WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I DONE?
The words slam into my skull the moment I wake, the hangover hitting half a second later. I lie there, staring at the ceiling of the hotel room, the memories crawling back in broken, horrifying fragments.
My confession. Me telling my best friend, the one person I can't afford to lose, that I like being dominated in bed.
I groan and roll over, burying my face in the pillow. "Fucking hell."
I sit up too fast, head pounding, and softly bang my forehead against the wall as if that will knock the embarrassment out of me. It doesn't. It just hurts more.
What the fuck was I thinking? Goddamn alcohol.
I'm drowning in shame, chest tightening, stomach twisting, when my phone lights up beside me. The name on the screen makes my blood run cold.
Arin.
I stare at it, wanting to throw the phone out the window, wanting to run, wanting to disappear for the next thirty years, but I hate ignoring him more than I hate my own humiliation.
So with my heart thudding like it's trying to escape, I swipe to answer.
"Rafe... how are you feeling?" he asks.
His voice is too soft. Too warm. Too everything I shouldn't want.
"Like shit," I mutter.
He chuckles, deep, rumbly, warm enough to crawl under my skin and settle where it shouldn't.
"Listen," he says, "I am going to my uncle's cottage tomorrow. The one I told you had ghosts. Me, Jeneffer and her girlfriend. Do you want to come with us?"
For a moment, I forget to breathe.
I've known Jeneffer as long as I've known Arin. We've spent half our childhood summers together, ghost stories under blankets, failed attempts at summoning demons, that one night something actually knocked on the door and we all screamed like idiots.
She's a sweetheart.
"Will she be okay if I come?" I ask.
"She was the one who suggested it. It will be fun, Rafe."
My chest loosens just a little. "Okay."
"Great. I will let her know."
"And about last night..." I say before he can hang up, voice barely holding together.
"Don't worry about it, dude." He says, cutting me off. "I don't care what gender you are into. Pack your bags, okay? I will pick you up early tomorrow morning."
The call ends, leaving me staring at my reflection in the black screen.
I don't know whether to laugh, cry, or book a one-way flight to another continent.
Arin texts me 'Here' at exactly 6:04 a.m at the next morning.
Good thing I had packed my stuff last night. There's not much in my travel bag; we were only going to be there for two nights. I woke up at five in the morning. I was awake the whole night. Because every time I closed my eyes, I heard myself saying the words I like being the submissive in bed, followed by the inevitable urge to crawl under the mattress and die.
But I zip the bag anyway, sling it over my shoulder, and step outside.
Arin's SUV waits at the curb. He's leaning out of the driver's window, hair messy from the early start, wearing a hoodie, and that stupid grin that never fails to make my heart race a little faster.
"Morning, hot head," he calls out.
"Morning," I mutter. "Hey, Jen," I say, raising my hand to greet her. Her has her legs pulled up, hands around her knees, hoodie string pulled tight to hide her face, hands pulled inside the sleeves. He raises her hand, but goes back to sleep.
Arin steps out to grab my bag. His hand brushes mine accidentally and my pulse jumps and it's ridiculous how my body reacts. And perhaps more so after my confession because now he knew a part of me that no one knew.
I climb into the passenger seat, trying to pretend my heart isn't pounding.
Jeneffer pops her head forward from the back.
"Rafe! Can you make sure my brother doesn't play his shitty playlist. Here take my phone, I have selected few songs specifically for this trip."
"Okay, I will try my best," I say with a wink.
Arin clears his throat. "Slow moody songs is not my vibe...I like to stay awake while driving."
"I have ice coffee in the back," Jen adds. "Anyway, this is Taylor."
A woman beside her gives me a shy smile. She's wearing a beanie, dark hair tucked behind her ears, eyes soft but sharp all at once.
"Hi," Taylor says. "I've heard a lot about you."
"All lies, I hope," I answer, as I offer her my hand.
"Unfortunately, no," Jen mutters, elbowing her girlfriend playfully.
Arin shoots them a look in the rearview mirror. "Seatbelts. Unless you want to haunt this trip for real."
Everyone buckles in. The engine hums. The car rolls forward, and we're leaving the city behind, roads thinning, trees gathering, the world shifting into softer shades of green and morning light.
Music fills the SUV, a mix of upbeat and serene from Jen's playlist. She starts belting the lyrics dramatically, Taylor joining in with quiet murmurs. Arin taps his fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm.
I sit there, stealing glances at him while pretending to stare out the window.
His profile is unfairly perfect, strong jaw, golden skin, the morning sun kissing the curve of his cheekbone. He's relaxed, humming under his breath, as if that night hadn't changed anything. And why should it...I hadn't told him the biggest secret of all...that I was deeply and irrevocably in love with him.
"Hey," he says suddenly, eyes still on the road. "You good?"
I straighten. "Yeah. Why?"
"You're quiet."
"Since when is that new?" I try to joke.
He smiles, a small, private one. "Just checking."
My throat goes dry. I turn back to the window, letting the cold glass anchor me. Forest gathers on both sides now, tall trees rising like quiet sentinels. The air seems fresher, heavier with earth and moss.
"Is the cottage really haunted?" I ask.
"Absolutely," Jen says from behind me. "The ghosts have been expecting us."
Taylor snorts. "It's probably raccoons."
"No," Jen insists, "Last time something moved in the pantry. I swear I saw an aparision."
Arin laughs. "It was probably me."
"Probably," Jen shrugs. "Remember you sleepwalked one time. And whispered something creepy like 'don't look in the mirror.'"
Arin grins. "I have no memory of this," he says before turning to me and winking.
"Shut up! I was so scared. I didn't sleep for a month straight." Jen shouts.
The car bursts into laughter, Taylor quietly, Jen dramatically, Arin with that effortless glow that makes everything around him lighter.
And me? I feel something loosening inside. This was familiar and I could pretend I hadn't said anything to Arin.
The cottage appears through the trees like something out of a quiet postcard, warm wooden walls, a steep roof, sunlight catching on the windows. Not haunted like Jen and Arin claimed.
"This place is adorable," Taylor says as she hops out of the SUV.
"Yeah, right," Jeneffer shoots back. "Just wait till the ghosts show themselves."
Arin laughs under his breath and grabs both his bag and mine before I can protest. "Come on, Rafe. First time at the infamous cottage."
I follow him up the porch steps, the wood creaking gently beneath our feet. Inside, the cottage opens into a breath of warmth, sunlight spilling across a sprawling living room, a stone fireplace, and a kitchen with hanging copper pans. Soft blankets drape across the couches. The whole place smells faintly of pine and lemon cleaner.
Not haunted at all. Not even close.
If there is anything dangerous here, it's standing two feet in front of me, carrying my bag like it's weightless.
There are two bedrooms. One for Jeneffer and Taylor, who call dibs with shameless triumph. The other one is naturally...ours.
I feel Arin's gaze flick to me, casual but not casual enough, as if he's checking whether I mind. I don't. I do. I don't know.
We settle our stuff in the room. A queen-sized bed dominates the space. One bed. A window overlooking the woods. I swear this feels like a overly cliche romance movie.
"Gonna shower," he says casually walking in the shower.
I sigh when he is gone like I was holding my breath in his presence that I didn't even know about. I look around the modest room. The bed is clean, flush, floor is made of rustic wood including the walls and roof. The window is overlooking a beautiful lake and my interest perks when I see a boat at the shore.
I hear the bathroom door and I turn to ask Arin about the boat when all words die in my throat. Because walking out of the bathroom was Arin completely naked. Not a towel, well the said towel was hanging around his neck and not wrapped around his waist. Not an underwer or anything to hide his jewels. I have seen him naked before. Severa times. We were teammates and we have taken communal showers many times, but this...this setting, this intimacy, with only the two of us in the room, it felt intense, it felt wrong.
And I...I can't looking. I am unable to ignore the wet skin, the droplets sliding down his well-defined muscles, golden in the afternoon light. My brain blanks out so violently I almost forget how to breathe.
He's rummaging through his luggage, humming softly, like this is the most normal thing in the world. My eyes travel down to the strong back, to the curve of his hip, the—
Nope. No. I am going to spontaneously combust.
I force myself to look away. I kneel by my own bag, pretending to look for my towel. My hands shake just slightly, and I want to scold myself for it/
Focus, Rafe. You have faced six-foot-five defenders charging at you full speed. You can handle one naked best friend.
Can I though?
I grab my towel and clothes in a mortal panic. I'm not coming out of that shower naked. If I did, my dignity would implode.
When I look up, Arin has already pulled on boxers and laying back on the bed, perched up on his elbows, body relaxed, hair dripping down his temple.
He watches me with a indulgent kind of amusement.
His eyes run along my body, my towel, my shirt. A slow grin threatens to touch his lips, but he doesn't comment. He just studies me, warm and amused, as if he's enjoying something he won't name. I pray like hell he doesn't notice the bulge in my jeans.
"You good?" Arin asks finally, voice low, smooth, casual.
"Fine," I say, too quickly, too sharply. "Just taking a shower."
"Come out fast. I am going to get started with the dinner preparation." His grins.
I clutch my clothes and walk toward the bathroom, determined not to collapse under whatever this is.
Just before I close the door, I lean against the door and take a few long breaths. "God, how was I going to survive the next two days here," I mutter to myself.
****
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