Emerett Has Never Been in Love (Love Austen 1)

Wood squealed—the sound of the window being shut—and Lake cringed at Knight’s heavy footsteps moving toward the bed. He couldn’t handle Knight’s criticism tonight, even if he had asked Knight to hold back less.

“Here to tell me I told you so?” Sheets muffled his words, and the mattress dipped at his side. Knight sat back against the headboard, legs stretched along Lake’s side, close to his arm.

“No.” Fingers fluttered over Lake’s hair. Soft, gentle touches that felt too forgiving. Nothing he deserved. But Lake couldn’t bring himself to tell Knight to stop.

He turned his head toward—the curve of Knight’s ass, squashing his pillow. He rolled onto his side. A peach moonlight glow stretched from the bathroom into his darker room.

Knight looked down at him fondly, like he genuinely was on Lake’s side and always would be—even if they disagreed—and Lake’s emotions seeped to the surface.

“How could I have been so wrong? He wasn’t interested in Harry at all.” Lake had really, truly thought . . . “I was so bent on them getting together, I searched for it. Saw romance where there was none.” He sighed, needing Knight to see he had genuinely misunderstood. “Philip had been so excited about Harry’s pictures. And the monologue—I should have known it would end badly.”

Knight had removed his fingers and they rested above Lake’s head, brushing the ends of his hair. Lake wanted more affectionate petting, but he totally didn’t deserve it.

Knight read him, and curled his fingers through Lake’s hair to his scalp. “You meant well.”

Lake held back from sighing at how good it felt. “Thinking about Philip is making me flinch, Knight. I thought he was a nice guy.”

“He was nice to you. Exceptionally nice.”

“God, you were right all along yet I refused to believe you. Even had the delightful urge to prove you wrong.”

“Delightful urge?”

“You know, like a constant need for you to see me doing something right. Or, at least, something not wrong.”

Knight breathed out heavily, long and slow, and his fingers rested against Lake’s hairline, one finger sliding over his temple.

“I was wrong, though. Very wrong. Philip wasn’t even that nice. How dare he talk about Harry like that? And wanting me only because I’m a nine . . .”

Guilt and disappointment flooded him, and his throat tightened. “Would you, like, scooch down so I can see your face better?”

Knight shuffled lengthwise next to Lake. He tucked the pillow under his head so nothing buffered their view. Knight’s expression seemed cautious and pensive, and Lake yearned to read Knight as well as Knight read him. Closeness shivered through him, and Lake snuggled an inch nearer to the promise of all that warmth and comfort. He inhaled the fresh scent of him and let it out, miserably. “Why can’t I be more like you? Ceaselessly sensible and smart.”

A soft laugh puttered against Lake’s jaw. “I’m not always sensible.”

It took all of Lake’s control not to stare at Knight’s lips. “You’re ninety percent sense, and that’s eight-five percent more than me.”

“Ninety is far too generous. I had a kid in my senior year of high school, remember?”

Lake studied Knight’s lips. “It’s hard to imagine you so horny you’d forget a condom.”

“It broke.”

Lake groaned. “That doesn’t make you less sensible, just less lucky.”

“I should have checked the use-by date.”

Of course Knight would boil it down to that. “Aren’t we lucky we have PrEP now?”

“Yes, well. I still carry a condom. I won’t stop using one unless I’m in a long-term, trusting relationship.”

“Fair. Do you ever still find women attractive?”

“We seem to have veered off topic.”

Lake threw a hand over his face, groaning. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll go back to dwelling on my failures.”

Gently, Knight plucked Lake’s hand off his face and pinned his fingers to the mattress. Softly, though. He could absolutely pull free, if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to.

“No, I—no. Beth was the first person I told that I was into men, and somehow we agreed that we should at least try, to make sure. We were young. And superiorly stupid.”

“Not tonight, because I have to face my own shittiness, but I’d like to hear more stories of you being young and superiorly stupid.”

Knight laughed softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Although, now I’m thinking about things, you weren’t exactly perfect tonight.”

“I’d question whether I’m perfect any night, but continue.”

“The zinfandel?”

“Ah.”

“I mean, thank fuck. But also, bit of a dick move to swap the gifts without telling me.”

Knight shifted, knee bumping Lake’s leg. “You’re right. I should never have gone over your head like that.”

“So why did you?”

“I suppose, I had this delightful urge to see relief wash over your face.”

Lake grumbled. “What if I hadn’t been relieved?”

“I took my chances.”

“You must think you know me very well, to take that risk.”

“I like to think I know you very well.” Knight squeezed their fingers. “But that doesn’t excuse not discussing it with you.”