Wicked Lies Boys Tell

“Real men play soccer, Copeland,” Dad snarls, his breath stinking of whiskey. “Or football like Penn.” He waves a hand at my best friend who sits quietly nearby. “Swimming is for weak-ass little boys who wish they were girls. Do you wish you were a girl, son?”

My cheeks burn with embarrassment. “No,” I hiss.

“Then don’t fucking act like one.”

Dad stumbles out of the room. Tears threaten and I don’t want Penn to see me cry. Last time he’d seen me cry, I was like five. I run from the living room and into my bedroom. With jerky movements, I yank off my shirt and kick off my shoes. Snapping off the light, I crawl into my bed and bury my face into my pillow. Emotion burns at my throat. I hear my bedroom door close and then Penn joins me on the bed.

“Your dad’s a dick,” he utters, his palm resting on my spine.

His comforting touch only makes me want to cry even more. I swallow and squeeze my eyes shut, praying I won’t start sobbing like the little girl Dad thinks I want to be. When I don’t speak, Penn scoots closer and starts toying with my hair. He’s the only one who knows how to cheer me up. We may like to beat each other on the regular, but we don’t like when anyone else hurts the other. Penn, like a long-lost twin, always senses what I need. Right now, I need his comforting touch.

“I’ll quit football,” he says with a chuckle. “Then we can be girls together. Really watch your dad lose it.”

I laugh into my pillow before turning to face him. In the dark, I can’t see him, but I feel his stare on me. “As long as our dresses are designer, our parents won’t care.”

He snorts and reaches up to mess with my hair again. “Your hair is practically long enough for bows, too,” he teases.

I close my eyes as he pushes my hair from my eyes. Sometimes, when I’m stressing over my dad, he touches my hair. I’ve never told him, but it’s the most relaxing thing in the world. Most guys my age would probably throw a fit over letting their best friend pet them, but it’s just Penn. He’s like the brother I never had. He just knows what I need.

His fingers drift down the side of my neck and I shiver. Rolling onto my back, I try to refrain from asking my best friend for a stupid hug. Sometimes I wish he could just come live with us. Stay in my room and hug me when I’ve had a bad day with my dad. Like a real brother. He pulls away, but I manage to grab his wrist in the dark. I won’t ask for the hug because I’m too embarrassed, so I just take one instead. I tug him until his arm wraps around me. Penn may give me crap about everything, but he doesn’t like it when I hurt and has always been a shoulder to lean on.

He’s stiff at first and I wonder if he thinks I’m being gay or something. I worry that he’ll gross out and push me away. But then he relaxes, his head resting against mine. His leg loops with mine.

With my best friend silently reassuring me that everything is going to be okay, I drift off to sleep.

“Love you, brother,” I mutter sleepily.

He chuckles. “Love you too, sis.”

I grin in the dark until I finally fall asleep.

I dart my eyes to Penn in the mirror and he watches me with the same intense stare as always. Looking back on what was a seemingly innocent memory, I can’t help but wonder if he wanted me way back then. The way he touched me and held on to me was always brotherly I’d thought. Now, I can’t help but question everything. I’d ask his big, broody ass, but not with Leah in the car. Later. Later, I’m going to ask him how long he’s had this thing for me. And then I’m going to help him find someone who can reciprocate.

A pang of jealousy churns in my gut at the idea of Dante or Liam being that guy.

But I sure as hell can’t be.

Penn

My phone buzzes over and over again. I know it’s Dad. He’s probably freaking the hell out right now. But he can wait. I’ll deal with him later. For now, I’m going to give into something I’ve been denied for two years.

Copeland.

Having him suddenly in my life is shocking, but not an opportunity I’m going to pass up. It’s all I wanted for so long. It sucks having to look at his perfect lips and know I’ll never be able to kiss them, but it’s better when those lips speak to me rather than sneer from afar. We can fix this. I can have my best friend back. I just need to be careful.