Lies On The Lips

Chapter Nine

Brett

What we just did was the most exhilarating thing I've ever done, when all he's managed to do is shovel hate my way for the past two years, vengeful cruel hate and now this. That stupid shit at that party brought us together again, He's even shaken off Ashley. Everything is back to how it was. So it’s almost like old times. But no, it's not.

That happened.

My secret is officially out to him and Leah, even Dante.

My heart is pounding rapidly in my chest because I don't know what to expect from Cope anymore. He knows I want him, and he hasn't tried to kick my ass over it.

My mind wanders Dante, I was truthful with Cope about it. That I’d maybe like to see him again. I can't have what I really want, so making out with Dante was a good release.

I'm gay.

Not bi. Just gay.

Problem is, I'm still in love. And I can be gay all day, but still doesn't erase the fact Cope owns my heart. Hell, he probably always will. If I could figure out a way for him to let go of it, I would.

I'd love to be free of him and try something with Dante or another guy. But even as I kissed Dante, I'd felt Cope's eyes on me. They'd burned into me and I loved the way his stare felt.

Possessive.

Letting go of those hopeful thoughts, I exit the guest bathroom and find him already lying in bed, but he’s changed the channel to Black Hawk Down. We’ve seen the movie a thousand times together. I never watched it once without him, even during those two years alone. "Where am I staying?" I ask, careful to not be presumptuous.

"Don’t be an idiot," he grunts. "Same as always." I closed the door behind me and flicked off the lights.

I hung my head and walked around the bed and lay next to him. He doesn't turn to look at me, or speak either. It's hard to remain calm knowing he wants me to stay. His stare is on the television, but mine greedily drinks him up. He's sprawled on the bed in a pair of baseball shorts, his chest still glistening from this recent shower. My mouth waters for a taste, a taste I will never have. "I don't think you should see Dante," that's the first thing he said as I settled in.

I turn my head to find him glaring at me. "Why not?"

"Because he's a dick."

"Got someone better in mind?" I challenge him.

His jaw clenches and he looks back at the television. "I don’t know. Anyone. Fucking Tinder for all I care."

"You’d rather me hook up with some random person than kiss Dante because you think he’s a dick?" I almost laugh because he’s the one being a dick right now, not Dante.

He rolls over to face me, resting his head on his bicep. It bulges beneath his cheek and I bite back a groan. "Dante wants to do more than just kiss," he tells me, his brows crashing together. I know he’s right. Dante all but begged me to come over tonight. I’d considered it. Just to see what it felt like to sleep with a guy. To sleep with anyone for that matter.

"Some of us would like to experience sex," I grumble. "Even if it’s with some handsy asshole."

"I don't like it." he paused as his eyes roamed over my face and down my chest. I saw his tongue jut out and lick his bottom lip, that in return made my chest ache and my groin throb.

"It's not up to you." I pin him with a hard glare. "Ashley was your first."

"Ashley was different, she was my girlfriend for two years,"

"But you didn't love her," I bite back. "You still slept with her knowing you didn't love her."

He doesn't deny it, he simply glowers at me. "Whatever," he finally snaps. "I'm just trying to protect you."

"Why now?" I demand. "Why protect me now? Where were you for the past two years when I was fucking dying?" My voice rises with each word. "Where were you then?" Our eyes locked and a muscle in his cheek ticks. Instead of answering me, he rolls over to his other side and turns off the lamp. Within minutes he's sound asleep and I'm stuck staring at his ceiling in the dark.

I wonder if we'll ever get back to the way we once were.

Lies On The Lips

A groan wakes me up, it's still dark in the room, but the first signs of morning are making their way through the windows casting a gray hue on everything. Cope is sprawled out like the crazy sleeper he is with one massive arm slung across my chest. It's then I realize my fingers are wrapped in his hair. My heart rate speeds up, but I don't remove them, I close my eyes again hoping sleep will take me before he wakes up. Instead, I think back to a time when we were young boys. Maybe ten or eleven. We promised after Cope's dad had made him cry, that we'd leave. We both promised on our lives we would. Feels like forever ago now.

Then I feel a finger dragging along my bare chest. He’s awake and I wonder if he’s remembering that moment too. After all that’s gone down between us, I expect him to pull away. We’re not ten years old anymore. Cope and I are men. Legally old enough to bail on our parents if we want. It doesn’t seem so black and white now, though. Everything is grayed and muted. "One day," I murmur, mimicking my words from the past. He stiffens but doesn’t pull away and we fall asleep again.

"Get up," Jolting upright, I rub my eyes as I try to place where I’m at. As the room comes into view, I realize I’m at Cope’s house. "Get up," he snaps again, dragging my attention to him. Beside the bed, he paces. He’s fully dressed in a pair of fitted black jeans with pockets, his black combat boots, and a tight Foo Fighters black T-shirt. With his inky hair in disarray and his usual scowl in place, he’s intimidating as hell and looks like a damn god.

"Okay," I groan, my voice raspy from sleep. I toss away the blanket and stand. "Why?" His lip curls up. I wince when his gaze rakes down my bare chest and he glances at where I’m sporting morning wood through my boxers. I know he’ll never believe me that it’s just morning wood, so I ignore his scathing glare to push past him to go to the bathroom. After a piss that settles my cock, I wash up and then exit to find him still pacing. "Your dad came by looking for you. I think you should go home," he grunts, no longer looking as furious.

I wince at his words and grab my jeans that have been placed in a chair in his room. "The last place I want to be is home." No, I’d rather be curled up next to Copeland, in his bed than having to have my ass handed to me by my dad. I quickly get dressed and then find my phone. I have several missed calls from Dad and some texts from Dante asking if I want to hang out today. Ignoring Dad, I reply back to Dante.

Me: Not sure yet. I’ll let you know.

As soon as I pocket my phone, I look up to find Cope watching me with narrowed eyes. "What?" I demand, irritated over his weird attitude this morning.

"Dante?" he sneers.

"Yeah, so?" He rolls his eyes and turns to walk away, but I snag his bicep. Our eyes meet and the anger burns bright and volatile between us.

"Don’t come crying to me when he uses you," he snaps, attempting to shake me away. My grip tightens.

"I’m not going to let him use me. What the hell is your problem this morning?"

His jaw clenches and his blue eyes flicker with fury, shaking me off his arm. "I thought we could spend one night together without you trying to make a move on me."

I frown in confusion. "What?"

He darts his gaze to the floor. "I woke up to your arm around me."

"Give me a break," I groan. "I was asleep!" His head lifts and I notice his face is red with embarrassment. Guilt seeps into me and I let out a heavy sigh. "I’m sorry, okay?" I run my fingers through my hair and plead with my eyes. "I honestly didn’t mean anything if I touched you. Come on, Cope. Don’t be like this." I swallow down the rising panic at losing him over a stupid sleepover. "I need you right now." I need you forever.

His shoulders sag and the anger bleeds away. "It’s fine," he grunts. "Sorry I overreacted." His face flames red again. "It’s just…when my dad came in to wake me to tell me your dad was here…" He trails off, palming his face in frustration. "It didn’t look good. You’re not the only one who has to have a talk with his dad." Taking a chance like old times, I grip his shoulder and pull him to me. I hug him and try desperately not to inhale him. He’s stiff at first but then hugs me back. I could hold on to him for hours, but before I can memorize the way he feels in my arms again, he’s already pulling away.

"Let me do the talking," I tell him as I start for the door. Bryan Lacey may have always been an ass to his son, but the guy likes me for whatever reason. I think in some warped way, I’m everything he wishes Copeland were. Prior to ruining my football career, I had a lot going for me. Decent grades. A good head on my shoulders. A bright future. Cope had a trashy girlfriend, no longer plays sports, and is a tattooed troublemaker. It’s like when we were younger, his dad predicted how his son would turn out and was bitter there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

Cope doesn’t argue with my suggestion, so I wind my way through the house with him on my heels until I find Bryan in the kitchen drinking coffee. He’s dressed in a suit, which means he’s headed for the office. One good thing about Cope’s dad is that he’s a workaholic and is even gone a lot to the office on weekends. He spends more time away from home than actually in it. It’s why Cope always had to have a nanny growing up. His real mom bailed and moved to California. He acts like being abandoned by his mother is her loss, which it is but it still affects him, no matter how much he tries to deny it. "Morning, Mr. Lacey," I say as I help myself to a cup of coffee. Cope stands tense nearby with his arms crossed over his chest.

Bryan looks up from his phone and studies me. "Long time, no see, son."

"Been busy," I reply as I dump in several scoops of sugar into my coffee. "Thanks for letting me crash here last night." I wave to my nose in a splint and then point at my busted lip. "Dad wasn’t exactly happy about this." When I turn, Bryan’s eyes are focused on my face.

"Broke your face, huh?" Bryan asks.

"It’s just football," I grunt. "I’m more than that."

"I’m glad some of us around here use our brains too," Bryan sneers, darting a glance over at Cope. I don’t need to see Cope to know he flinched at those words that were aimed at him. "I see you two boys are awfully friendly again." Bryan’s eyes are sharp and focused like Cope’s. Like he’s waiting for me to come out of the closet and drag Cope along with me. That’ll never happen.

"With football no longer being in the way and Ashley no longer around," I lied, "Cope and I picked right back up where we left off. He’s my best friend." I shrug as if it makes total sense. "We got the gang back together and even saw a movie with Leah Collins last night." I cock my head to look at Cope. "She was there with me and yet you two couldn’t keep your tongues out of each other’s mouths." All lies. These lies fall easy out of my mouth. These lies are ones to protect Cope. Understanding my game, Cope joins in.

"She got hot. You’re just pissed she didn’t want you."

"She wanted me, but that girl Heidi wanted me more."

Bryan chuckles at my lies. "Now, boys. Let me tell you some advice. Girls aren’t worth years of friendship. You already lost two over Ashley, Cope. And while Leah’s a good girl who comes from a good family, you’re both still young. You’ll find women later in life when the time comes. For now, enjoy the rest of high school. Play the field, but don’t get tied down with girlfriends." I sip my coffee as Bryan lightens up and chatters on about some new investments he’s working on. He drops hints several times that they could use interns and that I should intern during the summer before college starts. Cope makes two bowls of cereal and it all feels so familiar. I’ll have to deal with my dad eventually, but for now, I’ll spend time playing referee with Bryan and Cope. Whatever assumptions Bryan had about Cope and me sharing a bed this morning no doubt tangled together like Cope was complaining about have been squashed. As we eat, I catch Cope’s stare on me. His eyes shine with gratitude. I give him a simple nod and pretend to be hella interested in the best annuities on the market according to Bryan.