I ignore him in favour of sorting out what’s going on in my head. It’s not the comparison to them that’s made me insecure, because they’re them, my best friends, the two greatest people I’ve ever known, and we’re not in competition. It’s the comparisons to all the men I’ve seen them with that’s led me to this . . . this paralysis at the thought of being naked with them. There’s been bigger, smaller, flirtier, shyer, cuter, sweeter, meaner, louder—fuck, there’s been so many things I’m not. There are so many things I’ve seen in the men they’ve been with over the years. Geeks to sports stars. Liam’s boyfriend Keiron, his on-off boyfriend of six years, has tattoos and a nose ring.
I track Ryker’s feet as they turn then take a step, not towards me but to his pile of clothes. He groans as he slowly reaches down to grab his T-shirt, and for a moment I wonder if he intends to shower fully clothed.
“No,” I say. “It’s not you. It’s not your nakedness.”
Ryker smirks. “We can keep our hands to ourselves, despite what the last few days suggest.”
He’s trying to make light of it, offer me an out, and I could take it, but it’s not fair that they’ll think I’m uncomfortable over their bodies. They’ve worked hard to get and maintain them, and I won’t have my awkwardness dent that pride.
“It’s me,” I say. I curl my hands into fists then raise my eyes to find Ryker’s. “It’s not you, it’s not either of you. It’s your reaction to me.”
Ryker tilts his head. “What reaction?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You’re not making sense,” Liam says from behind me.
“You’ve been with a lot of guys.”
“I have,” Ryker agrees. He doesn’t look annoyed, and I’m thankful. It’s not a dig or an insult, it’s a fact, one he doesn’t shy from. He seems curious where the conversation is going and turns his head like a dog.
“I’ve seen you with a footballer one day, a ballet dancer the next, a guy with hair down to his lower back, and another with no hair at all—eyebrows included—a redhead, platinum blond . . .” I glance back to Liam. “Keiron—”
“You’re nothing like Keiron.”
The words are thrown out with aggression. I don’t flinch, but it’s a near thing.
“And that’s exactly my point. I’m not like any of them. I don’t want to take my clothes off and have you both recoil.”
Ryker smirks. “We’ve been on holiday with you, seen you in your swim shorts plenty of times, and did we recoil?”
“No, but—”
“And your cock,” Ryker says. “We’ve seen it. It drives us crazy, and we want to see more of it.”
“But that wasn’t the whole naked picture.”
“Freddie,” Ryker sighs fondly. “I’m going to say this, and then I’m going to step into the shower . . .”
I look at him expectantly.
“There’s a reason that no guy we’ve dated or had relations with looked like you, and it’s not because we don’t like the way you look. It’s the opposite. We’ve been in love with you since we were kids.” He smiles coyly. “Since we were in single digits actually.”
“What?” I ask.
But Ryker opens the door of the shower and steps inside.
“Since I was nine years old,” Liam answers.
“Nine?” My eyebrows shoot up. “No nine-year-old falls in love.”
“I did, and that wasn’t to do with body image, it was to do with you. You’re kind, supportive, open. All the time we’ve known each other we’ve never fallen out . . . not until . . .” He sighs. “Look, the fact we find you so physically irresistible has never been in doubt. It’s grown with the people we are, the men we became. We want you. Your body, your smiles, your mind, your humour, we want it all.”
I shake my head. “You’re both crazy.”
“Insanely so, now take off your clothes and get in the shower.”
I do.
