Don’t You Dare

My eyes don’t believe what they’re seeing right now as I stare up at the picture of Aspen and me from a few weeks ago, when we took the trip to the coast.

The one from that rare weekend away from school, practice, games. Just the two of us, enjoying the ocean and each other.

When we were free to just be us.

My heart aches more because the image on the screen…fuck, it’s my favorite one we’ve ever taken, and over the years, we’ve taken thousands.

Aspen’s in my arms, my hands cupping his ass as he wraps his legs around me. He basically looks like a monkey climbing a damn tree, but it’s the smile on his face as he kisses me that sends my heart into overdrive.

Anyone with eyes and half a brain can tell that I’m head over fucking heels for him. They don’t need this picture for proof, they only need to catch the way I look at him.

But in this picture…I swear, I can see that same emotion written on his face.

Love.

It’s not the kind of love two best friends have for each other, either. It’s the deeper kind. The complete infatuation. The get-married-and-grow-old-together kind of love.

Two-halves-of-a-whole love.

And…my other half just bolted from the stadium like his life depends on it.

Which is more than enough to send me after him.

I tear off the field and into the dugout, whipping my helmet off and slamming it against the concrete wall.

“Waters!” Coach shouts from his spot out by the third base line, but I shake my head at him and storm through the door leading to the locker room, practically ripping the thing off its hinges.

Not bothering to undress or even remove my cleats, I grab my bag and rush toward the exit.

A million thoughts race through my head, most of them surrounding where Aspen would’ve gone. Back to the dorm? Back home? I honestly don’t know, and all that does is send fear zinging through my body.

If I need to run there—wherever there might be—to get to him, I will.

I don’t even have it in me to be pissed at Avery for that stunt he pulled. I might not have proof it was him who somehow got that picture on the scoreboard, but I know it was that fucker. It has to be. He’s the only one on the damn team who’s ever made any sort of comment about my sexuality to begin with, and he’s the only person to sink to this low of a level.

But, right now, Avery doesn’t matter.

The look on Aspen’s face as he stared up at the screen in the outfield? That most definitely does. The panic as his eyes met mine from his seat…it made me sick. More sick than realizing it was that picture blasted for everyone to see, or the connotation behind it.

And while the game wasn’t being televised, this is the twenty-first century. I’m willing to bet my future in baseball that this little outing will end up getting posted online. Maybe even going viral, because people these days have a disgusting ability to find entertainment in watching someone else’s pain and embarrassment.

It takes no time at all to get out of the stadium since the game is still going on, and while my panic is rising by the second, it comes to a grinding halt when I find Aspen waiting at the Impala in the player’s lot.

Pissed off and pacing, but at least he’s still here.

Probably because he knew I’d come running after him. Just like I’ve proven time and time again, I’d chase him just about anywhere.

My heart hammers against my rib cage as I come to a halt a few feet away from him. He doesn’t bother to stop his movements though, barely casting a glance as he continues to wear down the rubber of his shoes on the concrete.

Sweat streaks down the side of my face, surely smearing the eyeblack across my cheekbones, but I don’t care. I don’t care that I’m trampling over concrete on steel cleats either, nor that I just walked off the field in the middle of a major game—the latter being something I’ll probably take some serious heat for tomorrow.

I just care about him. Making sure he’s okay. Because as much as I was prepared to come out to my family in due time, I have no idea where Pen was with it. Which makes this shit all the worse.

Blazing eyes flash to me with a quick glance, and he continues to pace.

God, he’s furious.

“Pen,” I whisper, inching toward him some more. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

When he doesn’t answer, I do the dumbest thing I can do at the moment. I push for more, grabbing his arm to halt his movements. It works, but when he yanks his arm from my grasp, a small piece of me dies inside. I don’t even have to look into his eyes to know they’ll only kill me more, because I can’t stand to see his anger or his pain. Not now, not ever.

“Are you okay?” I ask again, my voice impossibly softer.

“What do you fucking think, Kee?” he snaps, combing his fingers through his hair a few times.

I do my best not to wince at the venom in his tone, but it’s hard not to. Part of me worries he thinks I was the one who publicly outed us. Still, I have to say it. Just in case.

“I didn’t—”

“I know.” A sharp breath slides past his lips in a huff. “If what you’ve told me about how things have been going this season is any indication, I have a pretty good idea who had this brilliant idea.”

I simply nod in response, thankful we’re on the same page about something with this whole mess.

But the sheer amount of panic on his face when he turned and bolted from the stadium—away from me—spoke volumes. As mortifying as it was to look up and see my personal business put on display for thousands of strangers to see, without my consent no less, at least he was there. At least I had him with me. We’d go through it together, because every emotion he was feeling in that moment, I was feeling too.

The only difference is he’s too blinded by fear and rage to see that this doesn’t have to be the end of the world.

That I have his back, just like I know he has mine. No matter what’s thrown at us.

Only, that’s the way it used to be. And when two words leave his lips—the last ones I was expecting to hear—I realize that was then.

Before.

“I’m sorry.”

I open my mouth to ask…something. Anything. Why? or How come? being a couple that come to my mind first. But what’s the point?

He doesn’t have to say another word aloud for me to know everything he’s thinking. It’s written all over his face, his body language. It was crystal fucking clear the moment he bolted from the stands, even when I called his name.

This thing between us…is over.

I just didn’t want to believe it.

You should have, though, a tiny piece inside me taunts. You should have known this would happen if you got too attached. Just like you should have stopped it; ended things and ran when you still had the chance to get out of this with your heart intact.

My jaw ticks, and I glance away from him to regain my bearing over my emotions. An effort that feels futile the second I make it. “So that’s just it, then?”

His fingers continue raking through his onyx hair from my peripheral. “What do you want me to say, Kee? Things weren’t supposed to end up here.”

“Just because people know doesn’t mean…” I search for the words. “We were going to both come out eventually, right? I mean, it might not have been the way—”

“Don’t do that,” he warns, his tone low and serious, and when I look back to him, I find more contempt in his eyes.

“What?”

“Pretend like this is just gonna be okay.”

I blink at him, at a complete loss. “But…it is. Look, Pen, if you’re worried about your—”

“God, how don’t you get it? I don’t give two shits about me. What matters is how this might affect you for the rest of your life.” He bites out a curse, now pacing again. Meanwhile, I’m left in shock at his declaration. “This could follow you everywhere, Keene. For the rest of your life. It might not be as bad as a sex tape, but it’s still fucking bad. It could be the reason scouts don’t come to recruit you or—”

“Then I’ll deal!” I shout before I can think better of it, tossing my hands out to the side. “This isn’t the end of the world, Pen. If it means I can’t go pro, then—”

“I’m not gonna be the reason your entire future falls apart!”

I open my mouth, ready to disagree. But then I close it, internalizing the best way to respond to that.

Because…really? Does he really think I’m stupid? Or that I don’t remember the day he cracked his chest open a little wider for me to see all his fears about us? About my future? About not being able to protect me?

I remember every damn word that came out of his mouth that day, just like I memorized the shape of his lips as he said them.

But it’s all a bunch of bullshit. Layers and layers of it, heaped up in a mountain that he’s hoping might be high enough I won’t want to attempt climbing it. The problem is, I know him too well. I can see that there’s something else going on here. There has to be.

“By doing this,” I whisper, “you’re making sure it does. You’re taking everything we have the chance to be and throwing it away without even trying.”

He shakes his head, halting before me. “We don’t have the chance to be anything, Keene. We never have.”

The words are a punch to the gut, and I’m left slightly breathless. “How can you say that?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

A scoff leaves me. “Right.”

He glowers. “Don’t fuck with me about this.”

“Why not? We both know it’s bullshit.”

“It’s not!” he snaps right back. “It’s not, because I can’t be what you need me to be, Keene!”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to scream at him, shout from the top of my lungs that he already is everything I need. Every want and desire and craving and wish I have all leads straight back to him.

If only he wasn’t too fucking blind to see it.

“I’m not asking you to be my protector or my savior or anything of the sort. I’m just asking you to be my best friend, the way you always have been.” My throat constricts, the vice on my heart tightening. “I’m just asking you to lo—”

“I can’t,” he growls, cutting me off before I can utter the word again, just four letters long.

I swallow the shards of glass lodged in my throat. “Can’t or won’t?”

His eyes are hard as they lock on mine, the tick in his jaw firmly set. But I see cracks slowly fissuring along the surface of his facade, growing deeper with each passing second. “Can’t. I can’t give you what you want.”

My head and my heart battle for control, creating an all-out war within me. Swords clash against armor, slicing off piece after piece until bloodshed is inevitable, leaving me bleeding internally without a hope of surviving.

It should be easy, choosing myself. To save myself the heartache.

But I’ve never been able to choose anyone over him.

I step toward him slowly, like approaching a trapped animal. “You already have, Pen.”

He shakes his head, and I watch him swallow harshly before he steps away from me. The distance between us might as well be the Grand Canyon, only growing deeper and wider.

Shards of glass shred his throat as he whispers, “I can’t do this.”

That one stupid word infuriates me when it leaves his lips for what might be the millionth time since I found him. Can’t. It sends wave after chilling wave of rage rolling over me, crashing and breaking and dragging me under their icy depths.

And I drown in it until I snap.

“So you can fuck me, but you can’t date me? Is that what it means when you say you can’t?” I snarl, poison coursing through my veins. “You’re willing to take everything I have to offer you, but heaven forbid you give me a damn thing in return, right?”

His gaze softens, but only fractionally. Probably because fighting back like this isn’t really my thing. And when it happens, it’s never toward him. “I have nothing to give you.”

My nostrils flare at yet another cop-out, bullshit response, and I shove the last word he spoke to the back of my mind. “You have everything to give me. You’re my best friend, for fuck’s sake! God, Pen, you’re supposed to know me better than anyone, yet somehow you’re too blind to see I’m—”

“Stop,” he cuts me off, his head shaking again. “Please, stop.”

In love with you, I finish internally.

It physically pains me to keep this from him. I want to shout it from the rooftops, let the whole world know how crazy I am for him. That he’s the only person I fucking see.

Because I am in love with him. Maybe even before this all started with that dare of a first kiss back in high school.

It’s always been Aspen.

“Give me one good reason,” I grit, stepping into his space again, and this time, I don’t stop. My hands come to rest on either side of his shoulders, pinning him against the driver’s side door. His attention flicks between my eyes, his fingers gripping the pack of smokes in his pocket. As soon as they’re pulled free, I yank them from his grasp. They’re crushed in my fist moments later, completely worthless to him.

Just like my fucking heart.

“Because,” he hisses, cobalt eyes colder than I’ve ever seen them, “you’re about to cross a line we’ll never be able to come back from.”

I can’t help it. I bark out a laugh, removing my hands from near his body in fear I might strangle him for his completely idiotic statement. “You’re kidding, right? Crossing lines? Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that?”

“Kee—”

“No, Pen. Shut up and listen to how stupid you sound. Lines haven’t just been crossed. They’ve been blurred for a while now, and I think you know it.” I pause for a brief moment, shaking my head. “And let’s not forget the way they were fucking obliterated the moment your dick slid inside me the very first time. Because best friends don’t screw each other.”

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t rebuttal or make excuses, let alone own up to the truth in my statement. And his lack of response telling me everything I needed to hear. So much so, I can’t help the rage boiling inside me. The pure, unfiltered fury taking control of my body as I stare at him.

My best friend.

My other half, if only he’d just try.

“You’re such a fucking coward, Aspen.” I scoff to ease the ache in my chest. “Apparently, that’s never gonna change.”

It only gets worse when he nods, agreeing with me rather than pushing back the way he wants. I can handle some conflict. At least if he’d fight me, I’d know all hope isn’t lost for good. That he hasn’t completely given up.

The last thing I want is his indifference.

“You’ve always been the brave one. Always willing to jump without fear. But that’s not me, Kee. I can’t give you that because I’m not capable of it. Of anything you’re asking for.”

Every word slices through me with an aim for my heart. It cuts and cuts and cuts some more until there’s nothing but a shredded, bloody hunk of meat left in my chest.

The worst part is, I don’t even hate him for it. I hate myself for letting it happen.

Tears prick at my eyes, and I blink them away before they dare to spill over. “You might think that, but you’re wrong. You’ve shown me. When we were on the coast, with every single thing you planned out for us. Or when you skipped class with me. Or every time you drive me to practice or watch one of my games or take a bath with me after a rough day or let me pick the music in the car. Each one of those acts is proof that you’re more than capable of giving me every fucking thing I could want or need.”

Another shake of his head is all I get for a long time while I watch him weigh and measure his words. His jaw is set and tense, but it’s still just a front. The slight waver in his eyes gives him away. The anxiety and fear tearing him apart from the inside, slowly creeping toward the surface.

And more cracks form.

“If anything, just add it to the list of things I regret when it comes to what happened between us. For making you think this could be more. Not following the rule I set out to begin with. All it’s done is hurt you. I keep hurting you, Kee. At every fucking turn. I see it when you look at me, and half the time, I don’t even know what I do wrong. But no matter how much hurting you hurts me too, I can’t just stand here and lie to you by saying I wouldn’t take it all back if I could.”

And there it is.

The one obstacle I doubt we can get over.

It hits me like a punch to the chest, right where my heart is, before the fist wraps around it and squeezes. Crushes the organ in its grip. The weight of his words land hard enough that I’m forced to take a step away from him, but I know the second I do, my heart will be torn out in the process.

But I keep moving back, trying to distance myself from the object of my affection…and inevitable destruction.

Blood pours from the wound he’s created, and I can’t help the strangled noise that comes from my throat as I try to keep myself together. Patch the hole before I bleed out at his feet.

“And here I thought you said you’d rather die than hurt me,” I rasp at little more than a whisper. “But here you are, doing just that by not even giving this a chance.”

His teeth roll over his bottom lip, and I watch as each of those tiny little cracks in his armor spiderweb out like a broken mirror. He clears his throat a couple times and blinks back the slightest hint of emotion but does nothing to erase the gravel in his voice when he murmurs out a rough, “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t even look at me as he yanks the door to the Impala open, ready to run away again. But the masochist in me won’t let him. Not yet. Not until he realizes what this will do to us. The permanent repercussions of him shutting down and freezing me out.

His arm is in my vice-like grip before he can slide into the driver’s seat. Squeezing hard enough to hurt, yet knowing it’s nothing compared to the woodchipper he just threw my heart into without a fucking care.

There’s still a palpable amount of sorrow in his eyes when he meets my gaze. It’s almost enough to pull him into my arms, take his pain as my own the way I have my whole life.

The way we’ve always done for each other…until now.

Let. Him. Go, the voice inside me demands. Save yourself while you still can.

It feels wrong, though. To draw this line in the sand between us, already knowing we’ll be on different sides. He’s so much as told me that’s the only outcome for us.

But I do it anyway, though it might kill me more than it could ever save me.

“You talk about crossing lines like those are the things that matter here. But if you walk away from me right now…” I start, my teeth grinding together as I force the words out, “…there’s no turning this around. That’s the one line we’ve yet to cross, Pen. So do it. Go, if that’s what you want.” I shake my head, my voice cut and shredded by shards of glass. “Just don’t bother coming back.”

Though it rips me apart to do it, I release my hold and step away from him. Giving him the space to decide.

To pick me…or his pride and fears and every other bullshit reason for us to not be together. To get through this as a team.

His Adam’s apple bobs, and I still see the emotion he’s choking back. The shimmering of tears, unshed and pooling in his eyes. But he still doesn’t let them go.

Or let me in.

Even when that’s all I want anymore. To see and know and love every damn piece of him. Including every fear and flaw and fucking insecurity.

But I never stood a chance against them. I see that now.

My tongue runs over my bottom lip, and I let out a grated laugh.

“I know you well enough to realize you’re going to rip this conversation apart in your mind one day soon. Overthink it, analyze it to shreds. But just remember, when that moment happens? You’re the one who chose to end this…and I was the one who wanted to fight.”

His eyes sink closed, head hanging momentarily as I watch him take a long, steady breath. The single tear that slides down his cheek is enough to shred what remains of my heart, because all I want is to brush it away.

I think he’s about to say something when his lips part slightly, a small amount of hope surging forward.

Stupid fucking hope, because instead, he swallows again.

Schools his features. Gets in the car.

And then he drives away.