Page 49 of Curvy Cabin Fever
“I’m straight,” I say, forcing the words out, like if I say them enough times, they’ll make sense again.
Right?
Morgan tilts his head slightly, and I hate that fucking thoughtful look on his face. Like he’s seeing something in me I can’t see myself.
He moves closer and tips my chin lightly, his eyes searching mine. His breath is warm on my face as he counters, “You sure about that?”
The question punches the air from my lungs. I stiffen, my fingers curling into fists. “I?—”
Morgan takes a slow step back, giving me space, but his voice is too fucking soft now. “I’m not trying to make you something you’re not, Rhett,” he explains, like he’s offering me a fucking lifeline. Like he knows exactly how much I’m struggling. “But maybe…” He trails off, searching my face before shaking his head. “Maybe you don’t have to fight it so hard.”
The air feels thick, the space between us is still too charged, too full of something I don’t have words for.
I should tell him to fuck off.
I could storm out like I usually do. Instead, I stand there, breathing like I just ran a goddamn marathon, feeling exposed in a way I never have before.
“It’s not right,” I whisper, my voice cracking with need for him. My fucking need for aman.
My parents would die if they knew I was feeling like this.
I swallow and clench my jaw, closing my eyes.
“Don’t think about them,” Morgan commands softly, and a hard lump forms in my throat. “They’re wrong. How you feel…it’s okay.”
He knows—ofcourse, he knows. He’s my best friend. And it’s okay for him—his family supports him and whatever he does.
But me?
I was adopted into a family that made it clear who I was supposed to be.
Grateful. Good.Normal.
Notthis.
Not wanting mymalebest friend.
Not standing in a cabin with a man I shouldn’t be craving, shouldn’t be staring at him like I want him to press me up against the goddamn counter and?—
Fuck.
I shake my head, shoving the thought down so deep I don’t know if I’ll ever claw my way back out.
Morgan watches me too closely, his brown eyes filled with something I can’t face right now.
Like he’s waiting for me to stop lying to myself.
I don’t know how to do that—I don’t knowwho I amwithout the walls I’ve built.
But then there’s Aria…I can’t be…gay.
I’m about to move past him when my body freezes, refusing to move. It’s like the universe is intervening, telling me todo something.I reach out, my hand trembling as Morgan’s eyes widen, following the journey it makes until it touches his face.
I suck in a breath at the intimacy of the contact, my vision blurring with need as Morgan lifts his hand to cup mine. He closes his eyes and tilts his head to the left, his lips caressing my palm. Not kissing, just touching.
A noise leaves my lips that has his eyes snapping open, connecting with mine as I move closer—me, moving closer to him…
Our foreheads rest against one another, and my throat swells with emotion.
