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West gazed at Lake. “I want to dance and kiss without fearing someone from their church will see and spurn Mum and Dad. All their friends, their whole life. I’ve chosen them every time, but I . . .”
He was quiet. Maybe he felt like he’d shared too much.
West sighed.
An awkward beat passed, and Lake tentatively patted his shoulder.
“You’re a great guy, Lake. So easy to talk to. I’m sorry about this.” West glanced away, embarrassed. “I need to take a walk. Alone. We’ll catch up later.”
Lake was sad to see him go. They hadn’t known each other long, but West seemed genuine and kind. The type of guy Lake should crush on.
So why didn’t he feel that happy dreaminess of a crush? Why had he no inclination to laugh and dance and be stupid? Why did he tense up every time he imagined West asking him out?
Lake wandered the party until he found Knight at the edge of the pool, dipping his legs into the water, hands braced at the edges, tips of his fingers touching the glittering surface.
Shoes toed off, Lake joined him, gasping at the flow of cold water around his calves.
“Did I see West leave?” Knight asked, watching the water.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, Lake. You were getting along with him.”
Lake shrugged. Not as much as Knight imagined. “I’m sorry too. Not about West. About my behavior.”
“Behavior?” Knight queried.
“The absolutely atrocious envy I have of Josh.” Lake stared at their hands, an inch between them. “I know it’s not been subtle.”
“Subtle is never a word I’ve associated with you, Lake. Neither would I want it to be.”
Lake glanced sideways, struck by the warmth of his tone. Heat crept up his neck. “I know you like Josh.”
“Yes,” Knight replied. “He’s a likeable man.”
Alarm and fear created a belly-twisting mixture and it took all his control to keep his voice even. “I want you happy.” Lake swallowed hard. “If he makes you happy . . .” Pained, Lake continued, “Josh is smart and talented. At everything, apparently.”
Color deepened the contours of Knight’s cheeks and he struggled to hold Lake’s gaze. A fight he nevertheless won. “You think Josh would make me happy?”
“I mean,” Lake said, raising his hands, “I learned my lesson about matchmaking. I’m not pushing you together.” He couldn’t even if he wanted to. The idea alone . . . “You know what, none of this is my business. It was stupid of me to bring it up. Forget I ever said anything.”
“You’re wrong, Lake. Josh is a good man, but I have never—not for a minute—wanted anything more with him.”
Lake blinked. “Why not?” he said, incredulously. “He’s perfect!”
A chuckle. “He’s subtle. Too controlled in his thoughts and actions. I prefer a man who thrives in the moment. Who happily disagrees with me, who I can disagree with. A man one-hundred percent himself.”
A jumble of nerves fired in Lake’s stomach. “Oh.”
Self-consciousness consumed Lake. He rubbed his nape, staring at his knees. “Knightly?”
“Emerett?”
Lake smiled softly. “I never liked the sound my first name.” He met Knight’s gaze. “Until you started using it.”
Hopefulness flickered in Knight’s eyes. His lips parted as if to speak, but his focus darted behind Lake, and a sigh funneled from him.
Cameron and Harry plunked near them, sinking their legs into the pool.
Pencil in hand, Cameron looked at Lake and Knight. “We’re waiting.”
Knight hummed thoughtfully and Lake palmed his thigh, fingers pulsing over cotton and skin.
He clasped Knight’s shoulder and pulled him into a kiss. Their lips lingered for two long beats. A ticklish power source threaded its way deep inside, and his chest hiccupped as a warm, gently calloused hand covered his.
He turned away, lightheaded. Disoriented. Unsure how to breathe through the shivers mounting inside him.
He’d sunk into that kiss like second nature and barely thought about it.
He wanted to do it again.
Cameron and Harry blinked at them, and Lake cleared his throat. “Oh no, whatever shall I do?” Lake exclaimed, hoping his words didn’t shake. “He’s my best friend’s father.”
Laughter behind them. “You really commit to drama, Lake. Nice.” Taylor squeezed between him and Knight, breaking their contact. He scanned the back of his Ask Austen sheet, searching Austen-influenced pieces of advice for their match. “Concealment, if concealment be possible, is all that remains. Or . . . I must go to my room where I am free to think and be wretched.” Taylor winced. “Sounds a bit harsh. I guess it depends on the extent of your feelings—and absolutely, try to make your best friend understand.” Taylor winked.
Lake shifted, kicking his feet through the water, and laughed tightly. “I’m sleeping with your dad.”
“Shock. Horror.” Taylor theatrically fanned a hand against his chest. “How could you?”
Lake looked to Knight. “There were . . . feelings. They overwhelmed—overwhelm—me.”
Taylor tutted. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I’m not.” Lake held Taylor’s gaze. “Your dad and I have the most intimate connection I’ve ever experienced.”
