Page 25 of The Brotherly Shove

"Fuck you. I'm not an idiot, Lennon. I'm stuck. I'm still there. I'm frozen in time, right where you left me in that hotel room in Houston, and I'm sad, man. I'm sad all the time. You have no idea what that feels like." I snarl, trying to shoulder past him, but he grabs me and pushes me against the row of shelves behind me.

"You don't get to do that. You don't get to tell me what sad is, Breaker. I'm sad all the fucking time, too. And yes, you are an idiot. A big, stupid fucking idiot. But you know what, B? I'm an idiot, too. You think I don't remember that night? You think I don't remember exactly what you smelled like? That mix of bonfire and sweat and menthol and fuckingyou?The way I sat next to you in the bar and couldn't keep myself from leaning in slightly to get a whiff of the peppermint, candy cane scent of your goddamn shampoo every time you shook out that mop of hair on your head? You think I didn't memorize the cute little sounds you made when you were trying to hold in your laugh at my horrible Forrest Gump impersonation? Breaker, do you really think I don't know exactly which vein I traced down your arm as I looked at you lying in bed next to me? How soft you felt against my calloused hands?" He demonstrates by running his pointer finger down my right arm, and even through my jacket and shirt, I know he's following the same path he took the firsttime he did this. He leans down and breathes against the shell of my ear, and an embarrassingly loud whimper escapes my lips.

"Breaker," he whispers against me, and my entire body tightens in response. "I remember every single moment of it. When we were lying in your bed that night, I was buzzing all over. I was fucking drunk on you, had been for a long, long time. Baby, I was so goddamn close to kissing you that night. I'd been so close to kissing you so many times. That's why I was always in your bed. I thought if I kept getting close to you, I'd eventually be brave enough to make a move. I wanted so badly to tell you how I felt about you for so long. The only reason I chickened out and said that stupid, ridiculous, bullshit lie about seeing you like a brother is because when I touched you, when I said that I loved you, you looked like you wanted to be anywhere else but with me. I got scared. In that moment, you looked like you didn't want me. Do you understand what that felt like? I said that I loved you and you just…you said nothing back. So I said the one thing that I hoped would justify dropping the 'L' word on you without having to confess what was truly in my heart. I called you my brother because it was the only thing that I thought would help me push my feelings for you back into the so-called 'friend zone' where they belonged."

He's not touching me, and still I'm trembling as his body cages me against the shelves. I can feel his breath, hot and staggered on my neck and my teeth start to clatter. My mind is racing to catch up to everything Lennon just said to me.

He…wanted to kiss me. No. There's no way. I would've known if my best friend wanted to kiss me, wouldn't I have?

Well that's a stupid fucking thought, seeing as he just admitted to not knowing how badlyIwanted to kisshim.

He's right. We are both idiots.

But still, this makes no sense. Lennon is straight. Lennon has always been straight. He can't have feelings for me. He was just confused. Maybe he still is confused. Hell, I'm fucking confused.

I realize I haven't said anything in a full minute, and my silence is only broken by the sight of Lennon's trembling bottom lip.

"Len," I whisper, barely able to rasp out the syllable. I cannot form a coherent thought with him hovering over me like this, our faces only a breath away from each other, so I say the only thing running through my mind at the moment besides 'touch him, touch him'.

"You're not…you're not into guys..."

Lennon looks at me, his gaze meeting mine. I can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, and I hold my breath as I wait for his response. He presses his hips flush to me, and I gasp in shock when I feel the press of his cock, hard and heavy against my belly. His lips come down, just a whisper away from my own.

"Do us both a favor and stop pretending like you know anything about who I am anymore, Breaker." He grinds his hips up in a slow, sensuous stroke against me before abruptly pushing off the shelf and stomping towards the door of the pantry. When his hand hits the doorknob, he pauses for a moment, then looks to me over his shoulder.

"I'm still in love with you, B," he whispers softly. "I love you, and it's ruining my fucking life."

He stomps out of the pantry, closing the door behind him, and I'm left hard and panting and feeling more fucking lost than I've ever been.

CHAPTER 15

LENNON

The nightof the College Football Championship

Houston, Texas

I wince in my seat, tucked away in the corner of this loud and rowdy bar. In true Texas fashion, there's country music blaring over the speakers and a mechanical bull bucking drunk people off of it's back in the middle of the room. I've already watched three of my teammates try their luck at taming the beast, only to be thrown off in spectacular style. Any other day I'd be one of them, but the deep bruise blossoming on my ribcage from a hard as fuck hit I took earlier in the game prevents me from hopping in line to see how long I can last on the machine.

It's a shame, because I'm convinced I could leave all those motherfuckers in the dust. It's all in the thighs, and my meaty quads were built for bull riding.

Breaker is sitting next to me and leaning towards my arm, the one I have slung over the booth behind us. It's dangerously close to sitting on his shoulders where I really,really, want it to be. I manage to show some restraint, only letting my fingertips brush at the sleeve of his dress shirt ever so slightly. It's painful, holding myself back, but it's a familiar pain. One I've beenfeeling for a year. Ever since I realized that the admiration and love that I feel towards Breaker goes so far beyond "just" a best friend, I've hurt every single day that I've had to pretend that everything I feel is completely platonic.

B is nursing a beer while talking to our team captain, who is sitting on his other side. I decided to stick with water tonight, both because I know I'm going to be popping ibuprofen like candy tonight while I nurse this wound and want to take it easy on my liver, but also because I've decided tonight is the night, and I want to be clear headed for it.

Yup. I'm going to do it. I'm going to tell Breaker that I have feelings for him. Real feelings. Romantic feelings. Sexual feelings. To be honest, I wanted to tell him a year ago, the first time I realized that I didn't just want to be around him all the time, but that I wanted to touch him, kiss him, make him mine. The only thing holding me back besides the possibility of ruining our friendship was the sake of the team. Losing Breaker as my best friend over something like this is guaranteed to destroy me, but losing him and still having to spend every day during the season together? There's no way I'm strong enough to handle it.

So I compromised with myself. I decided that I would wait until this season was over before I opened my mouth. I'm all done, I'm graduating, and if all goes well I'll be getting drafted in a few months. The season is over, we're champs. Tonight is the last night Breaker and I will have to share a hotel room together. If shit hits the fan, I'll be free to lick my wounds and nurse my broken heart in peace.

Breaker laughs at something, throwing his head all the way back like a little kid. I catch a whiff of his delicious peppermint shampoo, the one I sometimes steal when we're at away games just so I can smell like him a little bit, and my insides turn molten. Cap scoots out of the booth, I'm assuming to head to the bar for another drink, and B turns towards me.

"You ready to get out of here?" he asks, and I think of what it might feel like if his intentions behind that question were more salacious. Like he can't sit in this room another minute because he's as desperate to get his hands on me as I am to get mine on him. But no, he just knows I don't want to stay out late tonight. I nod and start to scooch, my hips bumping his as I urge him out of the booth. Thankfully, we manage to sneak out without running into any teammates. That would have inevitably led to guys trying to shove drinks in our hands and begging us to stay in the name of team camaraderie. The walk back to the hotel is short, just a half a block, and Breaker chats away about his chances of being named Team Captain next season. I assure him that he has it in the bag, because he does.

Truthfully, I'm happy for his nervous small talk. It makes it easier for me to push my own nerves down.

The moment we're in the room, I'm yanking at my stiff dress clothes and quickly sliding into my flannel pajama pants. Breaker changes too, keeping his back to me as he slips into a pair of joggers. He always looks away while I change. I know it's because he thinks I'm straight and is trying to respect my boundaries. I don't blame him. I thought I was straight until a year ago, and now that I realize I'm…bi? Pan? Unclear, but definitely queer—I understand the urge to keep my eyes to myself around other men. I avert my gaze quickly, not wanting to ogle him against his will.

I flop onto Breaker's bed as he heads to the bathroom. I turn on the TV, flipping through the channels until I find Forrest Gump only about half an hour in to its running time. Breaker joins me, propping himself up next to me in bed where I lie, and we watch our comfort movie together. The whole time, I'm half paying attention to the movie, half paying attention to Breaker. He's so soft like this, melting into the hotel bed and mouthing the dialogue along with Tom Hanks and Robin Wright. My heartbeats painfully in my chest, and I decide right now is the time. I'm ready to put my heart out on the line.

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