Yearn A. Ellis (carter reed .TXT) 📖

Logan had two cats at Bev’s place, Sugar and Spice. They were pretty much just the house cats; we all loved them. I knew Dre liked animals, but watching him with the dogs and cats at the animal shelter really drove the point home.

“You want a dog or cat some day?” I asked.

“Definitely, but not while working EMT shifts. I feel like I wouldn’t be able to take good care of it being gone for such long stretches.” Dre threw the ball for the dog we were playing with to fetch.

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Having Logan’s cats at home is good enough for now. One day, when I’m doing design stuff only, I’ll have cats and most likely a dog.” Dre smiled as the dog barreled back to us with the ball.

Each place we went together, I saw more and more of Dre to like. He definitely wasn’t that closeted, hateful, scared-to-death kid I’d met ten years ago. He was a strong, proud, gay, Black man who loved his friends, adored animals, was great with kids, and had a creative flair that shone brightly.

I’d known I was falling farther and farther down the rabbit hole of conflicting feelings toward Dre for a while, but there was no way I could do anything about it. Dre and I were partners, possibly edging toward being pseudo friends, and I wasn’t about to ruin that with admitting I might have—maybe, sort of—liked him.

So what if I was going insane wanting to kiss him again? Wanting his mouth on mine, my lips spread for him, our bodies coming together in a hot, sweaty tangle. Maybe I’d moved somewhat away from the animosity and irritation, but the attraction and warmth I’d started feeling toward Dre was no better.

He had plans for his life. I had plans for mine. There was no way those plans included each other.

I’d never gotten over the feeling of not being good enough and it haunted me still. Dre deserved better than me—hell, how did I even know if he felt the same toward me?

We’d been getting along okay since Indy, but that was only because we never once brought up what had happened in the hotel and the strain of keeping up the pretense was exhausting. The tension between us came to a head on the day we went to talk to Hadley’s class at school. The day before, we’d been to the homeless shelter and I saw such compassion in Dre; a switch flipped in me. The strength of all those years of disliking him washed over me ten-fold as I realized with dread and self-loathing that I’d gone and let myself develop feelings for Dre.

Fuck.

As we followed Hadley out to recess after eating lunch with her—the class chat had gone well and hopefully they learned something—she raced to a bench. “This is the friend bench. You sit on it and make a friend.” She watched us with an expectant look. “Sit.”

Not sure how to tell the little girl no, Dre and I—two big guys in our dark blue pants and department logo polos and fleece jackets—sat on the bench.

“Now you talk and say you’re friends,” Hadley said. “Like this, Hi, I’m Dre, do you want to be my friend?”

I nudged Dre with my elbow.

“Oh, um, yeah. Hi,” he said as he threw a shy grin my way, “I’m Dre, do you want to be my friend?”

Hadley pointed to me. “And now you say, Hi, I’m Khi, yeah, let’s be friends.”

Back when I’d first moved in at Remington Place, there’s no way I would have let my guard down enough to play friends, even for a sweet little girl. But now, I gave a smirk and a shrug and stuck out my hand to Dre. “Hi, I’m Khi. Yeah, let’s be friends.”

Dre shook my hand and a hot, electric current zipped through me as his eyes caught mine and refused to let go.

Hadley chattered on, oblivious to the thick sexual tension between her two grown-up friends. When the bell rang, we walked her to class and signed out in the office.

On the way home, I analyzed my options. Admit to Dre I possibly didn’t hate him anymore and see if he wanted to continue what had started in the hotel? Or skip straight to the hooking up part? Admitting the hate was disintegrating seemed like a dangerous move. Letting in feelings? Unsure of what came next? If I didn’t hate Dre, did that mean I liked him?

And offering to hook up with your partner and housemate seems safe?

No, but I’d been going crazy thinking about what we’d shared that night. Maybe Cooper was right and we could enjoy some hot sex knowing it wasn’t leading to anything in particular. Sex could just be sex.

“What’s your favorite color?” Dre asked as we walked up the back steps to the house.

I rolled my eyes but chuckled. “Just because we sat on the friend bench you think we’re besties now?”

Dre snorted. “I’m not holding my breath for that to ever happen. I just noticed that you wear a lot of muted tones so I was wondering if you liked any specific colors.”

I shrugged and dropped my bag by the stairs before returning to the kitchen where Dre was scavenging in the refrigerator. “No real favorite, I tend to go with grays and blues a lot I think.”

“I can see that. If you ever let me dress you, I’m going to make it my mission to get you in something with at least a splash of color. I can see you in a Dre King tailored suit, so gray it’s almost black, with a purple tie and pocket square. Nothing flashy, just a pop.” Dre gave up in the fridge and turned to the counter where he picked up a note as he reached for a cookie. “Bev’s at her friend’s before they go to bingo. Dinner is in the crock-pot. She doesn’t think anyone will be around for food