Page 102 of The Bro Pact
But there are other people working in the garage right now, and it wouldn’t be smart, or fair to Kyle.
“You’re welcome, Ky. I had the time of my life.” I reach out, tracing his cheekbone with the pad of my thumb before quickly dropping my hand.
We face the wall again, both of us taking a deep breath to calm the building lust.
I reach for the first photo of the dunes, unclipping it from the string lights and holding it in my palm as if I’m not only tucking away memories, but also our happiness.
“I really don’t feel like starting summer school on Monday,” Kyle says with a resigned sigh.
The mood shifts further when I unclip the next picture. “And I really don’t feel like working in the shop.”
But neither of us has a choice when we’ve already committed our time and given our word.
Man, the rest of the summer is going to blow.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
KYLE
You know that depressing feeling when vacation’s over, the perfect illusion is shattered, and you’re back to the everyday grind of life?
Well, it completely sucks balls, and that’s where I’m at.
No more seeing the world, no more stargazing on top of the RV, and no more sleeping in the same bed as Ren every night.
Summer school just started, and Warren’s been working nonstop at the garage, so we’ve hardly had any time together.
Not to mention Marissa keeps calling and texting me incessantly, especially now that I’m home. Ren still doesn’t know, and it makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong, even though I haven’t responded to any of her messages.
She wants to talk.
Made a mistake.
Wants me back.
But all I can think about isRen.
Kissing him.
Fucking him.
Seeing more of the world with him.
But there’s also this nagging voice in the back of my head urging me to follow the path I set for myself long before I fell formy best friend. And that voice is telling me to man up and call Marissa back—she deserves a second chance. Ilovedher.
I’ve never felt so confused in all my life; it’s like two different sides of myself are warring with each other.
Marissa is the logical choice that lines up with my future and my career plans.
But Warren is the passionate, all-consuming, kiss-you-under-the-stars choice.
I mean, if I was gay. Or bi.
But I’m not.
Right?
Just as I’m teetering on the edge of breaking the pact and possibly even our friendship by calling Marissa back and telling her let’s try again, my phone buzzes.
