His Girlfriend Doesn't Now

Part 1: His Girlfriend Doesn't Know He's Into Me

It's been three days since I came out. And things between me and Liam? Well, things felt... off.

Liam's always been the laid-back guy. Hot, straight, and completely oblivious to the effect he had on people. Especially me. We'd been best friends for years--roommates for the last six months. His girlfriend, Paige, was over most of the time, so it was always the three of us, hanging out.

Except now? It was different. I was different.

Ever since I came out, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Couldn't stop feeling him. It wasn't like I hadn't noticed before. Liam was built like a brick wall--tall, broad, and that jawline? Hell, it could cut glass. Paige was lucky to have him, though I wasn't sure she noticed how perfectly his T-shirts fit over his chest, or how his biceps looked when he lifted something. I sure as hell did.

But I hadn't acted on it. I couldn't. Not when he was straight.

Until recently.

Tonight, I wore booty shorts.

I never wore them around the house before. But since coming out, I've been experimenting, seeing how it feels to let myself be me, really. It's like everything changed in three days--like a switch flipped, and suddenly, I was free to be this version of myself.

And maybe, just maybe, I wore those shorts hoping Liam would notice. Because in the back of my head, I wondered if he ever had, just never said anything. Maybe my ass was just too hard for him to ignore.

I sprawled across the couch, casually scrolling through my phone, letting my legs stretch out. I'd positioned myself just the right way, giving him a perfect view. Liam was in the kitchen, doing whatever the hell he always did when Paige wasn't around. His girlfriend was out tonight, so it was just the two of us.

When he walked into the room, I could feel his gaze immediately. It was like heat, radiating toward me from where he stood. I kept my eyes on my phone, not wanting to let on that I knew. But I knew.

Liam's voice cut through the quiet. "What the hell are you wearing?"

I smirked without looking up. "Shorts. You like?"

There was a pause. A long one.

He cleared his throat, still standing in the doorway, his eyes trained on my legs. On my ass. I saw him glance at me for half a second, then look away quickly. He coughed awkwardly. "You've... been dressing a little differently since you came out."

I raised an eyebrow. "You noticed?"

He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just... I don't know. I wasn't expecting it."

I sat up slowly, shifting my legs so my shorts rode up just a little more. "What were you expecting, Liam?"

He stepped into the living room, his eyes flicking down to my legs again, before shooting up to my face. "This is... weird."

It wasn't weird. It was exciting. And the fact that Liam--straight, unbothered Liam--was so fucking flustered? That was even more exciting.

"You keep staring," I said, my voice quieter now, teasing. "Is it bothering you?"

He swallowed. I could see the muscles in his throat tighten. "I'm not staring."

"You're not staring at my ass? Really?"

Liam's face reddened. He crossed his arms, his jaw tight. "Stop being a dick, Tommy."

"I'm not the one who keeps looking, mate. I'm just here, minding my own business."

He was standing way too close to me now. His broad chest was right in front of my face, and I could smell his cologne, the faint scent of soap. He was so... there. Too close. It felt electric. Like if I breathed in too deep, I'd just fall into him.

I stood up slowly, standing inches away from him now. "So, what's the problem, Liam?"

He wouldn't meet my eyes. "There's no problem."

"Then stop looking at me like you're gonna eat me."

He blinked, his lips pressing together. "I'm not--I don't--"

But his eyes kept drifting. Down. To my thighs. To my ass. And the longer he stood there, the more I could tell. I wasn't imagining this. He was into it. Into me.

"I know you're straight, Liam," I said, my voice low. "But if you keep looking at me like that, it's gonna be hard to pretend you're not into it."

He finally snapped his gaze up to mine, eyes wide with something--shock? Guilt? Lust? I couldn't tell, but it was definitely there. And I was pretty sure it wasn't going anywhere.

"Just..." His words were low, strained. "This is a mistake, Tommy."

"Yeah?" I leaned in, my voice a whisper. "Then why the hell do you keep looking?"

He stared at me for another long second. His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to do something. But he didn't. Instead, he took a step back, running a hand through his messy hair.

I didn't want to make him too uncomfortable, but I knew he was already on edge. The tension was palpable, thick enough to choke on. And then, before I could say anything more, he glanced down at me--really looked--and let out a half-laugh.

"You've got a fatter ass than Paige," he said, shaking his head as though he couldn't believe he'd just said that. "Just saying. No homo."

And then he walked off, back to his room, leaving me standing there, feeling every inch of that comment linger in the air.

The door slammed behind him.

And I was left with a smirk, my heart racing.

I had him.