“It’s fine, Grady. We were kids. I’m over it.”
I don’t believe that, but I don’t push him. “So, you didn’t have sex with anyone in high school?”
“Nope. I was a virgin until my sophomore year of college.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him who, but a dark part deep inside keeps me from doing it, and I know it’s because I’m not certain I can handle the answer. Thinking about a guy with Ryan, pinning him down and thrusting inside . . .
Okay. That’s enough of that.
What the fuck is wrong with me today?
I shake that thought, but it’s Ryan who speaks next, answering my unasked question. “My roommate—they put me in the athletic dorms—it was his cousin.”
“Wasn’t that risky?”
He shrugs. “I was tired of having no experience by that point. My roommate was cool, but I didn’t tell him or anyone else. But when his cousin stayed with us a few days, I instantly got a flirty vibe from him. It just sort of happened when Roman went out with the rest of the guys and left us alone.”
I hate that his first time was out of desperation. “So, you just jumped the first gay guy you met?”
He punches me in the arm, and I wince but know it wasn’t nearly as hard as he could have hit me. “Asshole.” He grins. “No. He was good-looking and charming and knew who he was. I was attracted to him.”
“Doesn’t sound like a love story.”
He studies me for an uncomfortable minute but then shrugs his large shoulders. “Nah, but it was decent. Gave me some experience I wanted.”
“What about your parents? What do Greg and Cindy say about this?”
He cringes, and my hackles rise. Were they assholes about it? He recovers, but I can still see the hurt in his eyes. “They um . . .”
“Do they know?”
He nods. “They know. They just ignore it.”
I sit up, facing him again. “What do you mean they ignore it?”
“They just keep hoping I’ll bring a nice girl home someday.” He tries to laugh it off, but it’s not fucking funny.
“That’s some serious bullshit.”
He winces, and I feel like an asshole, but I know I’m not wrong. “It’s fine, Grady.”
“It’s not though. What the fuck is their problem?”
He sits up too, on the edge of his seat, ready to bail. “It could be so much worse. You know where we come from. What they fucking preach relentlessly. They didn’t disown me.”
“No, they just fucking ignore an entire piece of you.”
I watch his throat as his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, clearly hurt by their bullshit. “Stop.” He pins me with a pleading look. “Please.”
I nod my head regretfully. “Fine.”
He stands up. “You can have free rein of the house. What’s mine is yours.”
“Like that Everclear song?”
He actually laughs at the memory, of us arguing over who was going to make it and who wasn’t, of who would buy the other one a house. I’d always belt out the Everclear song, singing “I will buy you that big house” as loud as I could, which usually resulted in him covering his ears or punching me to shut me up.
“You’re a prick.”
“Always.” I tip the beer in his direction.
“Night, Grady.”
“Night, Ryan. Thanks for letting me stay.”
He doesn’t say anything else as I look around at the not-so-humble results of his fame.
He made it, that’s for damn sure.
But at what price?
This is insanity.
What the hell was I thinking letting him stay here?
I sip my coffee, sitting at the bar in my kitchen, looking out the window as I go over last night. I told him fucking everything. We’ve been apart for seven years but picked up right where we left off.
Well, minus the kissing.
Fuck me. This is bad.
“Ry, tell me you have coffee.” Grady bounces into my kitchen without a care in the world—or clothes.
Motherfucker.
Is he really standing in my kitchen wearing only a pair of tight black briefs?
What the hell is he trying to do to me?
I don’t look. I can’t look. I point toward the coffee pot with already brewed coffee and look out the window.
“Hell, yeah. You have the good shit.”
I roll my eyes but smile into my coffee mug. Same ole Grady.
He walks over to where I am and sits down, his long lanky legs draped over the stool next to mine. I notice he has tattoos on his muscular thighs. He notices me looking, and I can feel him grinning before I even look up and see it on his ridiculously handsome face. “I went a little ink-crazy.”
I shrug, trying hard not to give a fuck. “They aren’t bad.”
He lifts his right arm, turning to show me his ribcage that has ink scrolled over most of his side. “Nah, most are good, but this one . . .” He points to one that’s in messy writing I can barely make out. “This one was supposed to be badass, but it got fucked up.”
“A professional did that?”
He chuckles. “I think so, but it wasn’t here. I was abroad somewhere. I forgot where.”
I study his face and shake my head. “You were drunk.”
“Totally.”
“What’s it supposed to say?” I take the opportunity to study his side but still can’t make out the words. My eyes drift over to his smooth stomach. It’s defined but not overly so. Flat and toned with a sexy thin trail of dark hair leading south.
I swallow hard, trying to get control of my body as I meet his eyes when he answers my question. “Lyrics. Or they were supposed to be. Really, it’s just fucking jibberish.” I raise my eyebrow, and he chuckles, “Queen. But they fucked it up. Or I told them wrong. I need to get it fixed.”
“Still a Queen fan, huh?”
“Who the fuck isn’t?” He grins with an adorable challenge in his eyes that I back down from. Of course, I love the band.
I’m about to profess my love for Queen when my front door bursts open, and I hear heels clicking on my floor.
Goddamn it. Just what I need right now.
“What the fuck?” Grady looks at Jenny in horror as she struts inside.
She looks at him with disgust and then spits venom my way, “What the fuck is a naked Grady Bell doing in your kitchen?”
“I’m not naked.” He turns to me. “Who the hell is this?”
I don’t get a chance to answer him. “Fine. A mostly naked Grady Bell. Are you trying to give me a coronary?”
“Relax, Jenny.” I stand up and place my now-empty coffee mug in the sink, glad I pulled on sweats and a t-shirt before coming to the kitchen. Me being in my underwear too would really set her off.
She holds up her dainty little hand and then looks a little taken aback. “Wait. Grady Bell is gay?”
“I’m not gay.” Grady doesn’t sound defensive, just setting her straight, but it still does a number on my stupid fucking heart.
“He’s not. He’s a friend.”
Her perfectly manicured eyebrow lifts, studying me. “Fine. Whatever. One crisis at a time.”