Well, excuse me. According to him, I was the bitch.
As in another man’s bitch.
He never said it when other people were around. He only taunted me with words my mother would have slapped the eyebrows off my face for using when I was the only one within earshot. When other brothers were around, he acted like nothing happened, like he never tried to overthrow me and like I never split his face open with my fist.
I itched to do it again. Except this time, I wouldn’t stop with just one hit. I’d freaking pound him until I felt better.
I couldn’t.
All that would do is give him ammunition to use against me. Beating his ass might actually give him something to go whine to the dean about. As much as I hated the guy, I would rather eat fresh shit (which was way worse than day-old shit) than give him the pleasure.
His words and taunts bothered me. Which, in turn, bothered me more. Usually I didn’t give two shits what anyone said to me. I was a confident guy. I was strong and silent. I was secure enough in myself that people’s words never hurt.
Being taunted about being gay shouldn’t bother me.
But it did.
Fuck, it felt like a scorching hot poker being driven right into my spine.
It stung because I wasn’t secure in this. I denied the way I felt for so long. I pushed the feelings down inside me because they scared me so much. Because I thought they were wrong.
I couldn’t do it anymore.
I couldn’t keep lying to myself. It was tearing me up inside.
But just because I was admitting to myself that yeah, I was probably gay, didn’t mean I was ready to tell anyone. I didn’t want to talk about it. And I certainly didn’t want to be fucking taunted.
I knew people in the house were talking. Con’s plan to dethrone me might not have worked, but apparently, his accusation that I was gay wasn’t as hard to convince people of.
Some people treated me exactly as they always had. I felt a new appreciation for those people. Others looked at me with pity in their eyes, like I had some kind of horrible disease that couldn’t be cured.
That pissed me off.
Maybe I was gay. So what? I was still the same guy I’d been my entire life. I was still a football player. I was still Omega president. I still loved cars and hated romance movies.
That’s where the confusion came in. I was still the same. Irrevocably. Did that mean I really wasn’t gay? I’d dated women all my life.
Because that’s what you were supposed to do.
I liked sex with women.
Not as much as you should.
These feelings had just become harder to deny.
Because of Drew.
I pulled my Mustang into the lot of the frat house. Classes were over for the week, and I planned to lie low this weekend. I didn’t get out right away, though, even after I turned off the engine. I stared through the windshield across the wide yard around the stone house.
I was pretty sure I was in love with Drew.
Like in love with him.
I tried not to be. It was a losing battle.
When he showed up here earlier in the week with his new “mentor,” everything I felt about him became undeniable.
He was a she.
Gamble didn’t just send any driver. He sent a woman. She was a badass driver.
She was also incredibly beautiful.
The second she stepped out of the passenger side of the Fastback and smiled up at Drew, I was pummeled. It made me crazy to see them together.
Joey was basically a female version of Drew. His perfect compliment. She had long, dark, wild hair, sparkly eyes, and a body that wouldn’t quit.
I wasn’t attracted to her. I was too busy hating her.
Joey was everything Drew wanted in a girl, and I wasn’t.
Hell, I wasn’t even the right gender.
I could tell by the way he was with her, Drew was interested. It thrashed my insides.
I retreated like a fucking coward to lick my wounds, to sink even further into the dark shadows of isolation. I avoided Drew as much as I could. I avoided Romeo and Braeden, Ivy and Rimmel. I even avoided little Nova.
It hurt. It hurt to separate myself from the people I’d made my family.
But I couldn’t be around them and not see Drew. They’d know something was wrong.
And I wasn’t ready to tell anyone.
Fuck, I was barely able to admit it to myself.
I was going to lose my family over this. And my best friend. I’d graduate college and move on.
They’d all be gone. I’d be alone.
I dropped my head back against the seat and stared up at the grey fabric on the ceiling. I didn’t know what to do.
Maybe it isn’t only Drew, a voice whispered in the back of my head.
I sat up, intrigued by the thought. Maybe I would be attracted to other guys, too, like other gay men. Men who understood what I was feeling. Men who’d been where I was.
The truth was I wasn’t fighting being gay. I was fighting being in love with my best friend.