“Boo!”
Speak of the devil. I turned at Lane’s voice coming from my bedroom doorway. My heart sprinted. God, I was so fucking crazy about this guy because the only time I didn’t feel emotionally alone was when I was with him.
In a dry monotone, I said, “Oh no. I’m so scared. Whatever will I do?”
“Asshole,” he teased, pushing his hair back, only for it to flop forward again. He still wore it longer than I ever did, this pile of curls and waves, a shade darker than a honey blond, dancing around his head. “This is our last summer at home before college. Can you believe it?”
Lane was heading to New York for art school. I was going to California, where my uncle and grandma lived.
It was something I’d done on purpose—tried to get as far away from him as I could because I’d already decided I was going to force myself to get over this ridiculous crush I had on my stepbrother.
I was leaving for school, and I planned to have sex with all the boys, safely and with their consent, of course, until I forgot about my little…issue. I couldn’t wait to have sex with a guy. Coming out when I was sixteen had really put a damper on my experience and sexual liberation. I’d been honest about who I was to feel more free, but I’d put myself into a really lonely box in some ways because there had been no other out boys at our school.
Lane nudged me when I didn’t respond. “I’m gonna miss you. It’s crazy because logically, I know it’s only been four years, but it’s like…” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s like I don’t remember what my life was like without you.”
I didn’t know how he did that. The way he shared how he felt so easily. I did when he caught me in the right mood or if I’d been drinking, but Lane could do it at any time.
“Probably a whole lot more boring,” I told him.
“I don’t even hang out with you that much. You haven’t made my life more fun.”
“Yeah, right. Stop lying.” God, I would miss this. Miss talking to him and spending time with him. Miss him drawing or painting, and me just watching. It was ridiculous and a little gross the way I would do anything for him. Like, who the fuck watches someone paint? And he didn’t even know why and never could.
My dad and Helena would likely think I was disgusting.
The rest of our family probably would too.
“You going out with your friends tonight?” Lane asked.
“Yeah. Gotta chill with them while I can.” I stood up and walked toward the window, remembered four years ago when I stood in this same spot, sad that Dad had gotten married, and watched Lane sit alone in the grass in the corner of our backyard.
“You’ve been weird lately,” Lane said.
“You’ve been weird always,” I countered. I didn’t have to look behind me to know he was shaking his head.
“Wanna hear something crazy?” Lane asked. Something crazy to him was usually like…a really unique idea for a painting.
“Sure.” I shrugged.
“Amanda wants to have sex with me.” I whipped around to face him, and my shock must have shown on my face because Lane started laughing. “What? The thought of me having sex is that surprising?”
Amanda was his closest friend. And while Lane had grown into himself some over the years, he’d still never had a girlfriend, nor kissed anyone as far as I knew. He never really talked about sex the way other guys I knew did, and he was way more interested in his art and going off to college than hooking up or finding a girlfriend.
“Why?” I asked, not sure what else to say.
“Geez, maybe she thinks I’m hot. Maybe she likes me. I know it’s a shocker, but—”
“It’s not a shocker.” I like you in the most fucked-up way. I’m in love with you. “It’s just that you guys are friends. I never knew there was anything more to it than that.”
“There’s not. Neither of us wants to leave for college a virgin, so she asked about doing it with me, and…well, it’s kind of perfect, I guess. I can see what all the fuss is about and maybe figure out what I’m doing a little bit before I do it with someone I really like that way.”
My dick betrayed me by starting to chub up, but that was nothing compared to the ache in my chest. I wanted to tell him not to. That there was nothing wrong with being a virgin, but how would that sound coming from me? I wanted to tell him to have sex with me, but not only was I a man, which he wasn’t interested in, but his brother. So I shoved my feelings aside and said, “Only do it if you’re sure.”
“Were you sure the first time?” he asked, knowing the answer to that.
“You’re not me. You’re…” Better? Let his heart lead him? Both were good answers.
“Whatever. I can have sex too, ya know? I get it, I might not be Mr. Fucking Perfect, but is it so weird that someone might want to fuck me?”
My hands fisted. “What are you even talking about? Why are we fighting about this? I’m not Mr. Perfect, and I don’t care who you screw.”
“Fine, then I’m going to.” He shoved to his feet.
“Fine, then. Have fun.” I crossed my arms.
He turned, stomped like a twelve-year-old toward the door, then stopped. “I don’t know why I’m mad at you.”
“I don’t know why you are either,” I snapped. Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe I could cut the cord earlier than planned. The sooner I stopped wishing we could…wishing there could ever be something between us, the better. “You should do it. You’re right. It’ll make you feel less self-conscious later. You and Amanda care about each other and feel comfortable with each other. If you both want this, you should do it.” Please don’t do it. Please don’t.
“You really think so?”
No. “Sure. If you want. I, for one, plan on having all the sex I can in college, so if you’re anything like me, at least you’ll know your way around a woman.”
“I’m sure I can figure out my way around a woman,” he said, his cheeks pink. And then, “I’m going to tell her yes.”
“Good for you. It’s about time you lose your V card.”
“You haven’t, not for real. Not with a guy.” I shrugged, and he continued, “You wanna go out tonight?”
“Nope. I have plans, remember?” Nausea burned through my gut.
“Okay…maybe I’ll call Amanda, then.”
“Have fun,” I repeated, forcing a smile.
I went out with my friends, and he called her. They had sex that night, and he told me all about it the next day, while I tried hard not to throw up or cry.
They kept hooking up after that. Now that Lane had done it, it had opened up a whole new world for him, and he really, really liked it.
I left for California early.
When Lane went to New York, there were more girls.
I did my best to pull away, to keep our distance, because no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many men I fucked or how many years went by, I never stopped loving him. I didn’t think I ever could.
CHAPTER ONE
Lane
“Babe, are you ever going to come to bed?” my boyfriend, Jayden, asked from the doorway to my in-home studio. This was the second time he’d been in tonight. On the one hand, I understood where he was coming from. It was after two in the morning. But he also knew how I worked. I often got up in the middle of the night to paint. When I got lost in a piece, I couldn’t just stop for a hundred different reasons, one being my muse—I would drive myself crazy, fingers twitching and mind spinning with the need to create. Even if I was in bed, I wouldn’t get any sleep anyway. Another was that I had to find the right place to stop painting. It wasn’t simply a matter of setting the paintbrush down.