Page 53 of Melting the Ice

“Yeah, there’s always gonna be something better, isn’t there?” Brody said, and Dean nodded.

For a moment, they were both quiet.

Brody didn’t know what Dean was thinking, buthewas thinking that he liked this. This touching base with each other on the couch. Even if there was a respectable three feet between their thighs.

Then Dean said, “I didn’t know you watched football.”

Caught red-handed.

“I . . .uh . . .” Brody gave up. “I don’t normally, but this lab report was kicking my ass, and I thought, why not put it on? See what the fuss is about?”

Dean grinned. “And ’cause your roommate was playing, right?”

Brody rolled his eyes, but he was not going to shy away from this. “Actually, ’cause myfriendwas playing.”

Dean looked surprised by this admission, which was ridiculous. They werefriends. Admittedly, friends who had an elephant in the room they were scrupulously ignoring, but friends nonetheless.

“Don’t tell me we’re gonna have to go over this again,” Brody said with mock seriousness. “We covered this the other night.”

Dean smiled again. Twice in one night. A new record! Brody mentally patted himself on the back.

Already Dean seemed lighter than when he’d come in, and if that was something Brody could do for him—take him out of his own head, a bit—then he’d gladly do it.

Because they were roommates. Because they were friends.

Or something like that.

“We don’t. I . . .we’re friends, yes,” Dean took a deep breath and glanced over at Brody, and even that brief eye contact felt as good as a touch.

Under the pillow, Brody’s cock stirred again, deciding it was time to rejoin the party.

“Good,” Brody said, telling himself this was what he wanted. What theybothwanted. But that didn’t mean, deep down, it didn’t feel almost like a lie.

A half-truth they were both telling themselves because it was easier and more comfortable.

“It was so stupid,” Dean said, with a rushed exhale. “I spent the whole game trying to fuckingsmile, and I was so bad at it, Wes thought I was grimacing.”

“Seriously?”

Dean legitimately grimaced now. “I can’t decide which is worse: that I thought smiling on the sideline would actually convince an NFL team to draft me high, or that Wes thought I was fucking grimacing instead of smiling.”

“I . . .uh . . .” Brody didn’t know what to say. “You can totally smile.”Sometimes you smile and it takes my breath away.

“Yeah.” Dean chuckled humorlessly. He didn’t sound convinced.

“Here. Try it right now.” Brody reached over and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before he remembered it waswaybetter if they didn’t touch.

Dean just stared at him, those unearthly light green eyes meeting Brody’s own.

For a single moment, Brody thought that maybe he’d be the one to suggest another experiment.

But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

Instead Dean said, “How’s this?” And then he cracked a smile. It was too rehearsed, too much teeth. Too much, Brody realized, like forcing it out actually hurt him.

That must’ve been what Wes had meant.

And if you knew Dean—and Wes clearly did—you knew the difference between that and hisrealsmiles.

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