Page 54 of Just Bromantically Invested

We reach my truck, and his car is parked right behind it.

“Thanks. You did too.”

Penn shrugs. “I only mock up your designs, Madeline.”

“And I follow those designs to make sure it works, Penelope.”

A relieved smile breaks across his face, and I feel it too. That hope that we can get things back to normal but, at the same time, can I actually move on with everything hanging over my head? Is that his plan? Just pretend like nothing happened and keep being best friends?

That might work, if I didn’t have to face Lana at some point.

I won’t be able to look her in the face after what I did to her boyfriend, and Idefinitelywon’t be able to grow to like her, given what I still want to do to him.

Because now that I’ve had that first taste, I want Penn more than ever.

I clear my throat. “We should probably talk about Damien’s offer.”

Penn leans against my driver’s-side door. “I’d rather talk about what happened.”

“You would?”

“Yeah.” His eyebrows pull together, and a flash of hurt crosses his face. Before he can talk, I get in first.

“I’m sorry.”

“You what?”

“It wasn’t planned, I want you to know that. I respect when you say you’re straight, and I have no idea what came over me, but?—”

“I came on to you.”

His words echo between us. He did. I know he did. But at the same time, I was prepared to take the brunt of the responsibility if it made things easier on him. I always only want things to be easy for Penn. Even after what he did, I still love him so deeply I don’t think I’ll ever stop.

His voice drops low, and when he blinks rapidly, I realize it’s because his eyes are all wet.

“I’m not straight, Madden.”

The confession lingers for longer than it should. I know sexuality is a spectrum. I know things change. Even with that knowledge, it’s still so hard to apply it to Penn because I’ve been drilling the dreaded S-word into my head for as long as I’ve known him.

I kick the gravel in the gutter. “Oh, yeah? Since when?” I’m not sure why I sound so fucking defensive.

“Very, very recently.”

“Like, since I had your dick in my hand recently?”

His lips hitch up on one side. “That was more or less the deciding factor, yeah. I don’t know when it started, but it was only recently that I acknowledged something had changed.”

He’s telling me everything I’ve ever wanted to hear from him, and that connection in my soul is trying to trick me into believing that this is right. It’s us.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” he says. “I value our friendship way too much, and I’m sorry I crossed those lines, but I justcouldn’t… I couldn’t …”

The last thing I want is to find out he used me for some experiment, not when it meant so much to me. “I get it,” I say, saving him from finding the words. “It happened, it felt great, and now we move on.”

He doesn’t look much happier about that. “As friends?”

The word fucking hurts, but I refuse to let him know that. I nudge him gently. “Asbestfriends, moron. That’s … that’s what we are. Right?”

“Always.” He steps closer, then hesitates. “Can I hug you?”

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