BESTFRIEND?

One: Never Have I Ever

BESTFRIEND?

"Hey, Ryan - heads up!"
The ball comes flying at my face like it has personal beef with me. I brace instinctively, palms out, fingers steady.
Impact.

It drops clean into my hands.
"Nice catch, Ryan!" Evan calls from across the field.

I toss him a lazy salute.
"If only you could keep chicks like that," he adds, jogging backward with that
shark-grin he thinks is charming.

I snort. "Shut the fuck up, man. Seriously."
He raises his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying."

Yeah. He's always just saying.

The late afternoon sun bleeds gold over Crestmont High's football field, sweat cooling on my skin, jersey sticking to my back. The crowd's gone. Practice is over. Senior year almost done. Five months left before everything changes.

And I still don't have my shit figured out.

Allow me to introduce myself.
Ryan Hollan. Nineteen. Quarterback. Six foot two. Dark skin, broad shoulders, good arm, decent grades when I actually try. People think I've got everything mapped out - scholarships, girls, future.

Cliché, right?

But here's the part no one knows.
"Ryan! Time to go!"

There he is.
Charlie Hollaran.

Five foot one. Red hair that catches fire in the sunlight. Green eyes sharp enough to dissect you but soft enough to forgive you.

Always smells like paperbacks and something clean and sweet I can't place. Probably soap. Probably heaven.

We've been best friends since diapers.
And I've been in love with him since I was sixteen.

Yeah.

Go ahead. Call me a coward.

I've dated girls. Plenty. Smiled for pictures. Played the part. Tried to bury whatever this is under layers of denial and football and "bro" culture.

Doesn't fucking work.

He opens his arms and I don't even hesitate.

I step into him, wrapping my arms around his small frame, pulling him close. Too close. Always too close.

"Hello," he laughs softly, patting my back. "Great to see you."

"Yeah," I murmur into his hair. "Missed you."

God, I did.

He fits against me like he was built for it. Tiny waist. Warm body. My hands span almost his entire back and I have to physically stop myself from sliding them lower.

This is the only excuse I get to hold him.

He still calls me his teddy bear.

He has no idea what that does to me.

My heart pounds - not cute pounding. Not romantic pounding.
War drums.
Like a thousand fucking armies marching inside my chest.

"Yeah, I missed you too, Teddy..." he says, and then stiffens slightly. "Buddy, you can let go now."

He's laughing when he shoves at my shoulders.

I release him slowly. Reluctantly.
He looks up at me, auburn hair falling over his forehead, those stupidly bright eyes locking with mine like he's searching for something.

Sometimes I think he can see straight through me.
"Okay, Teddy. Can we go now?"
I nod, grabbing my duffel. "Yeah."
We head to my car.

"So," he starts as we walk, adjusting the strap of his book bag, "you're dropping me at my place, right? Then later we'll finish our homework."

I groan dramatically. "Homework? Don't be such a damn nerd, Charlie. Can we have a little fun without the mention of academic responsibility?"

He laughs - and fuck, that sound.

He steps closer to me near the passenger side door, and I swear he does it unconsciously. His scent hits me again. Sweet. Clean. Addictive.

I inhale without meaning to.
"Well," he says, leaning against the car and tilting his head, "unless you want our grades to drop, homework is happening. Fun can exist responsibly."

"God, you sound like a guidance counselor."

"And you sound like a walking bad decision."

I grin. "Can't we have just a little fun
first?"
He narrows his eyes at me, suspicious. "Define fun."

"That's the exciting part."

He studies me for a long second. He knows that look on my face. The one that means trouble.

"Oh no," he says. "Ryan Hollan, don't you dare."

I unlock the car with a beep. "Never have I ever."

He freezes mid-step.
"You're kidding."
"Nope."
"That game ruins lives."
"That's dramatic."
"That game exposes secrets."
"Exactly."
His eyes flicker - just for a second - and something unreadable crosses his face.

Interesting.

I smirk. "One round before homework. You agreed to a game."

He hesitates. I can see the gears turning. He's calculating risk like always.

Finally, he sighs. "Fine. One round."
He slides into the passenger seat.
I circle around to the driver's side, heart beating a little too fast.

Because here's the thing.

I'm tired of pretending.

Tired of girls I don't feel anything for.

Tired of pretending his hugs don't wreck me.

Tired of being the confident quarterback who can't even tell his best friend the truth.

Maybe I won't confess today.

Maybe I won't confess tomorrow.
But "Never Have I Ever" is a dangerous game.

And I'm starting to think I want something to slip.

I start the engine, glancing over at him.
"Seatbelt," I say.
He rolls his eyes but clicks it in.
"Teddy," he mutters, shaking his head. "You're going to regret this."

Maybe.
But as I pull out of the parking lot, watching the sunset reflect in his green eyes, I realize something.

I already regret not telling him.

And for the first time in years...

I think I'm done running from myself.