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Crack!
I slam the controller into his face and he groans, rolling off me. His chest heaves as he holds his palm to his face.
“What’s your problem?” I demand.
He pulls his hand away and I wince. A cut across the bridge of his nose trickles with blood. His blue eyes have lost their fire.
“Sorry,” he grumbles.
I lean over him and inspect his cut. My fingers are gentle as I pull at the skin above the cut to see how deep it is. He hisses but doesn’t push me off.
“You won’t need stitches, but it’ll scar most likely,” I tell him, regret in my tone.
He shrugs. “It’ll be a good reminder when I look in the mirror to not fight your big ass.”
I stand up and pull him to his feet. “I’m glad you’ll no longer forget who’s the badass in this relationship.”
Playfully, he punches me in the stomach before pulling me in for a hug. I pat his shoulder and lean away to look at him.
“You’re really pissed about Heidi?” She’s such a ho. I knew he’d made out with her here and there, but I didn’t think they were serious.
“Nah,” he grumbles. “My dad was just being a dick. I guess I’m a dick like him.”
I pull him to my chest and hug him harder than before, whispering harsh words at him. “You’re nothing like him.”
His body relaxes and he nods. “Thanks, man.”
He’s taken to drawing on my stomach. I don’t know how we got from my cast to my bare arm to my abs, but holy shit am I mesmerized by the way he easily makes art with nothing but a sharpie as his medium and my flesh as his canvas.
“So if you’re gay, why don’t you date guys?” he asks, the tip of the sharpie teasing along my flesh.
“I’m not gay,” I bite out.
He laughs and continues his art. It takes me a minute reading upside down, but I soon realize he’s made art from words. Two words, in fact.
BAD LIAR
His fingers slide beneath the waistband of my pants and I let out a sharp breath of surprise. Icy blue eyes lock with mine as he drags the material lower until my dark pubic hair comes into view. My cock is hard. No denying how much he affects me. All I can do is stare down at him in awe.
Does he want me?
He chuckles again as he draws more flourishes with the sharpie. Then he blows on my flesh. My eyes roll back in my head and I fist the mattress with my good hand. I can’t take this teasing. I’m not sure what he’s up to, but it’s going to kill me.
“I’m not gay,” he growls, his voice cold, as he sits up on his knees and releases his grip on my pants. “And you are. Dating Leah isn’t going to fix your dilemma.”
I flip him off and storm off to the bathroom.
“Meet you in my car,” he calls out before leaving my bedroom.
The ink on my body looks good. It’s not permanent. But the way I felt as he drew on me was. Very permanent. So permanent, I’ll die with that memory as one of my favorites. Kicking the door shut behind me, I tug down my pants and relieve some tension before I do something stupid.
Like kiss that damn guy again.
And that absolutely cannot happen.
Copeland
The music booms as I try to clear my head. Hanging out with Penn feels so normal. I hate to admit how much I’ve missed it. He’s the only person who knows everything about me. It’s so easy to fall back into the way things were.
But they’re not the same.
Because back when we were like brothers, he didn’t want my dick.
I’d drawn on him to mess with his head. Make him admit that he is gay. To realize going out with Leah is a copout to how he really feels. Maybe he needs to date guys. Then we could go back to being friends like we should be.
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel as I wonder if I know any gays at school. One guy, Liam Brumble, comes to mind. Pretty boy who wears a damn fedora and eyeliner. A little pansy if you ask me. But openly gay. Images of him and Penn don’t sit well with me. Penn may have crossed the line with me, but I still think he’s a better guy than Liam. Liam’s known for sleeping around. Probably crawling with STDs. Penn’s definitely not seeing Liam. I’ll let him know real quick that Liam’s out of the question.
The door pops open and Penn drops into the seat next to me. His hoodie can’t hide the bulge of his cast, but at least it’s not so obvious. I wonder if his dad knows yet.
“Liam’s a douchebag manwhore,” I tell him as I rev my engine.
