“Don’t beat around the bush or anything.” I don’t know why I’m surprised—Bryce has always told me Calisse is blunt in the best kind of way.
“I don’t like bushes. I prefer to get straight to the meat of it.” The inuendo behind this woman’s words is why Bryce gets along with her so well. “Just fucking do it already!”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Oh, but it is, my friend.” She begins to retreat, deciding at the last second to add more of her wisdom. “Do you love him?”
“Of course.”
“Does he love you?”
“I would hope so.”
“Then just do it, please.” Her pleading words shake me to my core—she’s right. I need to just get it over with, but he’s so hesitant. “He won’t reject you. So, get that look off your face. Your friendship can withstand anything.” The firm pat on my cheek before she walks away seals the deal. She knows him almost as well as I do.
Once she’s gone and I get over my internal battle, I look for my best friend, only to find him at the other end of the bar, talking to none other than Drew. As always, my first instinct is to go ward him off—even claim what’s mine—but then I see Bryce’s reaction to something Drew said. He’s laughing, but his eyes say something more. He’s looking at him the way he looked at me while making the fajitas the other night—with desire, lust. Has he changed his mind about Drew? My hopes plummet to earth. I can’t handle watching this.
Pushing through the crowd to get some air, I get to my car and give myself a moment to breathe before driving. I should go back in there, tell Drew to fuck off as usual, but I know in the end, it won’t turn out well for me. Those kinds of situations never do. I need to get in my car and go home. He’s not mine, and he’s free to do what he wants with whoever he wants.
Opening the door to our apartment, it feels cold and empty. My bedroom is usually my quiet space when I want to be alone, only now it feels dark and lonely. Does he really not want to explore anything more with me? Am I forcing him into something he’ll regret? Does Drew have something I don’t?
Getting ready for bed feels like I’m moving in slow motion, contemplating all my options on how to approach Bryce. The air quickly turns suffocating—I can’t stay in this room. I need to be somewhere else; anywhere else. When I enter the hallway, I catch the scent of Bryce, his cologne from before he left for work lingering in the space. Instead of walking toward the kitchen, my feet take me to his room—to his bed. Climbing under his covers, I’m enveloped in his warmth even in his absence. It’s the perfect space to be in my thoughts.
Chapter Six Part Two
Bryce
The apartment is silent, which isn’t unusual when I get home this late. I want to go to Bodie’s room and check on him—he left without saying goodbye—but I don’t want to wake him if he has practice or a game tomorrow. Deciding to leave it alone for the night, I strip to my boxers in the bathroom and wash up.
To my surprise, Bodie is sound asleep in my bed, wearing nothing but his boxers. He’s never looked so peaceful. I guess we’re both sleeping here tonight. I take my time lifting the coversand lying down next to him, hoping not to wake him—a huge fail when I see him blinking slowly.
“Hey.” His tone is soft and tentative. “Do you mind that I’m here?”
“No, I don’t.” I lie next to him on my side to not break the hold of his watchful eye, and he mirrors me. “You left without saying goodbye.”
“I didn’t want to bother—”
“You’re never a bother, Bodie.”
“You looked like you had your hands full.”
“No different from any other night.”
“Yeah, I could tell.” He fidgets with the edge of the comforter, breaking the connection for the first time. “Are you interested in Drew now?” he whispers under his breath.
“Bode, look at me.” When he doesn’t look up right away, I steer his chin toward me. “I’m not. And whatever it is you think you saw, I guarantee you it was not what it looked like.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Good, because you should know by now that he’s an asswipe, and I’d never go near him.”
“You looked at him like you wanted to fuck him.”
“He’s a good tipper.” I chuckle, hoping he gets the picture.
“It was the same look you gave me the other night.” Bodie’s statement comes off more as a question—he doesn’t leave himself vulnerable often.
“It was.” The question still lingers between us. “You’re not a good tipper, Bode.” The lightness finally comes back to him as he grins widely.
