Page 65 of Full Split
It makes me want to scream.
The person I want most right now is the one I can’t have.
Not out here. Not where people might see. Not where Weston could get confirmation that there’s something going on. Because he definitely has an inkling.
Even so, Weston buys me a beer when we stop for dinner.
“Happy Birthday, bestie,” he says, holding up his own beer to knock against mine.
“It’s not my birthday yet, tomorrow is.”
“Yeah, but this is the only day we can safely celebrate. And the drinking age here is like sixteen or something,” he says. He’s grinning, almost like a dare, but it feels forced.
I look over to Wyatt, not really asking for permission as much as his opinion. He shrugs.
I lift my beer in thanks and take a sip. It’s good. So I have a second with our dinner. And a third after.
I’m not a big drinker. I rarely get ID’d at bars back home, and I do like to have a drink now and then. But I’ve probably only actually been drunk twice in my life, and not excessively so.
Belgian beer is much stronger than beer in the US, so it hits me a little harder than anticipated. As we’re walking through the streets of Antwerp, admiring how the old buildings are lit up, and how friendly people seem as they walk by, I’m comfortably fuzzy.
Weston slings an arm around my shoulders. “I’m surprised you haven’t pulled out your app and found a Belgian Daddy to hook up with. Or maybe there’s a club around here somewhere. We can celebrate properly.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
I feel Wyatt’s tension five feet behind us.
“Nah, I’d rather keep it quiet this year. Besides, we’ve been working so hard we’ve barely spent any downtime together.”
“Yeah, because every chance you get, you’re running off to meet one of your hookups. Classic Niles,” he chirps.
He has a right to be upset, because he knows I’m keeping something from him. It would hurt me if he were keeping something this big from me. And I’ll be honest, I can’t say I’d react well to finding out Weston was sticking it to my mom.
But I don’t appreciate what he’s insinuating, or that he’s doing it in front of his dad, on purpose.
“Oh my God, do you remember that time you got lost in the city after that competition in Pittsburgh last year? Because you met up with that guy’s uncle who came to watch the competition? And he wanted you to?—”
“Do you remember the time my best friend used to not try to slut shame me in public?” I snap, gritting my teeth in the closest semblance of a smile I can manage. There’s no doubt in my mind that my teasing is coming across just as salty as his.
Weston watches me too closely as I laugh him off and try to distract him by talking about Aimee. His answers are clipped. I suggest one more beer as a last resort to overcome the awkward tension between us.
I wake up sometime in the early hours of the morning with a slight headache. My head still feels a little foggy, but clear enough to know exactly what I’m doing.
Without giving it much thought, I slip out of bed quietly, careful not to wake Weston. Although after the night we had, I’m not sure if it matters if he’s actually asleep or just pretending. I can’t process everything that happened with him tonight.
I pad barefoot out of our hotel room and to the door next door wearing nothing but the pair of black boxer briefs I went to bed in. My heart is thudding out of control and my stomach is twisted tight.
I knock anyway, soft and hesitant. I’m almost surprised when the door opens.
Wyatt cracks open the door and peeks out, blinking like he’s not sure it’s me standing here. He opens the door wider. He’s barefoot, sleep-rumpled, and bleary eyed. His hair is flat on one side and sticking up on the other. His T-shirt is wrinkled and sheer enough I can see his nipples.
He’s a mess. Half-awake, probably half-annoyed, and fully exhausted from jetlag and stress. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
“Niles…” His voice is rough, heavy with sleep.
I grin before I can stop myself.
“Want to ring in my birthday with me?”
He stares at me for a moment, blinking like he’s trying to process whether I’m actually standing out in the hall in my underwear, propositioning him at four o’clock in the morning.
