The Love Triangle Expedition
Hayden Hall
Damien lifted the edge of his plain white T-shirt and wiped the sweat off his glistening brow, causing me to hold my breath and almost drop the peg from my hands. I had enough presence of mind to tighten my grip around the peg for safekeeping and felt my heart murmur with sadness, sinking lower in my chest.
He leaned back, still rubbing the white fabric over his face, letting the late afternoon sun illuminate the taut skin on his rippling abs, glistening with perspiration. Like a beacon of fire, he stood tall and firm, showing no trace of exhaustion or fatigue, even though today had been long and strenuous. As he dropped his T-shirt back down, he grinned at me and asked, “How’s that pegging going?”
I snorted, rolled my eyes, mumbled something unintelligible and got busy on my side of the tent.I’d let you peg me any day,I thought idly and barked at myself for indulging.
Ever since we were twelve, maybe thirteen, I had been aware of Damien in that way. The fact that we came out to each other at the same time only complicated things further. And then there was the summer we spent at that prep camp, as well as the four years of college when we lived in the same boarding house as all of our friends.
I had hoped against all odds that this past year I would finally break free of it. It was foolish of me to believe time and distance would have any effect, especially after years of friend-zoning had failed to change anything. Even when I had done my best to stay away and let my feelings die, Damien had always been just a phone call away, and I had never been able to resist picking up when his name and photo lit up my screen.
If only he were the entirety of my problem, I would be fine. But no, my greedy ass wasn’t satisfied with getting stuck in just one friend zone.
“Elliot!” called the other voice from a distance.
Tanner, the second half of my torment, hauled a large canister of water up the slope. His black hair was cropped on the sides, but long on top, and tousled locks stuck to his brow with sweat. “Yeah?” I answered.
“Need a hand.” he called back at me, dropping the canister on the ground.
I glanced at Damien, who was busy with another peg on the opposite end of the tent.
“Hurry,” Damien said with mock urgency. “That hand job can’t wait.”
I shook my head dismissively at him and blocked the mental images by instinct. Suffice to say I was well and truly used to Damien and Tanner’s horny banter and boyish sense of humor.
Not only am I used to it, I am fucking in love with it. But it was also like pulling apart a wound that never truly healed. It was like tearing the flesh open whenever it began mending itself. Except that I knew it wasn’t really mending. It had never done so and never would.
I rushed down the slope and lifted the canister while Tanner panted. His pale, creamy skin was in contrast with Damien’s summer tan. I had the taste for both. Damien was tall, broad, and V-shaped. His muscles were lean and well defined. Tanner was shorter, much closer to my height even if he still had a few inches on me. His build was athletic and toned with clearly visible muscles, but much smoother outlines.
And I? I was nothing special. Sort of scrawny with a flat stomach and some abs, an alright ass, slightly extruded chest from occasional bouts of motivation that led me to the nearby gym, a haircut that was just stylish enough that I could pass for a twenty-first century guy, and a pair of ears that were larger than I would have liked.
Tanner lifted his finely shaped arms high above his head and leaned back, stretching his muscles and growling up at the sky. When he returned to normal, he smiled. “You look like you regret getting out of bed this morning.”
I chuckled at that. “Considering we’re sleeping in bags in a tent tonight…” I let the words trail off and watched Tanner laugh. “Nah, I’m glad we’re here.”
He threw his arm over my shoulders casually. He’d always had an easy time showing friendly affection. Almost as if the idea I might feel more than friendliness was so impossible to think of that he had never fretted about it. He simply touched me in passing, whenever it suited him. Tanner would keep his arm around my shoulders or hold my hand or fix my hair like there wasn’t any way for me to misinterpret the gestures.
And if that cold shower didn’t wake me up from my lucid dream of getting into bed with him, nothing ever would. Spoiler alert; I still wanted it. Even at his most casual, Tanner exuded confidence and sex appeal. He was my first ever wet dream and just another half of the same crack that went through the middle of my heart.
“It’s breathtaking here,” he said, holding me in a friendly embrace, his face awash with wonder and excitement. In front of us, the slope led down to a sprawling grassy field and a magnificent lake with rocky beaches and an old, wooden pier jutting out into the water. Tanner had gone to the lake to get us some emergency water, just in case we needed it for our campfire later. Damien had already brought enough beer for the three of us, so we were set for the evening.
“Absolutely gorgeous,” I agreed, taking in the stunning vista. On both sides of the lake, as well as in the far distance, there were never-ending stretches of lush forest. Oak, birch, poplar, elm, and beech trees were everywhere, and the midsummer greenery was a welcome change from the concrete jungle I had left behind in the city.
It was a much-needed escape. My heart had been stubbornly resistant to moving on, and my life had become stagnant as a result. I despised my job developing products for a bank where no one knew me, as well as my apartment, which I could only afford on my own, and its soulless, abstract art hanging on the walls. I loathed waking up beside strangers as though I were still a college student running away from my feelings.
Tanner’s heavy breathing from the climb brought me back to the present. I glanced at him and my heart leaped like a loyal dog seeing its owner after a long absence. Tanner’s eyes sparkled and his dimples were on full display as he grinned broadly for no apparent reason. He was simply happy to be alive and present in this magnificent place. “Okay,” he said after a moment of staring into the distance. “I’ll go get the other one.”
I grabbed the first canister he’d brought and carried it the rest of the way. Up by the tent, the oddest, least rational wave of guilt washed over me. I had just been touched by Tanner, who I had fallen for on the first day of high school, as soon as I had laid my eyes on him. And up here, Damien, my childhood friend and my gay awakening, was finishing the job of setting up our tent. It felt like I had been dishonest to Damien on some abstract, non-existent plane of consciousness, simply by feeling the pull toward Tanner.
It was a feeling so familiar to me that I didn’t know who I would be without it. I had felt that way for the past nine years, albeit in varying degrees of intensity. Some days, a long time ago, I had preferred one over the other; then, their places would switch. But as the wild teenage hormones leveled out, I discovered I was attracted to them both in equal measures.
And therein lies my biggest problem.
Others in our group of friends somehow found love. Caleb had Jayden, and the two were conquering the world one step at a time; Joshua married Mateo and became his Prince Consort; London had somehow managed to fall in love with his sister’s boyfriend, Gabriel, and ended up with him. Hudson and Tate had gone from hating each other’s guts to being the fiercest couple I’d ever met. Marco and Stefan had built their relationship on a lifetime of friendship, while Dayton and Parker had discovered how well they fit after a long while of sneaking around behind Parker’s big brother’s back. And that big brother, Justin, won back his first ever sweetheart, Theo, after years of resentment.
I was seeing a pattern. All these friends of mine had their other half. Me? I was spread thin between two boys who’d never seen me as anything more than their best and truest friend. Between the parts of my heart I had given Damien and Tanner, I was missing two thirds of myself.
