Chapter 3

Nico

Dante will never look at me the same now that he knows. It was written all over his face— confusion, fear, probably disgust, too, but I didn’t stick around long enough to find out.

I wrap my arms around my pillow and hold it close to my chest, telling myself I’m not going to cry about this. How pathetic would that be? Crying over some guy not accepting me the way I am. Not that Dante is just some guy, but from here on out, he’ll have to be. If he can’t accept me, then he doesn’t belong in my life, no matter how much it hurts.

There’s a light rap at my door, probably one of the other guys coming to check on me, maybe to tell me that Dante packed up his room and took off into the stormy night just to get away from me.

“Come in,” I call out miserably.

When Dante’s head slowly peeks through the door, I bolt upright and shove the pillow aside. I wasn’t sitting in here trying not to cry, no way.

“Can I come in to talk?” he asks cautiously.

I hesitate a moment before nodding.

Dante steps inside and gently closes the door behind him with a soft click. Normally, he would’ve come to sit or lay on the bed next to me. We’ve never had much of a personal space bubble when it comes to the two of us. Instead, he hovers near the door, shuffling his feet and avoiding my gaze.

Anger simmers in my stomach until my fingers itch to grab the nearest heavy item and chuck it at his head.

“If you came in here to tell me you think I’m an abomination or something, save it,” I snap.

Dante whips his head up to look at me, his eyes wide and a pink tinge in his cheeks.

“What? Why would I say that?”

“I don’t know. You’re being super weird, I figured it’s because you’re disgusted by me now.”

“Nico,” he says, his voice soft and pleading. I huff out an annoyed breath and shake my head at whatever it is he’s trying to find the words to say. “Nico,” he says again, this time his voice is closer, so I look up and find him standing right beside the bed. I raise my eyebrows, looking at him expectantly, and he sinks down onto the edge of the bed.

“You can sit on the bed properly. Jesus, just because now you know I’m gay, it doesn’t change anything. I’ve always been gay, and I’ve never tried to rape you or whatever bullshit fear you’re struggling with right now.”

“I don’t think that at all,” Dante says with horror in his voice. “Nico, I could never think any of those things about you. You’re my best friend, something as trivial as your sexual orientation isn’t going to change that.”

“Really?” I ask, almost afraid to believe it.

“Really.” He scoots closer and puts a hand on my knee. His touch warms me and makes me want to find a way to get closer.

“Sorry I freaked out, you were so quiet and had this weird look on your face. I figured you hated me.”

“I’m sorry. It caught me off guard, and it took me a minute to wrap my head around it, that’s all,” he explains. “When did you know? I mean, you didn’t just figure this out last week or something, did you?”

“Ha, no,” I chuckle. “I figured it out around puberty when you guys were all talking about jerking off to Victoria’s Secret magazines, and I was stealing my dad’s Men’s Health.”

Dante’s cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink. He always has been shy about sex stuff. To be fair, he was never the one talking about jerking off, that was always the other guys. In fact, Dante never talks about that stuff. Rarely dates, or at least doesn’t talk about it if he does, never talks about women he’s attracted to. If I had a dollar for every time Kris or Hunter sent me a porn clip I just had to see, I could pay off my student loans early. But never Dante.

“So why didn’t you say something sooner? Why’d you sit there and let the guys give you shit about not sticking your hand up Suzy Martin’s skirt in the eighth grade?”

“I was scared,” I admit.

“Scared we wouldn’t accept you?” he asks, hurt written all over his face.

“That was part of it. But also scared that once I told you guys, then I’d have to, like, act gay and stuff. I don’t know, it’s stupid, but I just didn’t want you all to see me differently. I didn’t want to see myself differently. I guess I needed to figure out who I was and stuff before I was ready to say anything.”

“That makes sense.” Dante scoots a little closer. “Did you tell your parents yet?”

“Just last week. They were really cool about it,” I say, and he nods absently, his hand squeezing my knee a little tighter as the wheels seem to turn behind his eyes. “What are you thinking right now?”

“I’m trying to figure out if there were, like, signs I missed or something. Was I only seeing what I wanted to see or were you really good at hiding it?” Dante asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Have you brought boyfriends around and I never realized it?”

“Just one,” I admit.

“Victor?” he guesses, and then grimaces when I nod. “I hated that guy, he was a total tool.”

“I know, that’s why I dumped him.”

“You dumped him because I didn’t like him?” Dante’s eyebrows go up in surprise.

“That wasn’t the only reason, but it certainly wasn’t a point in his favor,” I explain with a shrug. “You’re the most important person in my life, D. I don’t think I could ever get serious about someone you don’t like.”

Dante moves his hand from my knee to my hand, and the warmth in my chest increases.

“So... have you had sex with other guys?” he asks, and I laugh at the audacity of the question. Finally, feeling back on somewhat even footing with my best friend, I reach for the pillow I was clutching before, and I swing it around to smack Dante in the head with it. “Ow, what was that for?” he complains.

“That was for being a nosey motherfucker,” I chide good naturedly.

“I was just curious,” he shrugs and looks at me with an unfamiliar heat in his eyes.

My heart flutters and my breath catches in my chest. Is it possible Dante’s curious because he’s jealous? Is there even the tiniest possibility that he might feel the same way about me that I feel about him?

“I haven’t had full on sex with anyone yet,” I answer his question. “I’ve gone down on a couple of guys and vice versa. And hand stuff.”

Dante licks his lips, and I could almost swear there’s a hitch in his breathing.

“Did you like it?” His voice is huskier now, and the heat in my chest from his touch starts to spread lower.

“Which?” I ask teasingly, holding his eyes and watching his pupils dilate. “Did I like having a cock in my mouth? Did I like the feeling of silky skin wrapped around hard steel stretching my lips and sliding over my tongue? Or are you asking if I liked fucking someone else’s mouth? Feeling the scratch of his beard against my upper thighs as his throat constricted around my cock until I emptied myself into the heat of his mouth?”

There’s no mistaking the bulge in Dante’s jeans or the matching one in mine. Without thinking, I lean forward, my eyes trained on his full, inviting lips. I’ve lost more nights of sleep thinking about his mouth than I care to admit, and now he’s here in my bed with a hard on the size of Texas, and there’s no way I can resist making a move.

Just before our lips touch, he jerks his head back and moves his arm in an attempt to block his erection from sight.

“We should go back out with the other guys, they’re probably wondering what happened,” he suggests nervously, and my heart sinks.

“Right, of course.”

I climb off the bed on shaky legs, and as soon as Dante’s back is turned, I adjust my erection so it’s less noticeable in my jeans.

I can’t believe I just tried to kiss Dante. If he wasn’t freaked out by me before, there’s no doubt I’ve gone ahead and ruined our friendship now.