“Austen, what is going on?” he asks, the concern evident. “Are you okay?”
No. No, I am not okay.
I think I cheated on my fiancée with my best friend. My very male best friend.
Who’s gay.
Shit, does this mean I’m—
I shut the thought down as I aim for the bowl, trying to focus, but I can’t.
I think I might throw up.
Cam bangs on the door, and I nearly jump.
“Austen, talk to me…”
“I can’t,” I tell him as I finish up my piss and head straight for the shower. My cock twitches, knowing what I usually do in the shower, but I can’t think about such things right now.
I cheated on my future wife. With my best friend.
My best friend…
I brace my hands against the tile wall, forcing my head under the spray. Water ricochets off my shoulders, and I try to focus on breathing.
I recognize the signs of a panic attack. I used to get them a lot in high school, though most people had no clue.
The only person who knew was Cam, and he’s the last person who can help me now.
Cam…
Tears pool in my eyes as I try to make sense of how this could have happened. Did he take advantage of me? No, he wouldn’t do that. We were both drunk, and things got out of control.
I pray to whatever god is listening that there is a way out of this. That I haven’t completely destroyed everything I’ve worked so hard for.
But even as I stand here, hoping the water cleanses me, I can’t shake the memory of how good it felt.
How good he felt.
I am not gay. Or bi, or whatever.
I’m straight. I have a fiancée, we’ve had sex and while I know I’m not the best lay in the world, I’ve gotten her off for three damn years. Okay, maybe she’s not the best at sucking my dick—clearly, if the memory of Cam’s mouth is any indication, but—damnit, no… I’m fucking straight!
My mind is a mess as I try to make sense of everything I know, and all I can come to is one conclusion.
It was a mistake.
I was drunk, and so was he, and maybe he didn’t realize what was happening. Maybe we were just two drunk friends who made a mistake. A really big fucking mistake. It happens. You see it in movies all the time. We are in Vegas, and if there’s any place for something like this to happen, it’s right here in Sin City.
I finish up in the shower, grabbing a towel, trying to stave off the panic.
I’ll just tell him the truth.
That I didn’t mean for this to happen, and—
I stop, noticing my reflection in the mirror. My wet hair hangs over my cloudy eyes, the remains of the water dripping down the lines of my abdomen, my skin flushed pink from the heat.
But I don’t see just my reflection in the mirror.
