Immoral by Nicole Dykes

This is just fucking great.Exactly what I wanted to deal with tonight.

An angry, confused Grady Bell in my house, demanding answers.

“You can go now,” I say to him, hoping for this moment to be over. I can’t take him being disgusted or disappointed or whatever the fuck.

I just can’t.

I couldn’t seven years ago, and I can’t today.

“Hold on a second.” He holds up his hand, and his face doesn’t really say grossed-out, more stunned. “You’re gay?”

“Yes.” I’m not going to lie. Not to him. Not to the people who are actually in my life. At least not if they ask me outright.

“But . . .” He looks like he’s going to be sick now.

That’s just great.“I’m not ashamed of it. You can let yourself out.”

I try to walk away again, but the asshole reaches out and grips my arm.

Again.

My eyes slice to where he’s gripping my bare flesh but then roam to his face. He looks pale. “I’ve seen you with girls.”

I roll my eyes and push his hand away. “Who?”

“Maggie. I saw you two at that party our junior year.”

I cringe, thinking about that night. How drunk I was and trying to suppress the feelings that were still raging from seeing Grady in the locker room shower earlier that day. “She was a good kisser but a little soft for me.”

“So wait . . .” He’s processing, and I’m growing tired of it. But I also let him ask, “If you’re gay, why the hell did you freak out about kissing a guy?”

I scoff at that, the sound leaving my lips before I could reel it in. “Not a guy. You. My best friend.”

“That’s fucking worse, asshole. You could have told me.” Now he’s angry. Seriously? “You know I’m not some homophobic asshole. I would have been fine with it.”

“Fine?” I laugh coldly, “Gee thanks, Grady.”

“You know what I mean. I wouldn’t have been a dick. But you just left.”

Okay, now he looks hurt. Fuck, I hate that pout. “I was kind of dealing with some shit. You were the first guy I’d kissed. Up until then, I wasn’t even totally sure.”

His right eyebrow lifts with no caution as a sly grin slowly forms on his lips. “So, I turned you?”

“Holy Christ, you’re an idiot.” But damn if it doesn’t make me laugh. “No. I just wasn’t totally sure. When I kissed you, it felt right. Better than with any girl I’d ever tried to kiss.”

“Holy shit.” He runs a hand over his chin, and I notice his hand has tattoos on it. Tattoos I want to spend time exploring which only proves to me how fast I need to get him out of here.

“Right. So, you can go. Mystery solved.”

I start to walk off, but instead of grabbing my arm, the fucker actually grabs both my wrists and slams my body against the wall, pinning me there. “Stop walking away from me.”

Holy. Shit.I haven’t been this close to him in so goddamn long, but my body remembers, wanting to react. I’m grateful for the space his long, lanky arms allow between our bodies. “Let me go.”

“Not until you tell me why the fuck you didn’t tell me you were gay.”

I’m bigger than him. I still have a few inches on him and at least thirty pounds, but I don’t push him away. Always the glutton for punishment. “I couldn’t take that sick, disgusted look on your face. It’s going to be burned into my brain, so thanks for that.”

His brows pinch together in confusion as he continues to plaster my wrists to the wall. “Disgusted? I’m not fucking disgusted. I’m pissed off that you wasted seven years due to a stupid fucking reason. I’m pissed you didn’t just tell me you were gay or thought you might be. I don’t care who you fuck. I care about you, asshole.”

I swallow hard, begging my body not to react to his close proximity, but I can’t stop the sharp, jolting pants that are heaving from my chest. Shame heats my cheeks because I know this isn’t the full story I’m telling him. It’s all so damn humiliating, and he’s so relaxed about the whole thing.

I know that Grady isn’t an asshole, not like that. I knew then he wouldn’t care that I was gay. But the rest of it? Pining after his straight ass? Yeah. No.

But I can’t tell him that. “I was dealing with a lot of shit, okay? Plus, we were both leaving. I just did it early.”

“We weren’t planning on not seeing each other. Jesus, man. You wouldn’t answer my calls or anything.”

I hate the hurt I can see in his eyes now as he drops his hold on my wrists and steps away. “I’m sorry. I know it was shitty.”

“It was.” His eyes lock on mine. “I’m not my father.”

I wince, knowing what a sore subject his prick of a father is. “I know.” His father has spent years preaching about love and yet condoning hatred toward anything that he sees as a sin, especially homosexuality.

Then Grady surprises me yet again. “I’m assuming you have a break now that you’re a champion?”

“Huh?” I try to get control of my breathing, hating that my physical attraction to him hasn’t missed a beat. If anything, it’s grown. “Yeah. I have a parade and a couple of appearances, but they’re all local. Why?”

He shrugs his shoulders with a cocky grin that’s so damn familiar to me. “I have three weeks off too. I think you should invite me to stay.”

“What?” I nearly choke out through my shock. “Stay where?”

He makes a show of looking around the grand foyer and then spreads his arms out wide. “Here. It’s not like you don’t have plenty of room.”

“You’re insane. We may as well be strangers.”

He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to him, his forehead resting against mine in a gesture that makes me ache from missing it and him so damn much. “We’ll never be strangers. I don’t care if you push me away for fifty years. I’ll always be Bell, and you’ll always be Bailey.”

“This is a bad idea,” I barely whisper.

“I missed you. I want to catch up, and you have a bigass mansion.”

“My agent will hate it.”

He scoffs at that, stepping back and releasing me. “Are you kidding? Childhood best friends reuniting at the World Series? That’s an agent and publicist’s wet dream. The media will eat that shit up.”

“I try to avoid the media.”

“So I’ve noticed.” He smiles, flashing the grin that has probably dropped many, many panties over the years. “Come on, Ry.”

Fuck.

“Fine.”

“I’m going to go get my bags.”

I follow after him as he strides toward the front door. “Wait. You planned this? To come and stay with me after seven years of nothing?”

“No.” He grins over his shoulder. “But I had to get out of that hotel they had me in last night and hadn’t decided where to stay tonight yet.”

I roll my eyes because that’s just so fucking Grady.

But I know I’m right, and this is a bad, bad idea.