Page 40 of The Southern Thirst Trap

“I could never hate you, not for this,” I tell him. “You don’t get to choose who you’re attracted to and love. It’s just wonderful that you get to find love at all, and I hope you’ll look for it where you actually want to, now.”

“Well, I did sort of lead you on and take up the last few months of your free time with a really slow build-up to nothing, so I was prepared for the worst.”

I laugh, but I can see why he was worried. We both have things we need to come clean about. And now it’s my turn. “Zander kissed me,” I say cautiously, feeling an uncharacteristic blush steal up my face until it’s hot.

“That man looks like he can kiss the hell out of anyone. Fuck, I bet he’d turn half my teammates if he really put some effort into it. How was it?” Knox looks up shyly, and I glimpse the real him staring out at me from his deep espresso eyes for the first time. He’s vulnerable, but doing his best to let me in, and it opens my heart to him even more.

I think back to that first night Zander showed up at my house and had me play bartender for him while he worked through his work crises and whatever reasons had driven him to my doorstep. When he kissed me so gently, then said some of the most vicious words he could, I was left reeling.

“We were fighting. He just showed up at my house asking why we’d been suddenly thrown back together and why I hadn't told him about Hendricks. I told him I didn’t owe him any explanations after he cut off all communication and ghosted me. It wasn’t like either of us planned for a kiss to happen. One second we were arguing, and the next he had me in his arms, kissing me so fucking softly I didn’t even think to stop him. When I called him out on it, he reminded me what hadn’t been on the table and why I shouldn’t have wanted him after. It was… confusing.”

Knox whistles. “He’s all up in your head, Harley, damn!”

I close my eyes in pain and lift my hand to stop him. “Okay, if we’re going to be gay besties now, you have to stop calling me Harley. I have much better nicknames than a fucking mid-life crisis motorcycle manufacturer or a psychotic clown-loving baddie bitch. Pick anything else.”

Knox leans his head back and laughs so hard he shakes the couch. “Why didn’t you say something earlier? I wouldn’t have called you that if I knew you didn’t like it.”

“I didn't have the heart when we were kind of dating. Now that you’re out with me and I’m not trying to get you in my bed, you’re getting everything unfiltered.”

“Fine.” Knox laughs again. “What would you prefer I called you?”

“My friends call me Lolo. I’d like you to be my friend.”

“Friends is good. Since that’s out of the way,Lolo,” he says, emphasizing the nickname before he continues. “Why is Zander Olsen fucking with your head now after, what, five years? He has the audacity to kiss you and then tell you that you shouldn’t expect anything from him? Do I need to crack his head open?” He squeezes his massive fist until his knuckles pop ominously and gives me a look that tells me he would, if I asked him to.

I shake my head, but smile appreciatively. “I think Zander is confused by his own feelings, and it’s messing with me,” I answer, leaning back into the comfy couch cushion and blowing out a breath. “I don't know how to feel, or what to expect. He’s so intense. One second, he’s pushing me away, saying he blocked all contact because he never promised more, the next he’s showing up wanting to know about Hendricks and, like, woo me, or something.”

“Wait, I have to follow this up before you continue. Woo you? Do men know how to woo women in this century? That sounds like a romance novel, but, like, the ones from back in the day when they had Fabio on the cover. All shirtless dudes and fainting women with heaving bosoms.”

“What do you know about romance novels, football player?” I ask, narrowing my eyes and wondering if I’m going to get to know the real Knox Contraire, reading habits and all.

He gives me a sheepish grin and rubs the back of his neck. “Truth? My mom loved those damn books. She would come home from the grocery store each week with a new paperback and leave them around the house. Even at a young age, I was interested in the dudes on the covers, so I would pick them up from time to time and read a few chapters, looking for the sex. Whatever was in those books was hot as hell when I was twelve.”

“Oh my God, you’re not kidding!” I say, leaning forward and grasping his arm. “I loved my mom’s V.C. Andrews books when I was in my teens. Those were some messed up stories, though. Locking kids in attics, the brothers falling in love with their sisters. But the new romance authors putting stuff out now?” I purse my lips like I’m eating spicy food and fan my face. “It’s even better. No closed-door bullshit. They tell you everything that is going down, from the intimate noises to what is going where and how the characters feel. It’s hot.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to borrowing some books,” Knox says, laughing.

“I have a bunch that are male-male, too,” I tell him, raising my eyebrows. “You don't have to read just straight romance to get your kicks anymore.”

“No shit?” he says, his eyes widening and a look of genuine interest crossing his face. “They make gay romance novels now?”

I nod enthusiastically. “In whatever flavor you’re into, whether it’s vanilla or something kinkier. But they’re usually love stories at heart, no matter who the characters are or what they're doing. I love them. I’ll get you an e-reader and a list of titles you may like to download.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing someone has ever promised.” He puts his hand on his chest and stares at me with true feeling. “You know, I think I like us even better this way. Thank you for making my first time coming out to someone so… easy. It’s made the idea of telling my family a little less nauseating.”

“Thank you for being your authentic self with me, even though you were scared of telling me. I like us this way, too.”

He gives me a shy look before he moves his gaze away. “Will you still be my date to galas and events? I don’t think I’m quite ready to come out to the world.”

“Knox, I’d do anything for you, short of something that could get me thrown in jail because I have a kid who needs me here. Being your date to a gala would be totally fine.”

“Good, because there’s one this Saturday I’ve been asked to speak at, and I’d like you to come with me.”

“You’ve got yourself a date.”

twenty-three

Zander

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