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Staring down at my phone screen, not paying any attention to where I was going, I rounded the corner of the gym building and walked straight into someone.
“Shit, sorry.” Fumbling with my phone, trying not to drop it, I glanced distractedly at the other figure, then did a double take.
Noah.
He had his hood up, but I could see the ends of his damp hair under the hood, and the citrus scent of his shower gel hit me when I took an involuntary step closer. Fuck, I just wanted to bury my face in his neck and breathe him in.
He eyed me from beneath his lashes, his amber gaze wide and troubled. It made something inside my chest hurt.
“Hi.” My voice came out croaky. “Been to the gym?” I mentally rolled my eyes at myself—it was obvious he’d been there, based on the fact that he was carrying his gym bag and was freshly showered.
“Uh. Yeah. How about you?” Shifting from one foot to the other, he lowered his gaze to the ground.
“On my way now.”
This conversation was so fucking awkward.
“Oh. Uh…good. See you back at the house.” Then he took a step backwards and jogged away before I had a chance to respond.
It was the longest conversation we’d had in days. And it was clear that neither of us knew how to act around each other anymore.
I entered the gym on autopilot, rubbing at my chest, but the ache wouldn’t go away.
“Liam? Liam? Hey, man, are you okay?”
“Huh?” My head shot up to see Preston standing next to the pec deck I was sitting on. I must’ve zoned out for a minute because I didn’t even remember taking a seat on the machine.
“Are you okay?” he repeated, eyeing me with concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
He sighed, pinching his brow. “If you ever need to talk through anything, I’m here. Kian too.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine,” I bit out. “Everything’s fine.”
“Okay. Just…I know you and Noah are both having a hard time,” he said carefully. “If you won’t talk to me, maybe you should talk to someone else.”
I shrugged, staring down at my feet. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
He sighed again and left me alone.
* * *
Everything fucking sucked, and it was all my fault. The only time I felt remotely happy now was when I was playing football, and even then, it wasn’t enough.
I couldn’t understand it, and I hated this fucking sadness that I couldn’t shake. And the only person I knew who would understand what I was going through was the other person involved in this mess. Not only that, but it was killing me to see him so sad and to know I’d been the one responsible.
Back in my bedroom, I sat on my bed, resting my back against the wall, and stared at my blank laptop screen for a long, long time. My hand shook as I woke up the screen and began typing the words into Google.
The first video loaded. Two guys in their underwear were kissing. One looked a bit like Noah, and my dick immediately paid attention, hardening quickly as I watched the guys move to a bed. I leaned forward, hitting Pause, breathing rapidly. It had to be because the one guy reminded me of Noah.
I scrolled to another video. This one had two guys in what looked like a gym, neither of whom reminded me of anyone I knew. One was lying back on the weights bench, naked, but with a baseball cap on for some reason, and the other was pounding his ass, holding on to the dumbbell bar. It was fast, it was dirty, and it was so fucking hot.
My dick was rock-hard in an instant, watching them. Filthy images of what I could do to Noah on a weights bench played through my mind as I palmed my cock through my joggers.
I forced myself to remove my hand, tapping on the next video. One guy was down on his knees, sucking the other guy off. My dick was really fucking into it, again, and I yanked down my joggers, wrapping my hand around myself with a moan. As the guys on the screen moved to a sofa and began fucking, I gave in and started stroking myself. I was coming, hard, before the clip had even finished playing.
