Branson
I’m notsure how long we stay here like this, with my arms wrapped tightly around him as he cries on my shoulder. All I know is that I can’t let him go.
I can’t leave him feeling like this. I have no idea what caused this, but I need to fix it and be there for him. Continuing to rub his back, hoping I’m helping, even if it’s just a little.
His scent envelopes me.
Woodsy.
Manly.
So absolutely him.
I try not to focus on how intoxicating it is to have him in my arms like this. He’s breaking down and doesn’t need my ridiculous thoughts.
After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks. Although, his face is still buried in my shoulder, so I have to really focus to understand him.
“I’m sorry, Branson.” He sounds so defeated, and it cracks my heart wide open.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Luca,” I say as gently as I can. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” I’m nervous about asking because I don’t want him to break down again, or worse, shut down and not tell me what’s going on.
We have been in each other’s lives for years now, and I have never, ever seen him break down like this. I can’t even remember a time when I saw him cry.
“I don’t know how to explain it to you without sounding like a pathetic schoolgirl,” he grumbles into my shoulder.
“Try me.”
“Courtney and I started fighting right when I got here tonight. We went upstairs to talk about whatever it was that upset her.”
I feel nauseous. If this is going where I think it’s going, I don’t think I want to hear.
Luca having sex with someone else makes me feel unreasonably jealous.
I don’t even know why. I have no right to him at all; he’s my stepbrother. And she is his girlfriend. Sex is probably a regular occurrence with them, as it usually is in relationships.
He pulls me out of my bizarre thoughts when he starts talking again.
“We aren’t seeing eye-to-eye, and it makes everything tense. Sometimes I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle,” he admits softly.
“Do you have panic attacks often?”
He doesn’t answer right away. I begin to think he isn’t going to respond at all, but then I hear his words so faintly, I might have missed them had I not been paying attention. “I haven’t had them for years. I used to get them a lot when I was a kid, before you and Sarah moved in. After my mom died, I went to therapy for a while, and it helped for a little, but they still happened often.”
He finally breaks the hug and runs his hands over his face before continuing. “And then after—” He cuts himself off abruptly, and I don’t know what he was about to say but wish he would tell me. “Anyway, the panic attacks got progressively worse, and then came the nightmares.”
“How did you get rid of them?”
“I didn’t do anything, really. Figured I just outgrew them. The nightmares stopped a few years after you guys moved in, and I haven’t had a panic attack since I was about nine.”
He takes a moment to breathe and then finally turns to face me. The look on his face makes me want to haul him back in for a hug and never let him go.
His eyes are so sad and heavy, and his cheeks are still wet from his tears. His full bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, presumably to keep it from quivering.
He looks completely vulnerable and absolutely fucking beautiful.
My eyes drift up to meet his again, only to see him already staring at me. Suddenly, I’m burning up and hyperaware of our proximity. We never moved fully apart after our embrace, and he’s so close to me that I can feel his warm, shaky breath fan my face, doing absolutely nothing to cool me down.
My mouth suddenly feels dry, and I swipe my tongue across my bottom lip to try and help the feeling. His sad gaze drops from my eyes to my mouth for a second too long.
No.
This cannot happen.
Knowing exactly what he’s going to do before he even does it, I freeze.
With his gaze still on my mouth, he leans forward, so close that his breath caresses my face, and I can practically taste him. He hesitates only a fraction of a second before placing a delicate kiss on my lips.
His lips are full, soft, yet firm.
Feeling like I’m watching this from the outside, everything is happening in slow motion. I don’t know what to do.
My body and my heart want nothing more than to lean into him, deepen the kiss, but my mind knows this is wrong.
He’s hurt.
He’s vulnerable.
He’s family.
He’s fucking straight.
If I have learned anything in the years since coming out, it’s that nothing good ever comes from letting yourself feel anything for a straight man.
Nothing.
As much as it physically pains me to do so, as much as I will probably regret this for the rest of my life, I place my hand firmly on his chest, breaking the kiss, and putting some distance between us. “Luca—”
Without meeting my eyes, he mutters, “I’m sorry. Don’t know what that was about. I think I’m just upset and tired… had a few too many drinks.”
“I’m so sorry,” he says again, his cheeks now a prominent shade of pink. “Can we… forget… that?”
“No worries, man. It happens to the best of us. Consider it forgotten,” I try to say in my most uplifting voice. On the inside, I’m freaking the fuck out.
Remembering where we are, I hear footsteps. Knox is approaching us as I look behind me. I don’t think he saw anything—it’s too dark, and he’s still too far away.
“Fuck. There you guys are. I’ve been looking for you. What the hell are you doing all the way out here?”
“Sorry, bro. I needed some air. I drank a lot too fast,” I lie easily. “Luca offered to come with me”
“Oh, uhm, okay. I want to head home. I’m over this party. Are you ready to go?” He looks from me to Luca, trying to assess the situation, but comes up short.
“Yup. Let’s go. Where’s Weston?”
“He disappeared with Cash like an hour ago. I’m guessing he’s planning to crash here.”
The three of us begin our walk home, but I don’t notice any of it. My head is all over the place. Looking over to Luca to see if I can tell where his head’s at, his face is completely blank—as if it never happened.
He kissed me.
HE. KISSED. ME.
It takes all my willpower to not run my fingers over my lips right now. The ghost of his kiss is still haunting me, and I want nothing more than to taste him again.
But we can’t. It can’t happen.
We get home, and I get into bed, but sleep evades me.
I can do nothing but stare into the dark and feel.
* * *