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Words that Trey said in that little room in the clinic, about putting myself in Bobby’s shoes, about feelings and truths and how a lonely gay boy might feel about his straight best friend.
And how I feel about my best friend, about my man, my guy.
Words I’ve said and meant—more so than maybe I realized.
The desperate thumping of my heart.
As desperate as Bobby’s right now.
It makes sense. Everything makes sense, all at once. In a quick and surprising instant, I feel absolutely sure.
“Bobby …” I try again, my lips near his ear.
“Don’t,” he begs.
“You’ve felt like this for a while, huh.”
“Please. Please just … don’t.”
“I should’ve seen it.”
“Just let me be. Just let me—”
“You’re the most important person in my life. You’ve always been number one, Bobby.” I kiss the top of his head. “I should’ve known that you …” I kiss his forehead, squeezing him tighter. “I should’ve known that you had feelings—”
“S-Stop talking.” He’s sputtering. His throat is closing up. Is he trying not to cry? Is he even listening to what I’m saying? “I don’t want to talk about it, Jimmy. It was stupid to look for a boyfriend. I don’t have it in me, this dating thing. I can’t do it. I just can’t.”
“Maybe you don’t have to.”
My arms loosen, allowing Bobby to pull his face away to get a look at mine. He stares into my eyes, confused, wondering. “What do you mean …?”
That wild heart of mine is trapped in my throat, thumping frantically. I have never been more terrified to say a few simple words in my life. “I’m sayin’ … maybe you don’t have to go lookin’ for a boyfriend, Bobby … because there might be one standing right in front of you.”
Bobby’s stare hardens. He is utterly lost.
So I find him by bringing my lips to his, kissing my best friend yet again—but this time with more need than I’ve ever given a kiss before—and breaking that stupid fucking deal of ours for good.
15
BOBBY
Lightning courses down my body, from my lips to my toes to my fingertips and back to my lips again.
Jimmy Strong is kissing me.
What did he just say?
What were all those words he just said?
I bring my hands up to his face, holding his body against mine as the kiss deepens, our breath crashing against each other’s faces.
I forget who he is. The kiss has me trapped so suddenly, I can easily believe we’ve been in a relationship for over ten years, and this is the special, perfect guy I was always meant to be with, my boyfriend, my lover, my man.
Except we have been in a relationship for over ten years.
We just never dared to call it that, because we never dared to cross that definitive line.
Not until now.
His hand slides down my back, reaches the top of my ass, then pulls me tighter against him, pinning our crotches together.
Is he hard, or is that his belt buckle? Shouldn’t I be able to tell?
He pulls away from my face with one loud and hungry smack against my lips.
My eyes open slowly, emerging from it. I look upon his out-of-breath face, his now-rosy cheeks, his full, parted lips.
Neither of us say anything, just staring at each other’s eyes in a total state of what-the-fuck-just-happened. His tattered red-and-white hat is nearly knocked off his head, tufts of his bangs messily flipped out from under it. His nostrils are flared from the effort of catching his breath. His muddy brown eyes look freaked.
The doors to Nadine’s calmly open, and a middle-aged couple depart—providing a sharp, comical contrast to our moment of fevered kissing. They give us a diminutive, nonexistent look as they pass, blissfully unaware of the profound, momentous thing that just transpired between a pair of best friends before they stepped out of that restaurant.
We’re still holding each other.
Maybe we just finished a hug. Maybe he’s teaching me square dancing in front of the restaurant. Maybe I almost fell down, and he caught me.
Maybe that last sentence is truer than I intended it to be.
“That …” I start to say.
“Was amazing?” breathes Jimmy quickly.
I stare at him, then finish my sentence: “… isn’t how brothers love each other.”
He squints at me, not following.
“You said you love me like a brother,” I explain.
“Oh. Right.” His eyes drop to my chin.
I can literally see the terror painting his face. Reality returns to him. “That was the third time you’ve kissed me,” I point out.
“I know.” He reluctantly meets my eyes again.
“Jimmy, what are we doing?” I ask unblinkingly.
“I don’t know.”
The doors open again. This time, it’s not a couple departing the restaurant to make way for their car after a nice fine-dining experience at Nadine’s.
It’s Malcolm, who stands at the opened door and stares at me with his eyebrows pulled together. Then, as if the first thing he noticed wasn’t actually the sexy dude attached to me, Malcolm slowly turns his eyes onto Jimmy. Recognition is slow to dawn, but it dawns, and the boy’s already stiff posture grows stiffer still. He says nothing at all.
