“Ryan, I’m so sorry.” I drop into the chair across from him. “I’ve been a terrible friend. I know I’ve been MIA, and there’s no excuse?—”
“Jackson.” He holds up a hand, cutting off my rambling. “It’s fine.”
I blink. “It’s…fine?”
“More than fine, actually.” He leans back, studying me over his glasses. “I watched the performance, you know. The whole thing. And I have to say, I’m proud of you.”
Heat floods my face. “You watched?”
“Everyone watched. But that’s not the point.” His expression softens. “You kept your word. You laid it all out there on that stage. No jokes, no deflection, just honesty.”
“It wasn’t an act,” I admit quietly. “It never was, not really. For as long as I’ve been here, I’ve been in love with Drew. When everyone was speculating that our friendship was more than it had been, I panicked. I was afraid that everyone could see what I’d been hiding in my heart. And Drew was the one who came up with the idea for us to fake date. And that’s what it was, at least until that night downtown. I’d told him how I truly felt, and he deflected. But deflection only lasts so long. Now we’re dating, for real. No farce, no lies. Drew and I are boyfriends.”
“I know.” Ryan’s smile turns knowing. “I figured it out that night. When you had your back to him, the way his eyes roamed your body—that wasn’t acting. Drew was drinking you in, Jackson. And how he touched you? Like you were the most delicate thing he’d ever had the pleasure of feeling up? I only wish you had told me the truth sooner.”
I frown. “We couldn’t risk the Ice Queen finding out. She was adamant that we were faking it, and that made us double down on our efforts. Why should she get to win?”
“I understand.” Ryan shifts in his seat. “I’m glad you’re being honest about it now, though. Are you going to tell everyone else?”
“Eventually. Right now, Drew and I are curious to see what the Ice Queen has up her sleeve. She said something about spring break.”
“Knowing her, and the fact that she’s saving it for spring break, it’s going to makeGuys Gone Wildlook like a DCOM.”
We sit in comfortable silence, the weight of the truth settling between us.
“So,” I say, “if you saw me and Drew that night, then that means you saw Oliver too.”
Ryan’s entire demeanor changes. His spine straightens, color rising in his cheeks, and he fidgets with his pencil. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Come on, Ryan.” I lean forward, grinning. “Oliver Jacoby in a thong? In a glass case with Kyle? That had to have left an impression on you.”
“It was pedagogic,” he says primly, but his voice cracks on the last syllable.
“Pedagogic.” I snort. “More like pedacockic, if you ask me.”
“Fine!” He throws his pencil down, glaring at me. “Yes, I watched Oliver perform. Yes, I saw his…everything. And yes, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” I can’t help but laugh at his flustered expression. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Do about it? What is there to do?”
“Plenty of things.” I lean back, crossing my arms. “The semester’s nearly halfway over. Talk to him. What have you got to lose? You two were friends once upon a time, right? Reconnect.”
I can practically see the gears turning in his head, calculating odds and probabilities and whatever else his giant brain does. “I’ll think about it,” he finally says.
“That’s all I ask.” I stand, already itching to get back to the Hockey House. To Drew. “Just don’t wait too long, okay? Sometimes the best things happen when you stop overthinking and go for it. I’m speaking from experience there, in case you didn’t get that.”
Ryan rolls his eyes. “I got it, Jackson. Go. Your hockey player is probably wondering where you are.”
“Yeah, okay. I’m going.”
“Jackson?” Ryan calls as I’m walking away. I turn back. “I’m happy for you. Even if you have abandoned me for what I can only assume is a truly staggering amount of athletic sex.”
“So much athletic sex,” I confirm, grinning when he wrinkles his nose. “But I promise I’ll be better about balancing things. Breakfast tomorrow?”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Drew’s dooris cracked open, and I find him exactly where I hoped—on his bed, scrolling through his phone in his boxers. The afternoon light streaming through his window turns his skin golden, highlighting every muscle and curve that I’ve memorized with my hands and mouth.
