Follow the River

“And then Roman,” I start, taking a deep breath to prepare myself for what I have to say, “he was more than a best friend to me. He could have been a brother. We were inseparable from the time we met.”

“It sounds like you had two really great friends in your corner, then. Where is Roman now?”

“Out in Oregon somewhere. Going to school. Business, I think.”

“You think?”

I shrug, trying not to let my answer eat at me. “We don’t keep in touch anymore. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in years.”

River rolls slightly, leaning up on his elbow to look at me. It’s dark, only the faint glow of a crescent moon lighting his features, but I see the confusion on his face. “How does someone go from being like your brother to almost nonexistent in your life?”

I let out a huff of air, creating a small cloud in the frigid air between us. His eyes, imploring as ever, ask for only honesty in what I’m willing to share, and it’s astounding how he knows when to push me for more and when he needs to let me come to him.

Tell. Him.

Rubbing my hand over my face, I groan.

“Roman…is bisexual.”

At those three words, River’s brows lift in the darkness, but he doesn’t say anything, just waits for me to continue. “I knew the minute he figured it out for himself. We told each other everything, as best friends do, and it didn’t change anything for us. It was something we never really talked about past the one time.

“But then the night before he left for college, we got drunk as hell while we were taking a late night dip in his pool. More drunk than normal because neither of us were ready for him to move across the fucking country to Oregon, but it wasn’t to the point where we were go

Memories of that night flood me. Roman’s dark hazel eyes staring into my soul from across the pool, drunken and full of lust I thought I was just imagining. Because we were best friends, brothers, but never anything more than that.

“Everything was chill, we were doing our thing like we always did, but then Roman…he swam over to me from across the pool and he just…kissed me. He grabbed the back of my neck and he kissed me and I…and I kissed him back…and I didn’t hate it. I didn’t hate that he was a guy, or he was my best friend or that it was wrong. I…” I sigh, searching River’s eyes. “I kissed him back.”

River nods his head, his eyes dropping to my mouth before coming back to meet my gaze. “So, if you didn’t hate it, what stopped you from being friends?”

And if that isn’t the question of the fucking century.

My mind plays that night back, the softness of Roman’s lips on mine, the whiskey on his tongue as it slid into my mouth to tangle with my own.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he murmurs, his voice husky against my mouth as he continues to lick and suck at my bottom lip like it’s his God given right.

My fingers twist in his damp hair, bringing his entire body tighter against mine. I feel his erection against my thigh, long and thick, only being contained by his swim trunks. And I feel mine too. Desperate to break free from its confines, aching to be touched. Stroked.

“What took you so long?” I ask, sliding my hand between us to palm his cock through his trunks. “Why wait until the night before you leave?”

Because for the past year of my life, my thoughts about my best friend have been anything but friendly. Hell, maybe longer than that. I’ve fought them, pushed them into the back of my brain and continued down the path of least destruction to my mental sanity.

The straight path.

How long has he wanted this?

“Because, Rain,” he says, uttering the nickname he coined for me against my mouth. “I had to know the taste of your lips, if only this once. I had to see if you felt it too.”

I do. I feel it too.

His free hand snakes down, slipping into my trunks to grip my cock, giving it a long, slow tug that has me almost coming on the spot.

“Because I’m selfish, Rain,” he tells me, his lips moving down my neck as he sucks and bites at the skin there. He continues to stroke me and it’s surreal that it’s actually happening and not a figment of my drunken imagination.

Because this is something I’ve wanted, thought of, for far too long too.

Roman’s body presses me back against the edge of the pool, the tile biting into the skin of my back as he continues to jack my cock. “And I have to have you this one time, even if it’s the only time I can.”

“Rain?” River asks, his voice bringing me back to the present.

“Yeah?” I ask, shaking my head clear of the memory fog that consumed it.

“I asked what happened to make you stop being friends.”

I nod, flicking my gaze past his head to the stars above us.

“He kissed me knowing he was leaving. Knowing he wouldn’t ever be coming back. Knowing he could never give me…” I trail off, not knowing where my thoughts were leading me. Or rather, not wanting to go there. “He kissed me, fully knowing it would only confuse me more. And I hated him for that.”

Part of me still does.

Because Doctor Fulton was right the day in therapy when she called me out, telling me I was infatuated with Roman.

Though I couldn’t accept myself as anything other than straight, I was dancing around the idea of him and I for years. Of what it would be like to be together as more than Roman and Rain, best friends. But he never so much as hinted he wanted something more than that until that fucking night in the pool.

And by then, it was too late. Our time had run out.

So I turned to hatred, if only to mask the hurt.

But what I felt for Roman? It doesn’t hold a candle to the way River consumes me entirely.

“And so he left the next day, not looking back? And your friendship was just over?”

I nod. “Pretty much, yeah.”

River licks his lips and nods. I watch the gears turn in his mind, thinking of all the questions he’s dying to ask. The apprehension is written all over his face, the open book he is. “And was he the only guy you’ve kissed?”

I nod again, my hand coming up to cup the back of his head. “He was the last person I kissed until you.”

He smiles, big and brighter than the moon. “So, what you’re telling me is I’m special?”

I roll my eyes and laugh because he most definitely stole that kiss, but I’m not about to remind him. It’s not a lie, though. “Yeah, Abhai

His nose crinkles in amusement as he leans in to place a soft kiss on my mouth, short and sweet and leaving me wanting more.

“Is this your way of telling me because I kissed you, you’re go

I know him better than that, I can see past the jokester exterior to see the vulnerability.

“Never,” I reply, fingers curling into the hair at the back of his head. “I just wanted you to know.”

“Good, I’m glad. I don’t want to lose you when we go back to school. When we leave this place,” he whispers into my throat before kissing my Adam’s apple. “I know it won’t be like it is here, and I understand why. But I can’t go back to enemies either.”