“Here.” He held out the T-shirt. “Can you get that on without falling over?”
Liam stuck out his tongue but managed, eventually, to get the shirt on.
“Pants next.”
Liam crossed his arms over his chest. “You first.”
Whatever it took. Liam watched him step out of his jeans, drape them over a chair, and quickly put on his shorts. “Your turn.”
Ready to steady Liam if needed, Coury let him slide the denim down before easing him back onto the bed. Liam tried to kick off his jeans, but they got tangled and he lost his balance. He flopped back and didn’t move.
With a deep sigh, Coury grabbed the cuffs and yanked them and the socks off in one fluid motion. Liam wore olive-green boxer briefs that hugged his muscular legs and did little to hide his excited state. Turning quickly, Coury slung the pants on the chair.
“Put the shorts on and get in bed.”
“Only if you join me.”
“Nope, I’m sleeping in Luke’s bed.”
“Why? Don’t you like me?”
“Of course I like you. You’re totally freaking awesome.”
Liam struggled into the shorts and looked away. “Then come sleep with me.”
“Liam,” Coury said softly. “You’re too drunk. Ask me when you’re sober and you know what you’re saying.”
Flopping back onto the mattress, Liam whispered, “I’ve liked you since I was twelve.”
Coury froze. Since he was twelve?
Liam’s eyes closed.
Coury waited for more, for an explanation, but the quiet stretching between them quickly shifted in quality. Liam’s mouth parted and his breath grew heavy and regular.
Coury gently eased the blanket back until he was able to cover Liam. Sleep softened the wary expression Liam wore far too often.
Twelve?
The beer might have loosened Liam’s tongue, but he’d meant what he said. He’d meant that kiss, too.
Flicking off the lights, Coury slipped into Luke’s bed and stared at Liam’s prone outline.
Coury’s mind replayed all their teenage moments together, looking for clues, and this time seeing them. He felt stupid he hadn’t noticed it earlier . . . that he’d not paid the right attention.
It made him smile in the dark. Made his belly flap with butterflies. Made it impossible to sleep.
It wasn’t all a wonderful realization.
There was the not-so-insignificant fact he was Beckett’s little brother. There was something else, too, that nagged at his sleepy brain, but it eluded his grasp.
He rolled onto his side and stared at the wall. At least they could finally get past the awkwardness of wondering what the other was thinking.
He jammed his pillow over his head.
He’d see what Liam said in the morning. He might be drunk, but he wasn’t so drunk he wouldn’t remember. In Coury’s experience, “I can’t remember what I did,” was a line people used to avoid owning something they wished they hadn’t done.
If Liam used that line, Coury would know he regretted telling him. Coury would respect that. Liam had been through enough this year. He didn’t need Coury putting any pressure on him.
But, damn, that kiss . . . It was the kind you gave to someone you really wanted.
The kind Coury really wanted to get from Liam.
Chapter Eleven
Liam
Liam woke with a mild headache and a mouth that tasted like something died in there, which probably wasn’t far from the truth. Cheap frat beer and not brushing his teeth before bed? The worst.
Why had he thought it was a good idea to drink? He cracked open his eyes. It took him a moment to remember he was in Coury’s room, sleeping in Coury’s bed. Lazily, he rolled his head to his left and froze. Coury was lying on his side, smiling and staring at him.
“Good morning.” His smile disappeared, and he propped up on one arm. “How do you feel?”
Like a total fool. “Like I know better.”
“I’m sorry. Do you need anything?”
He needed to take back the night before. He’d gotten silly and—oh God, he’d kissed Coury. “No. I’m okay.”
“You sure? You were pretty wasted last night.” Coury flung his sheets back, climbed out of bed, and slung himself on the end of Liam’s mattress. The blankets bent his toes over, pressing against the side of Coury’s ass, only thin material between them.
Coury scrubbed his jaw and looked at Liam, and Liam’s heart jackrabbited. Shit! He was going to get on Liam for the kiss. “Sorry,” he blurted. “How bad was I? Don’t remember most of it.”
Coury’s hand froze over his jaw and the curious light in his eyes faded. He stared at Liam for a few seconds, then smiled unevenly. “You were fine. You were having fun.”
“I know how I am when I’m drunk. Probably made a fool of myself.”
There was no “probably.” He’d told Coury he’d had a crush on him since he was twelve. If he could disappear or teleport himself home, he would.
“Nope, you were fine. Nothing you should regret.”
Had the kiss and confession been a dream? “Really?”