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But he was drunk and that meant not making smart decisions. Decisions he’d regret when he was sober.
Since I was the only one out of the two of us not trashed, I needed to be the smart one here.
No matter how much I wanted him.
When I reluctantly ended the kiss and slowly and regrettably pulled away, I expected him to haul off and punch me. Taking a step back to give us some breathing room, I kept my eyes glued to his face so I could read his reaction and prepare for that reality to sink in.
Hell, to hit us both like a bucket of ice water. Him, because he just kissed a man. Me, because it would ruin the hottest and most wanted kiss in my lifetime.
Of course, I was right. Not about him striking out, but being overwhelmed with the realization of what just occurred. His eyes were wide and even in the shadows, I could see them full of shock, mixed with confusion.
But, crazy enough, they weren’t filled with disgust.
I was waiting for that to descend over his ghost-white face as he pressed his fingers to his mouth.
He continued to only stand there completely frozen.
I needed more than that from him. I needed something. Even if it was rage or revulsion.
My heart pounded in my ears as we remained in the shadows, in a secluded pocket surrounded by the distant noise from the ongoing party.
No one in sight.
Except the two of us.
Shit. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to fix this before it broke us. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I’m sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that. I got…” Fuck, fuck, fuck. “I got caught up in the moment. I lost my head… I—”
“Shut up,” he grumbled. “Just… shut… up.”
I hesitated for a moment, but I couldn’t just let this go. Not until he forgave me. “I don’t want what I did to ruin our friendship. Please don’t let my stupid mistake do that. You mean too much to me, T. You’re my best friend. You’re…” Everything to me.
But I can’t tell you that no matter how much I want to.
“You… like guys?” The last word came out more high-pitched than normal.
Because he’d been drinking heavily, he might forget this whole thing in the morning. Then maybe we could go on like this never happened. “I like a lot of people.”
“I mean… like that.” He flapped his hand in the space between us.
“I thought you knew. I mean, I’m out. I’m open. I’ve never once hid it from you.”
“But you never said anything, either.”
What, like a warning? “Of course not. Who introduces themselves in one breath and then announces their sexual preference in the next? Do you?”
Why was I supposed to warn people that I was gay, when straight people didn’t have to announce their sexuality? It wasn’t like someone could catch it and turn queer against their will. It wasn’t a virus.
I had no moral obligation to make people aware that I preferred men over women. That was my business.
At least until now when it came to Tate.
“No. I mean… I guess, that’s true.” He scratched his ear and his brow furrowed. “Why should a gay man introduce themselves any differently than a straight man?”
I gave him a no-shit tilt of my head. He didn’t seem to be angry, but still surprised and maybe a little offended I hadn’t told him I was gay. But was it because he was a homophobe, or did he think I hadn’t trusted him with that info? I doubted it was the first one, thankfully. I never heard him say anything offensive toward the LGBTQ community.
We could explore all of that later when we were both stone sober, not while we were beer-infused and standing in the dark between two houses in Carson.
“Again… I’m sorry. It was the beer talking,” I lied. “I know you’re straight and have no interest in me that way. Seriously, don’t let this… I don’t want this to ruin our friendship, T. Can we just forget it ever happened?”
He pressed his fingers lightly to his mouth again. “I’m not sure I can forget it.”
“Then, can you forgive me for kissing you without your consent? I should’ve asked first. I was wrong. I got caught up in the moment…”
Okay, enough excuses. He either accepted them or he didn’t. Rattling them off wasn’t going to help anything.
Our phones buzzed at the same time, drawing our attention from each other. Tate pulled his from his back pocket while I pulled mine and glanced at the text that had popped up on the screen.
It was from Jack, announcing he was ready to go. Thank fuck.
I texted him back quickly to tell him we’d meet him at his car parked on the next block over, since out of the corner of my eye I noticed Tate was struggling to type.
