Page 53 of Just Bromantically Invested

Madden made sure my dick wasn’t neglected last night, and here it is, rising to the occasion.

“Want to take this somewhere else?” the cute guy asks.

My heart sets off so rapidly I almost feel sick.

I could do it. I could go and hook up with this man, just like I’ve hooked up with so many women in the past. At this stage, I think I’d like it too.

But instead, I choke out, “I’m taken.”

“Pity,” he says but thankfully doesn’t question me on it.

We dance for a while more before another guy moves our way, with apparently more promise than me.

As soon as I’m deserted, I make my way off the dance floorand out of the club. Stepping out into the dark, busy street is a harsh jolt back to reality, where everything feels so different.

Because I feel different.

So far, I haven’t wrapped my head around it all, and there’s still a bunch I want to dissect, but now that I’ve figured out the attraction is there, now that I’ve let myself be open to it, my sexuality doesn’t seem like such a big, earth-shattering thing.

Only Madden does.

If it had been him pressed up against me tonight, I don’t know that there are any limits I wouldn’t have pushed.

My cock is hard the whole way home. I’m drunk off the thought of all those men, but once I fall back on my bed, once I wrap my hand around my dick, Madden’s the only one on my mind. I jerk myself off to the memory of last night, shamelessly playing his body, his cock through my mind. I feed myself a barrage of images that are all Madden, and when I come, everything about it feels right.

I wait for the guilt that never comes.

Instead, warmth spreads slowly across my chest.

Whatever the hell spooked him last night, I need to fix it. I need to make things better.

I need Madden.

Chapter 19

Madden

The first time I see Penn is at work. We do a walk-through of the clients’ backyard and make sure they’re happy with the work that we’ve done. One of my favorite parts of the job is seeing the way their eyes light up at how we’ve transformed a space from usable to livable. In a year or two, once the trees have grown in and matured, it’s going to be a perfect place to spend time.

While I might go minimal when it comes to my clothes, I don’t believe in that for the gardens I do. I like to give them life, personality, have them be somewhere people want to spend time.

When I have my own place one day, I want it to be like Bertha. Overgrown, full of secrets and possibilities. Somewhere I can relax and have the entire world disappear.

Our clients thank us, and then we leave, stepping out into the street. Just the two of us.

I miss my best friend. I miss him so much it hurts.

All I want to do is swamp him in a hug and apologize for the other night, to find out why he did it and how he’s feeling and whether that was his first time with a man and did it mean anything?

The whirlwind of thoughts doesn’t make it past my mouth, though, because talking about it draws even more attention to what a shitty friend I am and what a shitty boyfriend he is. Just thinking about that causes pain through my ribs. Whenever I pictured being with him, Penn was the perfect boyfriend.

I glance over and find him already watching me. Penn’s gaze is steady, searching, and my guts are a squirmy twist of knots and questions.

“You did an amazing job,” he says.

Of course, the first words out of his mouth are about work. Does he think I did an amazing hand job too? Won’t know because I won’t ask him.

I study his face, hoping to pick his feelings out of his mind. If he at least felt guilty about betraying Lana, I could work with that, but his whole face is relaxed. It’s like we’ve switched places, where I’m the neurotic mess and he’s got everything under control.

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