Page 102 of Best Served Cold

It didn’t matter.

This thing with Noah was messed up and complicated. He wasn’t into guys, and we weren’t friends. I’d tried to offer an olive branch earlier when I stayed after work to talk to him and give him a distraction. Had I made things worse?

Had he gone out and gotten shitfaced because of me?

He’d told me he grew up religious. Had us messing around fucked him up?

Still reeling, I got him to my car and folded him into the front seat.

I got in with him, then leaned over to do up his seat belt.

“You smell good.”

“Thanks.” I pulled the belt around him, but the locking mechanism caught before I could get it clasped.

“Why do I smell baby powder?”

“That’s probably me too. Whatever they put in the smoke machine at work smells like baby powder.” I released the lock feature and tried again, being careful to pull the belt with even pressure.

“Here.” He gulped in a breath and theatrically sucked in his stomach.

I got the buckle clasped and sat back in my seat.

“Had to move the chub out of the way.” He patted his belly.

“You’re not chubby.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened my texts.

“Yeah, I am.”

“No, you’re not. You’re perfect.”

He made a disbelieving sound.

I sent Biggs a text, then added the same one to our group chat with Nick and Gray.

River: everythings fine. Taking him home now.

I typed out a quick text to send to my brother.

River: hes drunk but okay. No issues. Just a few assholes trying to start shit. See you at home.

Noah leaned his head against the headrest as I started the car. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For coming to get me. For not being a dick.”

“What really happened?” I asked softly. “Is any of this because of what we did?”

“Yes. But not for the reasons you may think.” He rolled his head so he was looking out the window. “I... I didn’t know, or at least I wasn’t ready to admit it, but I’m…not straight.”

“You’re not?” I said carefully.

I was so far out of my element here. I didn’t know how to deal with feelings or epiphanies. River was the empathetic one. He knew how to talk to people and not make things a thousand times worse like me.

“Nope.” He popped the p in that way drunk people did because it felt fun. “Mostly straight, but not totally.”

“I’m not either,” I offered.

---