Page 41 of Just Bromantically Invested

“Because I am.”

“But I thought it wasn’t a bad thing.”

I huff and meet her eyes. “It’s not a bad thing. But I’m suddenly reevaluating everything about my life, and it’s a lot, so can you please let me do that without claiming homophobia?”

She blinks at me before relaxing back into her chair. “Sorry. I guess I’m a bit defensive about it, huh?”

“A bit. That town really messed with you.”

“It did.” Lana props her head on her hand. “You okay?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Madden’s usually the one I talk to about this stuff. This might be the only time in the history of our friendship that I’ve found something I can’t go to him with. It makes me feel more alone than ever.

“I’m confused,” I whisper. “I … how can I be twenty-seven and be only figuring this out now?”

“That is a very, very long answer with a whole lot of paths we don’t have time for this close to midnight. But it’s common, there’s nothing wrong with you, and yes, it’s entirely possible.”

“What if I fuck things up?”

“I fuck things up all the time, and me and Mr. Bigglesworth are doing just fine.”

“You don’t understand.” My heart hurts to even think about it. “I can’t fuck things up with Madden.”

Lana watches me for a long time. “Has it occurred to you that maybe you’ve been in love with Madden for a while now?”

“I’m not in love with him. I love him. He’s my best friend, but it’s … different.”

“Sure.” She drums her fingers again. “But maybe give that some more thought. You know. If you want to.”

“What do I do?” It’s more of a rhetorical whine than something needing an actual answer because what I need to do is bury my head and never ever bring this up to Madden. He’s so fucking special whether I love him or I’m in love with him, it doesn’t matter, because I won’t do a damn thing to ruin our relationship. I’ve already done way too much.

“My advice? Let yourself be open to something happening. You’re clinging to this straight label like it’s Velcro, but what if it’s just … not? What if he likes you and you like him and you two could be very happy together?”

“But—”

“What if, Penn.What ifisn’t reality; it doesn’t need ‘buts’ to bring it down.”

“What if, huh?”

“Exactly.” She smiles sweetly. “Nothing has to change straightaway. Hang out with him like you usually would, and be open to seeing what could happen.”

She’s making it sound so fucking easy, but it isn’t. Being with a man isn’t something I know how to do; it’s not even something I’m sure that I’m comfortable with. Maybe my reaction to Madden was a fluke. It might have happened while we were at the beach as well, and a handful of other times, but that doesn’t mean anything.

Probably.

And there I go shutting it all down again. Focusing on the why-nots instead of the what-ifs. Can I really be open to it?

I don’t have an answer to that, but then another question quickly replaces that one.

Do I want to be?

And this time, I have an answer.

Yes.

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