Page 23 of Unforgettable Player

“Urgh.” My embarrassment returns and I cover my face.

When I pull my hands away, he’s watching me with a weird smile.

“What?” I ask.

He blinks slowly again—like he zoned out—before shaking his head. “Nothing.”

We go back to watching the movie in stiff silence. And then he yawns. Arms above his head. His smell … god, his smell … attacks me. That masculine deodorant, mixed with the faintest hint of fresh sweat. I can imagine the hairs in his armpits when he raises his arms. The sliver of belly showing under his t-shirt that I won’t allow myself to look at.

When he puts his arms down, he lets one drape over the back of the couch behind my head—almost like he has his arm around me. If this were absolutely anyone else, I might think he did the old fake yawn bit to get closer to me.

Now he’s wafted his scent around the place like a gorilla marking his territory, I can’t escape it. It doesn’t help that he has his arm propped up behind me on the couch. The glow of the TV highlights the way his sweatpants tighten around his thighs and…. I don’t realize I’m eying the shape of his dick and biting my lip until I glance up and find him watching me.

My breath catches. Shit.

I made it so obvious. He’s going to be disgusted, angry … wait, if I didn’t know better, I’d read the look on his face as the heavy-lidded, glassy-eyed look of desire.

He leans in … what’s happening?

“Connor?” My voice comes out small, but he pauses inches from my face anyway. His minty toothpaste makes my head swim and my lids get heavy.

My eyes are closed when something brushes against my lips. It takes me a second to realize that he’s kissing me, that the skin brushing against my mouth, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine, is Connor’s lips—lips I’ve imagined kissing a million times. My head spins as I start to move my mouth and I’m suddenly overwhelmed, my heart pounding, breath catching.

I pull away. “Wait, stop.” It’s like trying to repel a magnet. But I do it.

He’s a little breathless as he looks at me. His face is a map of confusion and desire.

“Why did you ... I mean, what was….”

He blinks hard at me, like he’s just as surprised by what he did as I am. “I wanted to kiss you.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Because … you’re hot and I⁠—”

I snort. It’s not the most attractive sound I’ve ever made, but I think it accurately portrays how I’m feeling.

Connor’s forehead crinkles. “Eli, you are hot.”

“Even if that were true, you’re straight.”

He swallows. “No, I’m not.”

I shake my head. Surely ‘wishful thinking brain’ is translating this all wrong. “You had a ton of girlfriends in⁠—”

“I’m bi.”

“Oh.” My heart does a little jig before I give it a reality check. “Well, still …”

“Still what?”

“We shouldn’t …” I shake my head, not quite able to believe I’m going to do this. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

Yes, why not, Elliot? “Why do you think?”

I glance up at the wall where family photos of Connor and Scout hang. High school graduations and Christmas mornings. They may not get along as well these days, but they are brother and sister, and maybe them not getting along is even more reason why this can’t happen. I think about what happened at Scout’s sweet sixteen, how upset she was, and everything in me shrivels in shame.