"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to join Scott Allan Thomas and Kathleen Rose Malone in holy matrimony..."
I swallow the painful lump that has formed in my throat as Reverend Parker begins the ceremony that will officially shatter what's left of my broken heart.
My tux feels like it's suffocating me, and I want nothing more than to curl up into a ball on the floor of the church and wait for the ground to swallow me whole, but he's my best friend, and she's my sister. So I'll be the man that everyone has always known and expected me to be, and I'll stand by his side and wish the two of them all the happiness in the world.
Even though my chances of such a future are completely hopeless.
As time-honored words of love and commitment are read from various passages in the Bible, I do my best to keep the smile plastered on my face for their sake. I love them both more than anything, so the least I can do is not let them know just how badly I'm dying on the inside.
My eyes swim with unshed tears, and I try my hardest to push the gut-wrenching thoughts from my mind and focus on Scott and Kate as they're united in holy matrimony. I've never seen her so blissfully happy, and my heart warms as I take in her beaming smile. The girl is practically glowing as she stares adoringly into his sparkling, sapphire eyes, and I'm so unbelievably grateful because I couldn't have asked for a better husband for my sister.
Scott and I have been best friends ever since the third grade, after my parents divorced, and my mom, sister and I moved from Rochester to Buffalo and into the house next door to his. The three of us were practically inseparable over the years, so it came as no surprise to anyone when Kate began dating Scott in high school, despite the fact that she was a year older than him.
It had been difficult, to say the least, seeing them grow closer together as time went on, doing things without me, holding hands, kissing each other's lips.
Unable to bear being near them when I knew they were being intimate with one another, I had decided to move out to Texas for college, to escape the secret wants and desires that threatened to be my undoing.
While we were separated, I tried so very hard to make myself forget, to make my feelings go away. I played the field and did things that normal guys my age did. I even had a girlfriend for a while and tried like hell to make it work with her. Sarah said she loved me, and I thought it would be enough.
I figured if I could force myself to stay away and be with someone else, it would make my wretched feelings change. But, in the end, I had only ended up hurting the both of us. When I had confessed that I didn't love her, but that I was in love with another, Sarah had been devastated, and I had been utterly ashamed of myself. I was such a failure, in more ways than one.
And even though I knew it was inevitable, when Scott and Kate had announced their engagement a few months ago, I had congratulated them–like any normal best friend should–and then I had taken off for a couple of weeks, just driving around and trying to rein in my overwhelming emotions.
As the happy couple kneels at the altar and takes their communion, the look of sheer joy on Scott's beautiful face as he gazes longingly at Kate is too much for me to bear, and I have to look away before I totally lose it in front of all of our family and friends.
My chest constricts as I realize that no one has ever looked at me that way–not even Sarah–and even if, by some miracle, someone does look at me like that someday far off into the future, it won't be the face I want it to be. It will never be that face.
Reverend Parker leads the congregation in a prayer for the happy couple, and as I bow my head and close my eyes, the images come unbidden to me. I can't stop them from flashing through my mind, so I finally give in and let them wash over me, consuming me.
I know full well that this is the only chance we'll ever have at being together. This is the only time I'll ever reveal my true feelings... in my head.
His sapphire eyes are shining as he lifts my hand to his full lips and presses them softly to my skin, running the pad of his thumb lovingly against my knuckles. I've wanted him ever since I'd become aware of my own body. It's always reacted whenever he's around, and today is certainly no exception.
Our mouths crash together in a passionate embrace, mine opening up to receive the offering of his tongue as it slides and swirls against my own. My fingers caress the roughness of his five o'clock shadow before moving up to thread through his gloriously soft blond hair. I pull gently on the strands, eliciting a groan from him.
I smile at the sound as our tongues continue their sensual dance together. His wandering hands roam my body, sliding down my chest and around to my ass, pulling my pelvis flush against his. We both hiss at the contact as his thick hardness presses into mine.
God, how I want this man. I've never wanted anything more in my entire twenty-three years.
He must feel the same way, because he starts grasping at the buttons of my shirt, hastily removing it as his mouth moves more urgently against mine, then down my neck, licking and nipping my overheated flesh along the way. As his teeth graze one of my nipples, I let out an involuntary gasp and grow impossibly harder.
I need more contact, more skin, more friction, just... more. He helps me yank his shirt off, and my insides clench as I take in the beauty that is his sculpted chest. It's my turn now to explore his torso, and I do so with wild abandon, letting my hands, my mouth, and my tongue show him just how much I desperately want him, how much I worship his god-like, masculine form.
Our pants are the next things to go, followed by our boxers, and then we're finally–oh, God, finally–standing bare before one another. This is the moment I've been yearning for ever since we were fifteen.
He's more beautiful beyond anything I have ever imagined, and all I can think about in that moment is that he wants me.
Me!
How in the world did I ever get so lucky?
His mouth curves up into a sexy as hell crooked grin as his hand reaches out to stroke me, and I can't help but let my eyes roll into the back of my head and moan at how good his expert touch feels. So damn good.
My fingers wrap around his smooth length, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out at how hot and hard he is. And it's all for me. Every single delectable inch.
We spend countless hours wrapped in each other, and it's the absolute best time of my entire life. Being sheathed inside him, with my arms around his hips and my mouth on his neck... it's better than my wildest, wettest dreams.
The only thing that possibly tops it is him inside of
me
, his fingers caressing and gripping my body as he pumps himself furiously into me, coming undone and calling out my name as he falls over the edge in orgasmic bliss.
We collapse to the damp sheets and tangle our limbs together, embracing one another as we try to get our ragged breathing under control. We're completely spent and totally drenched in each other's semen and sweat, and I don't think it can ever get any better than this.
But then it does.
"I love you, Ethan," he says. "I've always loved you."
And I want to cry because it's the one thing in the world I've wanted to hear since I can't even remember.
