Dane hugged me with one arm, and studied my face just a half second too long. I looked away before he could get a read.
We racked up and started playing. For a while, it was good. Just the crack of the break, and trash talk, and someone’s bad music coming from the corner speaker. It felt normal and safe.
Then Dane leaned on his cue and asked, “So, where’ve you been hiding all week?”
“Busy,” I said.
“Busy with what?”
“Just stuff. School.”
He let it sit. I thought I was clear.
Ten minutes later, lining up a shot, he asked, “What actually happened with that dare?”
I didn’t look up. “We ended up playing a drinking game. I drank him under the table. Of course.”
“You didn’t invite us over to help destroy the guy?”
“It wasn’t a big deal.” I took my shot. “Drop it.”
Here’s a fact about human nature I’ve confirmed repeatedly over twenty-one years of living: nobody has ever once dropped it when asked to drop it. Not once. Not in recorded history.
Dane didn’t drop it.
He kept picking at the edges of it, casual, the way he did when he already suspected something and was just waiting for a crack to appear. I felt the heat creeping up my neck, and focused very hard on the table.
“I gotta take a piss,” I said finally, setting my cue down.
I disappeared into the bathroom and stopped dead in front of the urinals. Three of them were in a row, and two other guys were already standing on both ends, minding their own business.
Not a chance.
I ducked into the stall, locked it, and unzipped. When I pulled out my caged cock, I looked down with a sigh that came from somewhere deep and defeated. With my dick packed tight in steel, small and useless, my balls looked bigger by a considerable margin. Four days ago, I held a house record at this place. Now I was crouching over a toilet like I had something to hide.
But I did have something to hide.
As the urine flowed, the relief was immediate and significant. Then, the bathroom door opened, and I knew the footsteps instantly.
I forced myself to stop mid-flow. My bladder screamed. I stuffed everything back into my underwear and zipped up with trembling hands.
“Why are you in a stall?” Dane was standing right outside the door.
I looked back and caught his eye through the slat. He was just standing there, watching me.
“What the fuck is your problem? Can’t a guy get some privacy?”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on. You’ve been different.”
I flung the door open, shouldered past him, and went to the sink. “Nothing’s different. Maybe I should be asking what’s going on with you. You’re the one following guys into the bathroom.”
I dried my hands and walked out.
He came in hot right behind me.
“You’re hiding something.” He said it loud enough that the guys stopped playing. Heads turned. I felt the attention land on me like a hand on my shoulder, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t want it.
I turned and looked him dead in the eye. “That’s enough. Drop it, or I’m leaving. I don’t do this drama bullshit.”