Page 26 of If You Say So

“It’s a simple question, Blake. Either you’re joking or you’re not—no fucking middle ground,” I practically growl at him.

He spares me a glance before resting back on his bean bag and staring up at the night sky.

I lean forward and glare at his relaxed form. How can he just sit there, so relaxed, like he doesn’t have a care in the world after making that kind of announcement?

“Blake.”

“Nate.”

“Come on, man…”

His eyes slide my way. They’re hard and challenging. “Come on, what?”

I run a hand through my hair, frustrated as hell. He wants me to say it out loud. He wants me to put a voice to all this sexual tension between us.

“This… Th-Th…”

My old friend fear rips through me, and I can’t get the words to come out.Us. This. The flirting, the touching, the jacking off together.No matter how I try to phrase it, I can’t say it.

Finally, I settle on a neutral ground. “You know what.”

“Do I?”

“Yes,” I grit out.

“Huh. I can’t think of anything…”

I fly off the chair and he’s quick on his feet, meeting me halfway. We stand face to face, chests heaving, nearly brushing.

“You done?” I say to him.

His tongue darts from his mouth and rolls over his bottom lip before he says, “Areyou?”

The action causes that now familiar stirring in my cock, and I fight to suppress a moan.

I hate that this is happening, that I’m so fucking attracted to him that I can’t even control my body when I’m pissed at him. I hate that I want my best friend in ways that are so unfamiliar to me, in ways that could change everything we know.

And most of all, I hate that I don’t know if he feels the same or not.

I flick my eyes away for only a moment while I contemplate my next move.

Do I test the waters? Do I try to find answers for us both? Do I…kiss him?

“Bla—”

Then his lips are pressing against mine. We don’t move. Time stands still, and the world goes quiet, or at least it seems that way.

The feeling is foreign, but not unwelcome. His lips are much softer than I predicted they’d be, but it’s not quite what I was expecting. It’s…more.

His touch is gentle, hesitant, like he’s so scared he’ll screw this up that he’s too afraid to do anything.

Taking the initiative, I step closer to him, our lips sealing tighter. Tentatively, I reach out, my fingers colliding with his. I lift my other hand and bring it to his face, cradling his cheek in my palm. He presses into my touch and reaches out on his own, his left hand landing on my hip and pulling me into him.

After what seems like ages, we finally move our lips. The touch is gentle, cautious. My thumb sweeps over his cheek and he releases a soft sigh as his fingers curl into my hip.

Feeling emboldened by his reaction, I tilt his head to the side and sweep my tongue across his lips. He opens at once, and our mouths begin their own dance as we finally give in to everything. We pull at one another, trying to get as close as we possibly can, like we know there’s no way we’ll ever let his happen again…like we know we need to savor this like these are our last breaths.

Our last first kiss.

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