Page 89 of Our Secret to Keep

How the fuck dare he?

I go from panic to full-blow rage monster in one second flat, shouting into the phone. “A hug, Dad? Really? Have you never hugged one of your teammates or friends? Come on. This is bullshit. How many of your teammates have you slapped on the ass after a game? No one made a big deal about it. No one called you fucking gay.”

“I never engaged in the kind of activities that you and Nate are into.”

“Oh my god. Stop. If you think for one second I’m going to believe you never had a threesome before you met Mom?—”

“Not with other men,” he interrupts. “Not with my teammates. Do you see where I’m going with this, River? Have all the threesomes you want with women?—”

“Just not with Nate. Got it. Can I go now, Dad?”

My blood feels like it’s boiling in my veins. Every inch of my skin is hot, now covered in a thin sheen of sweat. How can one person make me so angry? I don’t even care those girls from the movie theater filmed us. People have been doing that shit my entire life.

“Sure,” my dad says. “Alanna will call you after your first class to discuss cleaning up your image.”

“My image is fine,” I snap, anger dripping from my tone.

“This isn’t the first time someone accused you of being gay, River. If you are, you need to tell me or Alanna. We can fix this.”

“I’m not gay. And I don’t needfixing.”

Some days, I think I’m mostly gay. Not even bisexual. But other days, I see a pretty girl on campus and thinkI would fuck her. Then, Nate flashes into my head, and all sense goes out the window. I can only see Nate when he’s in the room, consuming every aspect of my life.

“Please don’t call me again today. I have a game tonight and don’t need any distractions.”

He blows air into the receiver, annoyed with my request, but says, “Good game, good luck.”

My dad says this before every game. He’s a little superstitious. I don’t need luck or his well wishes, not with my skills.

After I hang up the phone, Nate stumbles into my room, a pair of black boxer briefs sitting crooked on his hips. My cock notices him before my brain does, so I place a pillow on my lap.

Nate sits on the bed beside me, unaware of my hard dick peeking out of my boxers, wanting to say hello to him. “Did you see TikTok yet?”

I shake my head. “No, but my dad just called to yell at me.”

“Yeah, figured he would. I used to idolize your dad. But he’s such a dick once you get to know him.”

“Tell me about it.”

He shoves his phone at me. “We’re gonna have to fuck half the girls on campus just to prove we’re not gay.”

“Not happening.” I take the phone from him. “Dr. Swanson said no sex until you get your urges under control. Fucking a bunch of women isn’t going to prove shit.”

Nate frowns. “Just watch the damn video. It doesn’t look or sound good for either of us. The audio is really clear.”

The Kingston Spy has thousands of comments on the video. God, I hate this fucking girl. It has to be a puck bunny or someone out for revenge.

I hit Play, and I’m standing in front of Nate on the screen, but his eyes are on his shoes.

“I hate this,” he mutters. “I don’t want to be this way.”

“Your addiction is ruining our lives,” I say, stepping closer. “But we can figure this out together.”

“Promise?”

I nod. “I got you.”

Nate throws his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. I hug him back like my life depends on it. We cling to each other, looking more like lovers than best friends, which is how it feels anymore. We became more than friends once we crossed the line, even if Nate couldn’t see it.

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