Page 33 of Melting the Ice

“You. Me. Sammy’s,” Ramsey threw over his shoulder as he finished getting dressed after showering.

“I’m—”

“You. Me. Sammy’s,” Ramsey repeated firmly. “Then you can go off and do whatever it is your head’s into.”

Brody wanted to claim it was homework and classes, but he knew that wasn’t all it was.

Still, he had no intention of discussing what had happened on Friday night with Ramsey. He’d go and they’d eat and then he’d retreat back to the apartment with an excuse he had homework to do, and maybe then . . .maybe he’d finally see his roommate again.

"You’re being super weird, even for you,” Ramsey said, as they sat in Sammy’s, drinking protein smoothies and eating Italian subs after a long, wretched practice.

Brody knew he should deny it, but he was tempted, even for a half a second, to confess why he’d only been paying half-attention to anything for two days now—because the other part of his stupid brain was still stuck, back on the couch in his apartment, watching as Dean shuddered to orgasm under his hand.

And the part that wasn’t obsessing about that? Was obsessing about all the questions he couldn’t seem to stifle about his future.

“I’m not,” Brody said.

But he’d known Ramsey would bring it up, especially after practice.

“You totally are, and I just can’t figure out why. It can’t be your knee. It seems to be holding up just fine. You told Zach it was fine.”

“Itisfine,” Brody said, realizing that he’d barely evenconsideredhis fucking knee in the last two days. Practice had come and gone and he’d only thought about it when Zach had brought it up.

Between that fact and his lack of focus during his classes today, maybe that should’ve been enough to convince him that Dean’s absence was a good thing.

But it wasn’t, because Dean’s silence was driving him crazy.

It wasn’t fair of him, because they’d certainly never promised each other anything, even friendship, nevermind anything else, but he wanted Dean to feel the same way he did. Like his skin was too tight for his body.

“Then what’s up, man?” Ramsey questioned, leaning forward, his elbows on the table. “Is it Dean?”

“No . . .no . . .of course not . . .why would it be Dean?” Brody stuttered. “I barely see Dean.”Which is at least half my fault.

“Just wanted to make sure I don’t have to kick his ass,” Ramsey said.

“For being a shitty roommate?”

Ramsey nodded.

“No, he’s actually—” Brody cleared his throat. “He’s great.”So fucking great.

“I thought you barely saw him,” Ramsey said shrewdly.

“Exactly.” That was the safest answer Brody could give.

Ramsey nodded absently. “You left the party early on Friday.”

Brody wasn’t sure if this was Ramsey’s attempt to change the subject and catch him off-guard or what, but he couldn’t possibly know that he hadn’t changed the subject at all.

Right?

Right.

“Yeah, we did,” Brody said, attempting a very casual tone.

Nobody knew what had happened between him and Dean. He couldn’t imagine Dean talking out his mouth about it, and well, Brody certainly hadn’t told anyone about it. Hecouldtell Ramsey about it; he couldn’t say he hadn’t considered the possibility.

He was one of his best friendsandhe was proudly pansexual. But Brody wasn’t particularly proud of the way he’d panicked in the aftermath and then chickened out again when faced with the possibility of talking to Dean about his freakout. He didn’t think Ramsey would be hard on him about it, or give him shit, but he might be conciliatory. Patronizing. Ultimately disappointed. And Brody didn’t want to face any of that. His own thoughts were bad enough without adding Ramsey’s to the mix.

---