Kyle watches with his arms crossed, his sandy brown hair still damp from the cardio he insists on doing before every lifting session. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead in the cavernous gym, my grunts and the metallic clang of weights echoing off the walls. Across the room, a girl with a messy bun pounds away on a treadmill, her ponytail swinging in time with her steps. A guy in a faded BSU T-shirt scrolls through his phone as he half-heartedly pedals an exercise bike.
“So,” Kyle says as I finish my set and rack the bar. “You and Ryan.”
I grab my water bottle and take a long drink to buy myself time. “What about it?”
“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.” Kyle’s brown eyes narrow. “Drew told me about the shorts.”
“Drew needs to learn to mind his own business.”
“Drew’s business is everyone’s business. That’s how he operates.” Kyle adds more weight to the bar for his set. “So? What’s the deal?”
I wipe my forehead with my towel, stalling. Whatisthe deal? Ryan and I have kissed. We’ve had what Gerard memorably called a “friction situation.” We’ve held hands under stars and shared sandwiches on picnic blankets. But we haven’t talked about what any of it means.
“There’s no deal,” I finally say. “We’re seeing where things go.”
Kyle pauses mid-plate-loading to stare at me. “Seeing where things go.”
“Yeah.”
“You made each other come in a public park.”
“It was a secluded clearing.”
“And you’re ‘seeing where things go’?” Kyle’s voice rises with incredulity. “Oliver, what the hell?”
I gesture for him to lower his voice, glancing toward the students who are definitely now pretending not to listen. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s not complicated. It’s the opposite of complicated.” Kyle finishes loading his plates aggressively, then positions himself under the bar. “You like him. He likes you. You’ve already rounded several bases together. The only thing left is to make it official.”
“Since when are you an expert on relationships?”
Kyle doesn’t answer immediately, focusing on his squat form—which is annoyingly perfect, as always. He powers through five reps before racking the bar and turning to face me.
“I’m not an expert,” he admits. “But I know that if it were Alex and me—” He stops abruptly. He’s clearly said something he didn’t mean to.
“If it were you and Alex, what?”
His jaw tightens. He grabs his own water bottle and takes a drink that lasts approximately forever. When he finally lowers it, there’s a flush creeping up his neck that has nothing to do with the workout.
“If it were Alex and me,” he says carefully, “and we’d done what you and Ryan did? I’d already be halfway to the altar.”
The admission hangs in the air between us, heavier than any barbell in this gym.
“Kyle,” I say slowly, a grin spreading across my face. “Are you saying you want to marry Alex?”
“That’s not—I didn’t—” Kyle sputters, his composure cracking in a way I’ve rarely seen. “I’m saying that if I were lucky enough to have Alex want me like that, I wouldn’t waste time ‘seeing where things go.’ I’d lock that kid down immediately.”
“But you haven’t.”
“Haven’t what?”
“Locked him down.” I lean against the squat rack, studying my friend with new eyes. “You bring him homemade soup when he’s sick. You covered his ears when Drew made a dick joke at the fair. But you’ve never actually made a move.”
Kyle’s flush deepens to crimson. “That’s different.”
“How is it different?”
“Because Alex is—” He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Alex is special. He’s not like other people. He needs someone who’s going to be careful with him, someone who’s not going to push too fast or expect too much. I can’t just—I can’t risk scaring him off by coming on too strong.”
