” Franklin says. “I guess I thought I was being obvious, but knowing you, I should have known better.”
“We’ll point it out going forward, okay?” Wulfe says. “Anytime someone is flirting with you in our presence, we’ll say something. Maybe a code word like… pass. What do you think?”
“I feel dumb,” I mutter and cover my face with the towel.
It’s pulled from my hands, and Lane grips my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. Mine widen at his severe look. “Youare notdumb, Brevan Skeeter. Don’t let me hear you say that again.”
I swallow and nod.
“Goddamn. No wonder you’re smitten, Wulfe. That’s hot,” Horace says, fanning himself.
Wulfe smirks but doesn’t comment.
Lane is still staring at me, maybe making sure I understand. “Okay,” I whisper.
He releases me and takes a step back.
“The reason you don’t realize it’s happening isn’t a reflection on you so much as the fact that people have such a damn issue with rejection. You tell someone no or that you’re not interested, and their response isn’t a simple ‘okay, cool,’ it’s ‘wow, you thought I wanted you.’ Or something like ‘whoa, dude, I’m not into guys,’” Lane says. “The world has created such fragile people that a simple ‘no’ is seen as a projectile, and it’s gross.Youstruggle with reading people, and this only adds to theconfusion, especially when you combine that with your lack of self-confidence.”
“Is that why?” I ask. “People can’t accept a simple no, and so they turn it around in some way?”
“Oftentimes becoming defensive, mean, or even aggressive—yes,” Horace says.
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.”
“For the record, I accept that you’re not interested, Brevan,” Franklin says. “And I’m not going to be any of those things. I’d rather still be friends than try to make you out to be a villain just because I have a thing for you and it’s not returned.”
