Changing Tides 《COMPLETE》

Chapter 18

It's not because he's gay or the fact that it took him almost a half a decade to tell me. What's causing all my inner turmoil? Our kiss. Sounds stupid as hell, I know. But it's true. I've analyzed it to pieces – both on his end and on mine.

What does that say about his feelings for me? Or my feelings for him?

Roland isn't some stranger. I've known him for years, always looking at him through a lens of a friend. In less than five minutes, the entire foundation and understanding of our relationship seemed to crumble around me. Now that I'm left with the pieces, I have to figure out how to put them back together in a way that makes sense.

I hastily grab my gym bag from the locker and throw my goggles and swim cap inside. Roland approaches me cautiously. He adjusts his bag around his shoulder and leans against the lockers.

"How'd your swim go?" he asks.

"Got second," I mutter, searching for my clothes.

He studies my features with pursed lips. Most people would congratulate me, but he knows better. I take competition seriously, swimming included. To make matters worse, I took second place to Bennett. A loss is never easy. Losing to him was just adding salt to the wound.

"You'll place first next time," Roland assures me after a beat of silence.

I grunt under my breath and throw on my shirt. Instead of changing out of my knee-length speedo, I just throw on a pair of sweatpants overtop of them. Hopefully if I leave now I'll get back to Bennett's condo with enough time to take a leisurely shower before he gets home.

I shut the locker and start making my way towards the exit. Roland falls in step beside me, the two of us walking in silence. My eyes catch on his hand as he holds the door open for me. His fingers are long and slender, the knuckles pronounced and the skin smooth.

There's a weird tingling in my chest as I imagine how just a week ago those hands were on me, their strength being used to gently keep me in place. Heat rises to my cheeks at the memory.

"Thanks," I mumble.

The heavy door closes behind us, and nothing but the sound of our feet slapping against the tiled hallway fills the silence. Roland glances behind his shoulder when we exit the swimming building and head towards the parking lot.

"What are you up to this weekend?" he asks.

The parking lot is sprinkled with only a handful of cars. Most days it's much busier, but seeing as it's Friday, it appears most people have checked out for the weekend. My eyes locate Roland's car at the opposite end of the lot. I've spent countless hours in his car, mindlessly chatting about everything from football to Annie to the new pizza toppings I tried last week.

I scratch at the back of my neck, rolling my thumb against the sore muscle.

"Not sure," I answer with a shrug. "You?"

We come to a standstill at the middle of the parking lot and Roland purses his lips. Why does talking to him feel so different now? So difficult? It's like I'm meeting him all over again.

"I'm taking a summer class," Roland responds. "I'll probably just do a bit of studying...take it easy."

I nod, not knowing what else to say. Roland is a pretty quiet guy. It's a trait many women found mysteriously appealing over the years, and for the longest time it irritated the hell out of me. I worked hard to get women to notice me, and yet all he had to do was stand there – all broody and shit.

Over the years though, his quiet nature somehow found a comforting balance with my bold personality. He became the calm to my storm, the whispered voice of reason always present in the back of my mind. Our differences worked. They blended together to make an odd sort of friendship that, looking back now, I took for granted for way too long.

But right now I'm not the one who has the words to fill the silence. And because of this, it's the first time that Roland's quiet nature is causing a strain in the moment. An awkward stillness sits stagnant in the air between us. Before allowing it to get worse I start to raise my hand in a parting wave.

To my surprise, Roland takes a step towards me, and a look of determination crosses his features.

"How long are you going to live with him?"

My gaze swivels to meet his. It's a simple question, one that isn't asked with any sort of emotion behind it. Yet in his gaze I can see there's an aching emotion swarming in his orbs of rich chocolate. Jealousy...and possibly hurt? I swallow and adjust my gym bag again on my shoulder.

"I mean, I don't have it mapped out on a calendar," I answer with a grunt. "I'm just staying there until I find a place of my own."

Roland scratches along his jaw and glances at his feet. "You know you're always welcome to crash in your old room, right? Just while you're apartment searching."

Truth be told, I'd love to go back to my old room. To wake up to smelling freshly brewed coffee and cleaning supplies rather than stale beer and burnt pizza. Staying at Bennett's is more of a nightmare than I thought it would be. He either ignores my existence or finds any means possible to make me feel uncomfortable.

But I can't move back. What kind of message would that send to Roland? Even if I told him it was just because I needed a place to stay, there's a chance he'll think it's a sign I have feelings for him. I mean, wouldn't he?

"I'm not asking you to move back in," Roland adds, as if sensing my discomfort. "I'm just letting you know that if you ever need a place to stay, you're always welcome."

I stuff my hands in my pockets. "Alright. Thanks, man."

"No problem." He swallows hard, and I notice a light blush blossoming in the tips of his cheeks. "So listen, I was thinking...if you're free tonight, you should stop over."

"What you got going on tonight?"

"Not much. I'm thinking of ordering a pizza and watching a few movies."

My stomach tenses at the thought of being alone with Roland, behind closed doors. Would he try to kiss me again? Do I want him to? It's not like I can avoid hanging out with him forever. Hell, for all I know, I'm overthinking all of this. Just because he kissed me once doesn't mean he has feelings for me.

Besides, I was the one who asked him to prove his sexuality, and he was the one who broke the kiss first. None of that points to him having feelings for me. Just because he's gay doesn't means he has feelings for me either. He's probably just trying to start down the road of patching our friendship back together.

If that's the case, why should I keep turning down his attempts?

"Alright," I agree, still slightly reluctant. "That sounds good."

A genuine smile breaks across Roland's face and my eyes fall to his lips. The bottom is slightly plumper than the top, and my mouth salivates remembering how it felt having it pressed against mine. My brain fills in the details, replaying our kiss as if it happened only minutes ago. Everything about it felt good – his lips, his tongue, the way his fingers slid around my waist...

"Cool," Roland says, pulling me out of my daydream. "See you in an hour or two?"

"Yea," I say, trying to work through the emotions now racing through my mind. "See you then."