He collapses without question, this time not on me, so I shimmy a little further away. Gesturing to the doorway, I silently instruct Aleks to follow me out of the room. He does, and we sidestep teammates all the way up to my bedroom. Once there, we lock ourselves inside, I turn to him, and—
His panic unleashes.
I freeze, back to the door as Aleks begins pacing with his hands buried in his hair. “What is wrong with me?” he asks in a normal volume, sounding disturbed. “I like Micah, obviously. We’ve been keeping it casual because I’m such a playboy, and he’s . . . well, I don’t know why, but he agreed to the casual thing, too. Have I thought about asking him for something more serious? Yes, but I have been stalling because I like the excitement and the flirting. And, apparently, I like watching him give other guys lap dances! What does that mean?”
Rubbing at my dry eyes, I almost wish I had a drink right about now. Aleks’ nerves are so electric that they are frying mine by proximity. “Okay, wait. Hold on. I can’t think when I can’t see.” He makes an impatient noise as I cross to the bathroom, so I leave the door open as I enter. Aleks, of course, follows right on in. “So,” I say, leaning close to the mirror and preparing to extract my sticky contact. “You—”
A loud and satisfied ahhh cuts me off, along with the sound of Aleks’ trying to crack my porcelain toilet in half with his jet stream of piss.
I roll my eyes, then make quick work of disposing of my contacts, putting some drops in my dry eyes, and donning my glasses. Once he’s finished, I take my turn at the toilet while he plants his ass on my counter. “So, you weren’t jealous at all?” Shuffling to my cabinet, I grab my pill bottles to count out my morning dose.
“No, I . . .” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I think— I think I liked it?”
“Liked it?”
“It was exciting.”
“Exciting?”
“It . . . made me want him more.”
“Really?”
“Does that sound crazy?”
I gulp down my pills with a whole glass of water. “Does it?”
“See, that’s—” He pauses midsentence, hands frozen in the air. “Gin, why aren’t you saying anything? Don’t you have an opinion on this?”
“Yeah.” Exiting the bathroom, I head to the closet and change into something not rumpled with sleep, offering Aleks clothes as well from the stash he’s left here over the years. We change as I elaborate. “I think you’re making it entirely too complicated. Just do what feels right. If you like seeing him dance on other guys but you still want to call him your boyfriend, then tell him that. Communication, Kiss.” I clap him on the shoulder. “You should try it.”
I try to take a step out of the closet, but Aleks stops me with a hand planted firmly on the center of my chest. “Okay, so let’s talk then, Gin.” He stares at me in all seriousness, and I shuffle nervously. Like a switch that has been flipped, he seems to have completely forgotten his panic, his focus now solely on something else.
Me.
“What is going on with you and Hendrix?”
If my skin wasn’t so bronze, he’d be able to see the way all the blood rushes from my face. “W-what do you mean?”
He gives me a look that says, “Don’t even try,” and begins to tally his points on his fingers. “All of a sudden, you two are the bestest friends again, you dipped the New Year’s party with him—yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice—and Micah finally broke and told me everything he knows about the almost-kissing incident.”
“Oh.”
“Mhm.” His hands find purchase on his hips as he continues to stare me down. “So?”
“So . . .”
“Get on with it, man.”
“I . . .” I worry my bottom lip, wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to say. Eventually, I settle with, “I can’t tell you—”
“Gin!”
“—yet.”
He stops a half second away from yelling at me, carefully considering my words. “You can’t tell me . . . yet,” he repeats slowly.
I nod.
“So, then when?”
“Umm. After . . . more?” I say, but it sounds like more of a question because I’m trying to keep my promise to Hendrix.
Aleks, thankfully, knows me well enough to listen between the words and, after a quick internal deliberation, makes a sound of eureka. “Oooh. I get it. You’re waiting to see if he’s down for the whole gay—”
“Bi—”
“Dick and balls and ass thing,” he corrects sarcastically.
“Actually, he’s familiar with anal.”
He quirks a brow. “I assume you mean topping? Or has Sour been doing some self-exploration?”
My cheeks heat at that mental image. “Only the first,” I mutter, then pause. “I think.”
“I’m sure Micah can give him some tips.”
“Kiss!”
