Him

It’s past midnight when I stumble back to the dorm. Luckily Pat isn’t sitting guard in one of the rocking chairs, because there’s no way I can carry on a normal conversation right now. Walking in a straight line is also a challenge.

Yeppers, I might be a wee bit drunk.

I approach mine and Canning’s door and stare at it for a good minute. Fuck, what if his girl is in there? I stayed away for as long as I could, but a man’s gotta sleep sometime. And I’m not fucking doing it on the porch.

He would’ve texted me if she was crashing here and told me to stay away.

Right?

The thought is like a hot blade to the gut. I can’t believe his fucking girlfriend showed up at camp. He spent the whole day with her. Whole night too, probably.

My hands curl into fists as a parade of unwelcome images marches through my head. Jamie’s big hands roaming Holly’s feminine curves. His cock sliding inside her. His lips lifting in that dirty grin he always gives me right before he puts his mouth on my dick.

I’m such a goddamn moron. I shouldn’t have started anything with him. It was going to end once I left for Toronto, anyway. So hell, maybe it’s better if it just ends now.

I finally suck it up and turn the doorknob. It’s unlocked. And when I enter the room, I see Jamie’s mattress is on the floor again, just where it had been last night. But mine is on the bed frame where I’d put it this morning. Jamie is the only one in the room, too. My blood pressure eases, but just a bit.

He’s asleep. Good, because I’m not in the right frame of mind to talk to him right now. I can feel my temper pulsing through my veins along with all the alcohol I drank.

The room’s annoyingly dark. I stumble forward, bumping my arm on the side of the dresser as I reach down to unbutton my jeans. I kick ’em off, then tackle my shirt. There. I’m in my boxers now. I just need to make it to the bed without waking Canning, and then we’ll both be sound asleep and the Big Talk can be dealt with in the morning.

I ease my body onto the mattress as quietly as possible. Hell yeah. I did it. My drunken ass is now in bed and Jamie is still sleepi—

My head collides with something hard, and then an explosion of sound blasts through the room. A cacophony of pings and dings and clangs assaults my ears. It’s as if someone took a sledgehammer to a gumball machine and unleashed a wave of candy.

I stagger to my feet, cursing loudly when I step on something hard and round. “Son of a motherfucking bitch!” I hop around on one foot as I use my hand to rub away the pain shooting through the other foot.

Jamie bolts into a sitting position, his panicked voice slicing through the darkness. “What the hell?”

“Seriously? You’re asking me?” I squawk. “What did you put on my pillow?”

“Skittles.”

He says this as if it’s supposed to make sense. “Why?”

I kneel down, fumbling for the box I’d just conked my head on. I hear Jamie’s footsteps heading for the door, and then a switch flicks and light floods the room.

Jesus. A sea of purple Skittles covers the floor and Jamie’s mattress.

And a lump rises in my throat as I realize the significance of what I’m seeing. Canning kept the box I’d given him in Boston, filled it with my favorite candy and left it on my pillow.

As an apology for spending the day with his ex?

Or is it an apology for something else? Something worse…like fucking his ex.

Jamie squats beside me. “Help me clean this up.”

He sounds pissed. Looks it, too. Which only pisses me off, because what the hell does he have to be angry about? I’m the one who got ditched today.

We don’t speak as we start picking up Skittles. His jaw is set in a tense line, and he’s tossing the candy back in the box with more force than necessary.

“What?” I mutter when I catch him scowling at me.

“You’re back late.” His voice is tight.

“It’s our night off. I grabbed a drink at Lou’s.” I stick a hand under my bed and gather up more Skittles.

“I’d say you had more than one. Your breath smells like a brewery.” His tone suddenly sharpens. “You didn’t drive, did you?”

“Naw. I got a ride.”

“With who?”

“What’s with the Twenty Questions?”

Jamie whips a Skittle into the box but it bounces right back out, skidding under the desk. “None of the other guys have cars, Wes. Please don’t tell me you hitched with some random stranger.”

Guilt pricks my insides. But why the fuck am I feeling guilty? Unlike some people, I didn’t spend the day gallivanting around with an ex.

“Who drove you home?” he demands when I don’t answer.

I meet his gaze head-on. “Sam.”

Jamie’s breath hitches. There’s no mistaking the cloud of hurt in his eyes. “Are you kidding me? The guy from that hook-up app?”

“I met him for a drink,” I say with a shrug. “What’s the big deal?”

He doesn’t answer. He just kneels on his mattress, gathering up more candy.

“Are you seriously pissed off right now?” I fight a burst of annoyance. “Because you’re not the one who got ditched today, Canning.”

“Like hell! First of all, you told me to take off early. And I didn’t know she was coming, okay? She showed up out of the blue, and, what, I’m supposed to ignore her? She’s my friend.”

“She’s your fuck buddy,” I shoot back.

“Not anymore.”

He stands up and rakes both hands through his hair, then grabs the box and slams it on the desk. The floor looks pretty clear, but I know there’s no way we managed to pick up all the candy. Canning must’ve cleaned out that entire fucking candy store.

Either way, the Skittles are all but forgotten as Jamie levels an irritated look in my direction. “But just because we’re not fooling around doesn’t mean she’s not my friend anymore. And she drove all this way to see me. So yeah, I spent the day with her. Went shopping, grabbed some dinner.”

I can’t control the hot streak of jealousy that races through me. “Bet that was fun. Did you eat some pussy for dessert?”

His mouth falls open. “Did you really just fucking say that?”

I sure did, and I don’t even regret it. I’m sick to death of not knowing where I stand. Where we stand. Last night, I was inside this guy. And the second Holly showed up, he acted like we were strangers. He hadn’t even looked at me before he’d gone off with her.

Ain’t gonna lie—it hurt.

“Am I wrong?” I ask flatly.

Jamie releases a slow, even breath, as if he’s trying to calm himself. “I want to punch you right now, Wesley. Like, for real.”

I set my jaw. “What, for daring to call you out on the fact that you’re still into women?”

“You really think I’d just roll out of bed with you and into bed with her? I didn’t hook up! Which is more than I can say for you and your precious Sam.”

“I didn’t hook up with him, either.” Frustration spirals through me. “We just met up for a drink and talked about you the whole time. Jackass.”

Jamie blinks. “Then why the hell are we arguing right now?”

I falter. “Uh. I’m not sure anymore.”

There’s a beat. Then we both let out a tense chuckle. I’m feeling a lot less hostile and a lot more sober as I walk over to shut off the light again. When I turn back toward Jamie, he’s beckoning to me in the dark from his mattress on the floor. When I sit on the edge, he tugs me down to his pillow.

We’re stretched out on our sides, facing each other. We’re both waiting for the other to speak. Then Jamie sighs, his expression flickering with resignation. “I don’t like the idea of you messing around with anyone else.”

I swallow my surprise. “Right back atcha, babe.”

“I told Holly there was someone else,” he admits. “Pretty much right when she got here.”

My heart soars. “You did?”

His voice is thick. “Yeah. “

“I told Sam the same thing,” I confess. “He tried to cop a feel when we hugged hello, and I straight-up said I wasn’t there for that.”

His eyes narrow. He slides toward me, one arm coming around my waist as his warm palm settles over my ass. “Where did he touch you?” Jamie squeezes one of my butt cheeks. “Here?”

I chuckle. “Yup.”

“Fucker.”

I lean closer and kiss the tip of his nose. “That’s as far as it got, man. I promise.”

“Don’t have to promise. I trust you.”

My stomach churns at his earnest declaration. He trusts me. Fuck, I’m such an asshole. Because trust was the last thing I felt today when I was imagining Jamie’s hands all over that chick. And the fact that she’s rocking a vagina makes it a thousand times worse. I’ve never had to worry that the guy in my bed might choose a girl over me.

Then again, I’ve never cared what the guys in my bed did after they left my bed. It’s different with Jamie. I feel sick when I picture him leaving me. I feel sicker knowing I’m competing with not one, but two gender pools for his affection.

Except I won’t have his affection for much longer. Once camp is over, we’ll be going our separate ways. I hadn’t been joking around with Cassel the other day—if I want to succeed in the pros, I need to keep my pants zipped.

“But I think we need some ground rules or something,” Jamie says ruefully.

I swallow. Me and rules have always had a love-hate relationship. “Like what?”

“Like as long as we’re fooling around, we’re exclusive.”

Ha. Because I’m so interested in screwing anyone else. Still, I nod in agreement, because I happen to be very interested in making sure he doesn’t screw anyone else. “Deal. What else?”

He purses his lips. “Ah…that’s all I’ve got right now. You?”

Reluctance jams in my throat. I know I need to say this, but I don’t want to. I’ve wanted this guy for so fucking long. Forever. And the thought of letting him go in less than a month rips me apart.

But I’m going to have to.

“We end it when we leave for training camp.” My voice comes out hoarse, and I pray he can’t hear the note of pain in it. “We only have the summer.”

Jamie goes quiet for a moment. “Yeah.” He sounds equally hoarse. “I figured.”

I can’t tell how he feels about that. Disappointed? Sad? Relieved? His expression reveals nothing, but I decide not to push for answers. Besides, I’m the one who came up with that rule. I should be glad he’s not fighting me on it.

“We should go to sleep,” I murmur.

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes, but instead of rolling over, he shifts closer and kisses me.

I return his kiss softly. When I put a hand on his hip, the fabric crinkles beneath my fingers in a way that feels unfamiliar. They’re not his usual underwear, so I break our kiss to squint at them in the dark. “Canning,” I whisper. “Are you wearing your boxer shorts with kittens?”

Even in the dim light I can see the corners of his mouth twitch. “So what if I am?”

For some reason, this makes me unthinkably happy. I lean in to touch my smile to his. But Jamie squirms a little, as if uncomfortable. Then he sticks a hand down the back of the aforementioned boxer shorts and brushes something.

“Everything okay back there?” I ask, wondering if he’d left the tag in them.

“Just, uh, a Skittle in my shorts.”

We both chuckle even as our lips meet again. And again. Finally I’m able to relax. His arms close around me and it feels like coming home.

Our mouths fit together so perfectly. Every time we kiss, I fall even more in love with him, and it has nothing to do with sex or lust. It’s him. His closeness and his scent and the way he soothes me.

My life has been chaotic for as long as I can remember, and I always dealt with it alone. My parents’ criticism, my confusion over my sexuality. But for six weeks every summer, I didn’t have to be alone. I had Jamie, my best friend, my rock.

Now I have even more of him. I have his strong arms around me and his lips lazily brushing mine, and it absolutely kills me that I have to give him up when I go to Toronto.

We kiss for a while. There’s no urgency to do anything more than that. Our dicks don’t even enter the equation. We just lie there making out, while his palms stroke up and down my back in sweet, reassuring glides.

Eventually we fall asleep with my head on his chest and the sound of his steady heartbeat beneath my ear.