Memories I’ve spent years burying deep inside me start bubbling to the surface. This thing—this part of me—I didn’t just realize it tonight. It was always there. Always.
Whenever I watched porn, I’d tell myself I was watching for the women, but my eyes would inevitably drift. I’d pay more attention to the guys—their bodies, their sounds, the way they moved. My friends were obsessed with lesbian porn, raved about it constantly, but it never did anything for me. It was like I was watching something meant for someone else.
I didn’t let myself think about why.
In high school, I’d go to Luke’s football games, sitting in the bleachers pretending to watch the plays, but my attention was always somewhere it shouldn’t be. My gaze kept snagging on his teammates—broad shoulders, tight uniforms, muscles shifting beneath the stadium lights. And every time I caught myself staring, heat crawled up my neck. I’d force my eyes over to the cheerleaders, like I was punishing myself. Like if I looked long enough, I could train myself into wanting what I was supposed to want.
I never let myself think too deeply about any of it. But deep down, beneath all the denial and the posturing and the pretend, the truth was always there. Small and solid and impossible to dissolve.
I buried it. Ignored it. Told myself it didn’t matter—because it couldn’t matter. I couldn’t eventhinkit. I couldn’t let it surface. Not in my family, in this town. Not with the entire weight of our reputation hanging off my shoulders.
But tonight… Jesus. Tonight, the dam inside me broke. The truth spilled open, raw and unfiltered. Now that it’s been dragged into the light—now that someone else has seen it—I’m not sure I can shove it back down again.
Chapter Six
Troy
Thesharpscentofsmoke clings to my flannel, sunk deep into the red-checkered fabric. My hand tightens around my beer, thumb tracing the condensation along the glass. This folding chair is way too damn small for me. I’m practically spilling out of it, legs stretched out toward the firepit, the heat seeping through the soles of my sneakers.
The fire crackles loud enough to drown out half the crap Luke’s rambling about, but I barely even notice. I’m nursing my beer, eyes fixed on the flames as the night settles thick and cold around the backyard.
It’s been a while since that girl—Phoebe, apparently—came back here without Ashton. She smiled when she sat down, but her eyes were glossy and red around the edges.
Is she his girlfriend? Or just a friend?
The thought of them dating sits heavy in my gut, a slow, sinking dread. Selfishly, I want to be the only one who gets under Ashton’s skin with a wink or flirty comment. I like the way he reacts—even when he tries to hide it.
I set down my almost-empty beer and push to my feet.
“Gonna take a piss,” I announce, cutting Luke off mid-story.
He waves me off without missing a beat, his laugh echoing across the yard.
I step into the dark, letting the party noise fade behind me. The air grows colder away from the fire, the sounds thinning to nothingbut crickets and buzzing cicadas. I head toward the corner of the yard where I saw Ashton disappear.
When I finally spot him, the air punches out of my lungs.
He’s curled beneath the big maple, knees pulled tight to his chest, elbows balanced on them as his palms press hard into his eyes. My chest twists at the sight.
I crouch next to him, softly clearing my throat. “Ashton?”
He startles, jerking upright. His hands swipe fast across his face, and for half a second his eyes meet mine—wide and timid—before he drops his gaze to the grass.
“Yeah,” he mutters, voice tight. “I’m fine. Got… fire smoke in my eyes earlier.”
Uh-huh. I’m absolutelynotbuying that.
“This about a girl?” I press.
He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Something like that.”
“Phoebe,” I say, nodding back toward the fire. “She your girlfriend?”
His whole body goes rigid. “No. She’s not. We’re just friends. I’m not… dating anyone.”
Huh. Friends. That’s… intriguing. A wave of relief washes over me, loosening the knot in my gut.
“Cool,” I say, letting a lazy smile curl across my mouth. “Just seems strange. A handsome guy like you? Figured the women in Claremont Shores would be lining up for a hardworking man.”
