Page 25 of If You Say So

I shake my head, knowing he’s not exaggerating in the least. Our parents aren’t too different, but unlike him, I’ve had years to get used to the whole ‘open marriage’ thing—though that doesn’t make it any less awkward when I run into one of them sneaking their latest fling out of the house. It’s just something we don’t acknowledge anymore. We just sweep it under the rug; that’s what we’re good at.

I make my way to the corner of the tree house where I stashed a cooler and flip open the lid. “You want a drink?”

“Do I ever. Tequila—all of it.”

“I only brought beer, nothing hard.”

He mutters something, and I swear it sounds just likeI’ll show you something hard, but I ignore it and grab us each a beer. I twist the tops off on the way to the makeshift seating area—AKA, a few bean-bag chairs.

“Here.” I hold his bottle out to him as I plop down into the seat. “If I’d have known what a shit day you’ve had, I’d have packed differently.”

“Nah, man. It’s cool. The last thing I need is to get drunk up in a tree house with you.”

My body stills.With me?What in the hell is that supposed to mean? Whyspecificallywith me?

I didn’t plan on getting into this with him so soon, but this is now the second—third if I heard him correctly a few moments ago—time he’s said something flirty.

I can’t ignore this anymore. I need answers.

For courage, I guzzle my entire beer, and then I turn Blake’s way.

“With me?”

It’s all I say. It’s all I have to say, because he knows what I’m asking.

It’s his turn for liquid courage as he takes a small sip from his bottle. He nods. “With you.”

“Specifically?”

“Specifically.”

I settle back into my chair and adjust myself until I’m comfortably looking up at the ceiling…or where the ceiling should be.

Carsen’s always been obsessed with the stars. The kid used to beg us to lie in the grass for hours every night and count them with him. So, when we came up with this genius idea to build a tree house, he insisted we have a removable section in the roof for star-gazing, a feature that’s scored me more ass than not.

I stare up at the night sky, trying to muster up the gumption to ask Blake the biggest question of them all—what the hell this is we’re doing.

But I’m scared, a feel-the-terror-down-to-my-bones kind of scared. If he isn’t into me, if he has a problem with me being bi, then we’re done. Our entire friendship will be flushed right down the fucking toilet, and I’m not ready to lose him.

Alternatively, if heisinto me and heisokay with me being bi, what does that mean for us? Would we kiss? Would bedate? Would we do anything about it at all?

I want to find out. Ineedto find out.

But I’m terrified out of my mind of the outcome.

“Bla—”

“I’m thinking of asking Claire out again.”

I gnash my teeth together so hard I fear I might have broken one as rage washes over me.

Is he fucking kidding me right now? Afterallthis shit, he’s going to get back with his ex? Like we haven’t been spending the last few weeks testing the waters?

I cannot believe the asshole.

“You’re joking, right?”

He purses his lips, contemplating, and then takes another drink from his beer. “I…I don’t think I am.”

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