Page 11 of Summer of the Boy

Ridley hasn’t been opening and closing his fists as much as before, and he looks at me when he talks more often than not. Actually looks at me. It fills my heart with I don’t even know. Just that I never want him to look anywhere else, ever.

He’s my best friend, but that thing which took root inside me the day I met him has been steadily growing. Although he’s never said that he’s falling for me, from the way he acts when we’re together, I think it’s growing in him too. We’re more than regular best friends. That I’m sure of. What I’m not sure of, what Ineed to know, is where will this end up?

Time to pull out the big questions. The ones I’ve been avoiding to keep him from feeling pressured. And if I’m being honest with myself, to keep him from freaking out and cutting ties with me altogether. Because that would royally suck.

I pull in a breath—here goes everything—“Have you ever kissed a boy before?”

And I lose him. Body goes rigid. Gaze drops to our feet. Hands drop to his hips. Open. Close. Open. Close. Zero eye contact.

“Rid?” I ask again. I want those big, beautiful hazels back.

“No,” he whispers.

No? No he never kissed a boy or no he won’t answer me?

An overwhelming urge to feel him takes over and I reach out to run my finger up his arm. The goosebumps raise under my touch, giving me an idea of his answer and empowering me to keep going. “What about now, are you interested in kissing men?”

I know what he’s told me about attractions in the past, but I’m also not stupid enough to think his mother’s brainwashing couldn’t have an effect on him.

He sighs long and loud. “No.”

Oh.This again?

“Not men...”

Well dammit, I called this one wrong.

“Man,” he continues.

Oh?

Rid, man, don’t keep me hanging here.

“Do I know this man?” I ask. Fingers crossed. He has my full attention.

Half his mouth spreads into aRidley smirk. The one which never ceases to melt my heart. And he looks up through his lashes. Straight-up crazy, unadulterated desire rushes through my veins when he looks at me through those lashes. It’s his most powerful weapon.

“Yes,” he answers.

“What’s his name?” I figure I know, but it’s good to get the verbal confirmation, just the same.

My confidence may have been my undoing becausepoof. Ridley doesn’t justnotlook at me through those lashes any longer, he turns his whole body away from me.

Well, that clearly went the wrong direction.

I’m about to implement damage control by changing the subject when—concentrating hard on his feet—he answers, “Leif. Fraser.”

Yes.

I fist-pump the air.

“Would you kiss me, Rid?”

His hands.

Open. Close.

Open. Close.

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