Changing Tides 《COMPLETE》

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

"Trey? C'mon, man. Open up. You've been in there for over an hour."

Roland's muted voice fills the silence. The two, burning tears that escaped my eyes earlier have dried. Now they're nothing more than invisible streaks of pain. I can feel them stretching across my skin every time I open my mouth. They're a mocking reminder of the happy couple of the hour.

I trudge to the door and flip open the lock. I cradle the handle in my palm before taking a deep breath and tugging it open. Roland stands at the threshold, his arm raised above his head and leaning casually against the doorframe. His brows are pinched in concern, but the rest of his face is devoid of emotion.

I nod for him to come inside and flop back into bed. He closes the door behind him, and I half expect him to take a seat at the end of my bed. But he doesn't. Instead he keeps his distance and stuffs his hands in his jean pockets.

"I would ask what this was about," he says after a stretch of silence. "But based off of the message thread that was opened in my phone...I think I have a fairly good idea."

"Yea," I mumble. "Sorry about that. I shouldn't have texted him. I shouldn't have read it in the first place."

The apology is so drowned in my own bitterness that it's hard to tell that I'm being sincere. Roland nods in acknowledgement.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No."

Roland glances around my room. His dark eyes dance over my unkempt closet and across my floor which is scattered in piles of clothes. His silent tour pauses at the hamper where my clothes from last night were kicked in its general direction earlier this morning.

He squints at it, and my stomach knots wondering if Bennett left an article of clothing behind. I follow his gaze and see Bennett's belt snaking around the side of the hamper. It's black leather and not unlike the ones I have hanging up in my closet, but the signature belt buckle gives it away. It's large, gaudy, and has 'DJ Silver' written in bold letters. How did I not notice it this morning?

Roland's jaw tightens and he takes a slow breath before focusing his attention on me again. The hurt in his expression is palpable, but a silent understanding passes between us. Without having to ask more, he recognizes the reason behind my hurt. He knows the reason behind my reaction to Weston's text.

"You'd think being gay would make all of this less complicated," Roland says, weakly waving towards my hamper. "But it doesn't."

Sleeping with Bennett was something I wanted. Having him touch me, kiss me, want me...

Hell, if he hadn't left this morning, I would have been willing to have the same talk with him that he had with Weston. But it meant nothing to him. Fuck, it meant less than nothing. Our night together literally sent him running back to his pseudo-ex. Was it really that bad for him?

"It's not complicated," I respond dryly. "Bennett's just a dick."

Either that or I'm terrible in bed.

Roland rubs at the back of his neck and huffs. "Shit, Trey. I don't know how to respond to that."

His earlier emotions are still prominent in his expression, but there's an edge of jealously that's weaving itself into his tapestry of pain. I start regretting this entire conversation and grit out an apology. Roland shakes his head.

"Don't apologize. He was an idiot if he had you in his grasp and let you go."

My stomach tightens. I'm still getting used to the fact that not only is my best friend gay, but he's also interested in me. The obvious statement of flirtation catches me off guard. I drop my gaze and pick at the frayed end of my comforter which still smells of sweat and Bennett's cologne.