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I wish I fucking knew.
“I just…I thought you were straight.”
A sharp scoff comes from him and he shakes his head before glaring at me. “Why? Because straight is automatically the default?”
The question takes me aback, mostly because I’ve never thought about it in that way. But now since he’s said it, I realize I really have seen it as the standard for everyone I meet. I assume they’re straight.
Same way everyone assumes I am.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
He tosses a hand out, waving me off. “Save it. You wouldn’t be the first.”
We reach the fire pit then, and we both start gathering the remaining boxes of graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows before heading into the lodge’s kitchen to put them away. And since I’m not sure what to say after his dismissal, awkward silence stifles us the entire time.
But the silence gives me time to think, and right now, thinking is the last thing I should be doing. Because all my mind can seem to focus on is the fact that Kaleb is gay, and I’m—
Don’t go there, something deep in the recesses of my brain warns as I watch him lock the back door again.
Which is exactly what I should do with these feelings that’ve been rapidly increasing since he walked into Colin’s office last week. Lock them up. Immediately. Shove them in a box at the back of my mind and throw away the fucking key.
There’s no other option.
Still, I’m itching to say something—to break this overwhelming silence—as we make our way back towards the cabins. But I can’t think of anything at this point.
Hell, what do you say to someone who was all but outed by his brothers in front of twenty-plus people, and one of them was the guy who did the exact same thing to one of your friends, but on a much larger scale?
Realization smacks me square in the face at the thought, and it’s enough to stop me dead in my tracks. Halting suddenly must take Kaleb off guard, because he stops too, annoyance and a tiny amount of concern mixed together in his expression as I blink at him.
“Wait, is this why you’re pissed at me? Why you went to Coach about the photo?” I ask. “Because you’re gay too?”
His brows clash together even more, and if that weren’t enough to alert me of my mistake, then the sharp tone of his voice sure as hell does the job.
“Not that it matters to you, but Keene is bi, not gay. And though you don’t actually give two shits, no, they aren’t the same thing either. Like I pointed out to the kids.”
I open my mouth, but he cuts me off before I get a word in edgewise.
“And for the record,” he snarls, closing the space between us and pressing a finger into my chest. “I turned you in because what you did was a piece of shit thing to do. My sexuality has nothing to do with it.”
I’d almost be convinced if it weren’t for the small amount of apprehension lingering in those eyes. It’d be damn near impossible to hide when we’re this close. Even earlier tonight at the fire, as his secret was shared, I caught a glimpse of something similar.
And the alarm, no matter how slight, tells me one thing.
He’s lying.
“Your mouth is saying one thing, but your eyes are saying another, LaMothe.”
The tension between us is laced with something a little more potent than it normally is. It’s become this overwhelming urge to just throw him against the nearest hard surface and kiss him until neither of us can breathe, crashing into me with lust-filled waves.
And it only gets worse when he steps in closer to me, nostrils flared with anger.
“Fuck off, Reynolds. You don’t know shit about me.”
The desire coursing through me spikes with a mixture of anger, bringing my blood to a boiling point. He must realize it too, because the finger against my chest flattens into a palm before he pushes me away; not enough to cause a stumble, just to garner a bit of space.
But it sets me right the fuck off.
Just not in the way I’d ever expect.
