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12
Morgan
I was livid, and Ryan was probably right on the verge but swallowing his feelings for his friend’s sake. It was the exact thing Ryan didn’t want. He’d made it clear he wasn’t into strip clubs, and that was his choice. After all, it was Ryan’s night. Who the hell did Dawson think he was?
I caught up with him in the hallway just as he was reaching for the men’s room door.
“What do you want, Morgan?” Dawson asked, glancing over his shoulder. “I get it. You don’t like that I brought a stripper to your brother’s—”
“Does this have anything to do with what happened between us?” I blurted out, and no matter the consequences, it felt good to finally get it out there. The pressure in my chest eased a bit just by saying it out loud.
“Us? There was no us.” Dawson refused to meet my gaze. “You obviously misinterpreted something.”
I scowled. “I misinterpreted your tongue down my throat?”
“I…I…” he sputtered. “Was clearly drunk. I don’t remember anything from that night. So I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Good one! Do you use that excuse often?” My jaw clenched as I watched him blanch. There was a tremor in his fingers, which told me all I needed to know. He’d likely never discussed his feelings or curiosity—if that’d been what it was—with anyone. I felt bad for him living a lie, but that certainly didn’t excuse his rude behavior.
“Listen, Dawson. I’ve never outed you to my brother, no matter how much of a jerk you’ve been to me. Ignoring me afterward made me feel awful. Had we just talked about it, even if it was a mistake on your part or experimentation or whatever, at least I would’ve felt like I wasn’t in this alone,” I said, and he inhaled sharply through his nose. “So I just wanted to…I don’t really know. Be civil, or come to an understanding. Especially since you’re my brother’s best friend.”
“What sort of understanding? I told you I don’t remember what happened that night.” It was the first time he looked me in the eye, and I saw the panic in his gaze. He was terrified, and I’d been there. The difference was, I’d come to terms with my sexuality, and he…who knew?
“Okay, fine. At least I tried.” I released a frustrated sigh. “I mean, we were just kids, and I’ve sure as hell moved on.”
“Apparently not,” he bit out.
“What I mean is, I’ve gone on to accept my sexuality and date other guys, and I know how hard it can be. So if you ever need to talk—”
“No thanks. There’s nothing to discuss,” he said, swinging the door open, no doubt more forcefully than he’d intended.
“So much for having an adult conversation,” I muttered as he stepped inside. “At least I know where you stand.”
I heard him click the lock as if I was going to burst through the door and assault him or something. Jesus, he was fucking exasperating.
I could still hear the stripper music, so I caught my breath for another moment. No way I wanted to watch my brother look uncomfortable, so I’d make Dawson squirm, thinking I was waiting for him. It was irrational, sure, but I was still furious.
“Morgan, what are you doing?” Elliot said as he approached hesitantly.
“Confronting Dawson,” I replied, motioning to the restroom.
He winced, and I wondered how much of the conversation he’d heard. “How’s it going so far?”
My shoulders slumped. “He doesn’t want to admit anything happened between us, which in a way, I expected. But damn, is he wound tight. He couldn’t even have a reasonable discussion about it.”
Elliot sighed, stepping closer. “It’s probably time to let it go.”
“Sure, I can do that. But not about what he did tonight.” I shook my head. “He actually thought it was a good idea to—”
Elliot reached for my wrist, wrapping his warm fingers around it. “You don’t want to ruin Ryan’s bachelor party.”
I motioned toward the larger room. “Isn’t it already ruined?”
“Not exactly,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder. “He and his friends will probably joke about this for years to come, and he’ll go home tonight and explain to Kate how his best friend didn’t respect his wishes. And that maybe, just maybe, it ended up being a fun night anyway.”
“But I was the one who organized this. I’m the best man, and I don’t want—”
“Breathe, Morgan.” Elliot placed his hands on my shoulders and squeezed. “It’s gonna be okay. Dawson is Ryan’s friend, and no doubt they’ll have some words. Ryan knows you had nothing to do with it.”
I exhaled, so glad I had my smart and calm best friend with me tonight. “You’re right, of course.”
Suddenly the restroom door opened, and Dawson stepped out, silently cursing to himself when he saw us. I tensed, feeling that prickle of frustration again. And just as I was winding up to give him another piece of my mind, Elliot backed me against the wall, caging me in with his forearms.
