Or maybe Ollie was freaking about the possibility of Nikki and Jamie and Damien and Ryan finding out. But so what? They wouldn’t care. They loved him. Except maybe for Damien. And he couldn’t imagine it impacting his job, but if it did, there were others. His parents might be surprised, but they loved him, too. All they wanted was for him to be happy.
And with every day that went by, Ollie was more and more convinced that at the core of it, his happiness and Trevor were inextricably intertwined.
That, of course, was why he’d almost protested when Trevor said that he ought to go home. But what would have been the point? He’d already told Trevor nothing was happening. So, what? Trevor would have crashed there, and Ollie would have spent the night wishing that his friend would slide over from his side of the bed so that Ollie could finally have a taste of what he’d been fantasizing about for months. Because despite all his justifying, Ollie wasn’t ready to make the first move.
He should have, though. He should have leaned in with that whole pizza thing. Instead, he’d freaked.
Seriously, he was a fucking coward.
Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe Trevor wasn’t what he wanted. Maybe this was just Ollie’s psyche finally putting his relationship with Courtney to rest. Because even though it had been years since they totally pulled the plug, he hadn’t dated anyone seriously since Courtney had told him she was done being a ping-pong ball in the off-again/on-again relationship Ollie had been steering.
Fair enough.
God knew, Ollie had been a shit. He liked Courtney. Hell, he loved her. But every time they got close to the wedding, he’d gotten cold feet. Because maybe he didn’t love her enough. Maybe he didn’t love her like that.
He couldn’t blame her for finally tossing her hands up. She’d put up with him for longer than he deserved, and the way he’d bounced her around was at the very top of his list of lifelong regrets.
That, and not asking Trevor to stay.
Because, yeah, he wanted Trevor. And trying to convince himself otherwise was ridiculously, fucking stupid.
Shit.
The realization slammed through his head with such force that there was no denying it. Despite the talk on the balcony, once they’d settled down for the movie, that’s what he’d expected. Maybe not sex, but something.
And, come on, let’s be honest, he’d expected sex. Especially once he’d seen the way Trevor looked at him after the movie. Like Ollie was the secret surprise in the cereal box.
Still, he could hardly blame Trevor for going home, especially after how Ollie had freaked out about the damn pizza.
Ollie was an idiot. Not only that, but he was an unfair one, too. He owed Trevor the truth. Not the bullshit we can be friends even though you’re attracted to me truth, but the real truth. The truth that Ollie was attracted right back. And he was just too confused or scared or unsure to do anything about it.
He’d spent his whole life thinking he was going to find a woman. Get married. Follow his parents’ path. Then he met Trevor and everything shifted. How did he deal with that?
For that matter, could he trust that? What if the attraction was some sort of emotional and sexual rebound from the fiasco that was Courtney? He didn’t want to hurt Trevor like he’d hurt her.
And now you’re really being arrogant, McKee. He’s attracted to you, sure. But that doesn’t mean wedding bells. You’ve slept with friends before. Look at Jamie. You’re both fine. You even joke about it. Pursuing whatever this is with Trevor doesn’t mean your whole life is going to flip. It doesn’t mean a massive identity crisis. It just means you’re hot for the guy. And, yeah, unexpected, but real. So why not pursue it? You can still be friends. You know you can.
Maybe.
Or maybe he was justifying.
He was definitely thinking about it too much. Because right then he needed to go to sleep, but his head just kept spinning and he was so damn tired of these whirling thoughts filling his brain.
Apparently, identity crises were a pain in the butt.
With a sigh, he forced himself to just be still. To let sleep come to him. To think soothing thoughts. Like the fact that no matter what, he’d see Trevor tomorrow because Ollie had insisted he take an Uber home, which meant that Ollie had the keys to Trevor’s BMW. He’d take it over in the morning, and in the light of day, all this angst would seem stupid and pointless.
Or, at least, he hoped it would.
Chapter Four
Ollie was up at the crack of dawn, the thought of seeing Trevor again having not only prodded him awake, but also made him hurry though his morning routine.
Then he realized it was only eight on a Sunday morning, and probably a little too early to be dropping by. Which was why he spent the morning catching up on work emails and attaching cabinet doors in the kitchen.
He managed to occupy himself that way until ten, then showered, grabbed the keys he’d confiscated from Trevor, and headed to the front door, intending to put Trevor’s BMW through its paces as he hauled ass toward Venice.
The moment he opened the door, he saw Cassidy Cunningham on the porch, her hand raised to ring the bell. They both jumped in surprise.
“Sorry. Didn’t expect you to be right there,” Cassidy said. Her hair was blue today with a few streaks of pink. It fell in waves just below her shoulders, and blended with the wildly colorful tattoo of an exotic bird that dominated her upper arm. “Do you have a sec or are you heading out?”
“Both,” he said, holding the door open and gesturing for her to come in. “I was going out, but I’m not in a hurry. What’s up?”
“I come bearing gifts,” she said, stepping over the threshold as she passed him a small, blue gift bag, tied with red twine. “I just opened a third franchise, this one in Long Beach, and the first two are raking in a nice little profit. Plus, I wanted to see how your place is coming along.”
A tattoo artist, Cass had started her career with one successful parlor in Venice Beach, not far from where Trevor shared a condo with Leah. A few years ago, when Ollie was still practicing law, he’d helped her franchise the business. “You didn’t have to do this,” he said, holding up the bag.
“I know. But I wanted to. It’s just a token,” she added as he tugged off the ribbon and peered inside.
“A token? Cass, this is awesome.” He pulled out the small, blue-green bowl with free-form sides that gave the impression of the sea in motion.
“I have a friend who does blown glass work. It’s a thank you and a housewarming gift.”
“I have the perfect place.” He led her to the fireplace and put it at the center of the mantle. “It even matches the wall. Not yet,” he added, pointing to the slash of blue. “But when I finish painting.”
“It’s coming along, though,” she said. “The place is huge.”
“It’s not as big as it looks from the outside. The illusion of building on a hill with multiple stories. But it’s got three bedrooms and an office, so a decent size.”
“Just you living here?”
For one awkward moment, a vision of Trevor hanging out in the living area reading a magazine popped into his head. He felt his cheeks heat and hoped that Cass didn’t notice. “Yeah. Just me.”
“I miss working with you,” she said as he started to lead her on the tour. “But Jeff is great. Do you still keep in touch?”