Finding the Line - 1. Chapter 1

There he goes again, Ryan thought as he glanced up from the textbook. He'd been sitting in the library during his study hall period—a period he happened to share with the gorgeous, hot hockey player, Brady Rawlins—attempting to review for his test next period, but he was failing miserably.

Every time he looked up he caught Brady's golden-hazel eyes flicking away from him back to whatever his friend and teammate, Jake, was pointing at on the papers in front of them. Ryan felt his chest ache. Ever since last week's hockey game, Brady had been distant, finding excuses not to be around him anymore.

Ryan thought maybe some of his teammates were finally starting to give Brady a hard time for befriending 'the fag', even though Jake still talked to him, and he hadn't heard any new litany of slurs directed his way. Ryan had never denied his sexuality, but he'd never been blatant about it either. For the most part, this school had been pretty cool about it, having a zero tolerance for any kind of bullying.

There had only been a few guys when he'd first started the semester that had tried to rile him; however, when they'd failed to provoke him, they'd eventually lost interest.

So when Brady had shocked him by asking Ryan if he wanted to study together for their Spanish test during one study hall, Ryan hadn't said no. They'd spent the next several study periods together, and Ryan couldn't help feeling drawn to the senior.

God, it was so stupid to crush on the popular jock.

For those few weeks, it was nice just to sit close to the other teen; sometimes their thighs would touch as they leaned in to search for an answer together in the same textbook. Brady had taken to playfully punching his shoulder if he got an answer wrong or patting his back encouragingly for right answers. Once or twice Jake had joined them, and Brady would distance himself again.

It seemed, in their hidden little corner of the library, that Brady relaxed around him. Ryan had moments—glimpses—of the real Brady. A few times he'd have sworn Brady was attracted to him—a look or a lingering touch—setting Ryan's gut on fire.

The feeling was gone the moment they left the library.

Until that one day. Three weeks ago.

****

Ryan had been heading home, cutting through the park as he usually did, only to hear footsteps behind him on the path. He hadn't looked back, afraid to show fear, but the steps didn't get closer or farther away—they matched his.

His heart had been pounding as he veered off the path, heading towards the swings, hoping he didn't hear a second set of footsteps in the mulch.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Fuck. He attempted to settle his mind. He knew how to fight. His foster dad had taught him to protect himself. Not that he hadn't been able to defend himself before—he had to when he'd been on the streets—but a few new moves didn't hurt.

He swung around, already in a defensive stance, when he stopped abruptly.

"Brady?"

"Uh, hey, Ryan."

"What are you doing here? You usually drive home in that fancy car of yours," Ryan laughed awkwardly. Being this close to Brady outside of school had him on edge, because here there was nothing to stop him from touching Brady like he so desperately wanted. To tell the other teen what he made Ryan feel. Of course, that could never happen.

Ryan may be gay, but Brady wasn't, not by the way he and Jake talked about all the girls they'd dated. And Ryan knew he could never act on his feelings or he'd lose Brady as a friend forever.

Yet, Ryan could tell something was wrong. Brady was sweating, rubbing his hands anxiously on his jeans.

"Are you okay? You look... upset or something?" Ryan asked.

"Can, uh, we talk?" Brady coughed out. "Maybe, like, over there?"

He pointed to the wooded area behind the picnic pavilion, and Ryan had a pang of disappointment that Brady didn't want to be seen with him outside of school.

"Yeah, uh, sure." Ryan shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans as he led the way through the nearly empty park. There were only a couple of moms with their toddlers over in the youngster play area. No one from their school was here, so Ryan didn't understand why Brady needed to hide.

As soon as they were suitably out of sight a few meters into the thick trees, Ryan turned, sighing. "So what did you want to talk about?"

Brady's eyes darted around them before he stepped closer. "I... I just need... to know..."

"Know what?" Ryan prompted, frustrated.

Suddenly, Brady's lips were on his, testing, tentative. Ryan jerked back, stunned that Brady—hockey-playing, popular jock, ladies' man—Rawlings was kissing him.

"Fuck. I'm sorry... I thought—" Brady had turned a bright shade of red, and he was quickly backing away.

Oh, damn! Ryan broke out of his shock, realizing that Brady thought he was upset with being kissed. He reached out and grabbed Brady by his letterman jacket, yanking him closer.

Ryan took control, now that Brady had opened the door to him, melding their lips together. He licked along the seam of Brady's lips, teasing them, and diving in when Brady gasped in surprise.

Ryan's tongue thrust against Brady's, exploring, memorizing this moment. He felt Brady's moan reverberate through his body, and Ryan grinned against Brady's lips. He slowly ended the kiss with a small nip on Brady's lower lip.

"Was that what you needed to know?" Ryan whispered.

Brady's hazel eyes were glazed as he blinked down at Ryan. "Uh, yeah," he said breathlessly.

"And?"

Brady was staring down at him, a mixture of confusion, apprehension, and lust warring in those expressive eyes.

"I—"

"Young man! Get back over here!"

Both of them jumped at the sound of a woman's yell and the subsequent giggle of a young boy finding it funny to run away from his mother.

When Ryan looked back at Brady, panic had taken over. Brady backed away from him in two quick steps, and Ryan could tell Brady was confused about what had happened, what he'd done, what they had done—and what to do next.

"Brady—"

"I gotta go," Brady cut him off, his eyes wide and darting everywhere but at Ryan. "I'll, uh, see you tomorrow."

"Brady, wait!" Ryan called, but Brady had already taken off running back towards the school, presumably to his car.

"Fuck." Ryan ran his hand through his hair as he stared after the fleeing teen. "What the fuck just happened?" he asked himself. When he lowered his hand, he realized it was shaking; adrenaline coursing through his veins had him on edge.

****

That had been three weeks ago, and each day for two weeks after that had followed a similar pattern, much to Ryan's surprise and delight. Ryan had begun his walk home, only to find Brady waiting for him at the park. He noticed Brady had started driving to the playground, parking, and waiting for Ryan to pass by. Once Ryan saw him, he'd detour to their 'spot' in the woods. Most of the time Brady joined him fairly quickly, but once or twice Ryan had waited almost ten minutes before Brady made his way around the pavilion—apparently, there had been someone he recognized.

Each time Brady would ask if he could kiss Ryan, and Ryan thought his hesitation and nervousness was adorable. Ryan let Brady take his time, to explore, to taste, knowing the other teen was obviously still coming to grips with being intimate with another boy. Most days it was nothing more than a few passionate moments stolen in the park before Brady had to rush back to hockey practice. Yet, the fact that Brady had made the effort—took the risk—to meet him, had Ryan starving for Brady's affection each day.

On the last couple of days, the day before the hockey game, Brady had taken to slipping his hand down Ryan's chest, resting it on the slim hip, even toying with the hem of his shirt to brush his fingers over bare skin. It was in that moment, Ryan really began to feel hope—hope that Brady was beginning to feel more for him than just as a test subject for his sexuality.

And then the afternoon of the hockey game changed everything again.

Ryan had been there, cheering Brady on, even though he didn't know that much about hockey. Basketball was more his sport, even if he was a little short. Then after the game, he'd waited with so many others for the players to come out. He'd thought maybe he could see if he could ask Brady to go get pizza or something.

That would have been all right, wouldn't it? Taking a fellow student out to celebrate a victory? Maybe even Jake would come along, make it less odd for Brady, knowing how edgy he was about anyone seeing them together.

He'd seen Jake first and had given him a high-five, congratulating him on the win. Then Jake had wrapped his arm around Ryan's, thanking him as he turned and grabbed Brady under his other arm.

Ryan had felt his pulse spike as Brady caught his gaze. He'd barely heard Jake going on about how Brady was the best goalie ever. All he could do was agree: "He definitely is." His eyes met Brady's. "Congrats."

Then of all things, he'd stuck his hand out like they were just passing acquaintances. It felt wrong, but Ryan didn't know how else to touch Brady without possibly upsetting him. But Brady had stepped away from Jake and yanked him into a brief hug.

Fuck, yes! Ryan had nearly crowed out loud when he was pulled into Brady's broad chest. Brady's big hand slid over Ryan's shoulders. Brady smiled, whispering a soft "Thanks, Ryan," before patting him on the back in his manly, guy-hug.

Ryan was floating, grinning, when he stepped back. His elated mood faltered when he noticed the frown on Brady's forehead as he glanced over Ryan's shoulder.

Abruptly, Brady turned almost cold, patting Ryan on the shoulder as he distanced himself and turned his focus on Jake. He didn't even look at Ryan when he said his good-byes.

Ryan stood stunned, unsure of what had just happened, yet he managed to call out, "Bye, Brady. I'll catch you later?" He couldn't help the hopeful lilt to his voice as he caught Brady's bicep, squeezing it gently.

But Brady didn't meet his eyes, turning quickly as he just mumbled a vague, "Uh, yeah, see ya."

Ryan's mouth hung open, stung by the casual brush-off Brady had given him. Admittedly, Ryan hadn't expected him to come out, kiss him, and announce to the world that he was in love, but he hadn't even acknowledged that Ryan was more than just a fan standing outside waiting to congratulate him. Hell, people knew they'd been studying together. Would it have killed Brady to admit to being friends with him outside of study hall?

Since that moment, Brady had all but ignored him.

And it fucking hurt.

He had begun to really like Brady, to feel something for the guy. He'd let Brady use him—and, yes, that's what Ryan now thought had happened. Brady had used him, the 'fag', to test out his sexuality. The bastard had played with his emotions, his heart; then Brady had run screaming back into the closet.

Apparently, now Brady couldn't even be seen with Ryan in study hall. Ryan tried to ignore Jake and Brady on the other side of the library, but it was near impossible. And catching Brady looking at him only had his blood boiling even more.

He slammed his textbook closed, earning himself a stern glare from the librarian as he shoved it in his backpack. He needed to find somewhere else to study.

Ryan had made it out of the side door, heading towards the front lawn, where he figured he could get some air at least, when his name was called.

"Ryan! Wait!"

He kept going, his hands clenching into fists. He had nothing to say to Brady. And if Brady had had anything to say to him, he'd had all fucking week to do it.

A hand grabbed his elbow, pulling him around. Ryan didn't even think, he swung. The anger and hurt he'd been carrying around all week exploded against Brady's jaw.

"Fuck!" Brady reeled from the impact, grabbing his chin.

Ryan shook out his hand. Damn that had hurt! But it had felt good too. He was sure he wouldn't have been able to hit the huge jock like that if he hadn't blindsided him, he'd take whatever he could get, though.

"Ryan, what the hell?!" Jake snapped from behind Brady, quickly grabbing his buddy's shoulders to check on him.

Brady straightened, still rubbing his tender jaw, those golden eyes radiating his emotional pain.

"You're a bastard, Rawlings!" Ryan snapped, ignoring Jake staring at him agape. "Get the hell away from me!"

Brady's face fell, obviously he hadn't been expecting such a venomous response from Ryan. Strangely, Brady hadn't looked around to see who might be watching them.

"Ryan, please, just let me—"

"Fuck you, Brady. You need to figure out what the hell your priorities are. I thought we were friends. What? Did one of your buddies harass you for studying with the fag? Or did you just decide to fuck with me? Screw with my head, making me think we could be friends."

Brady winced.

"Ryan..." Brady looked distressed, fatigued and worn. "I'm sorry. Please, just give me a little—"

"Too fucking late." Ryan turned on his heel, tears biting at the corners of his eyes. He stalked away, not caring about the few students who'd witnessed his meltdown. He wouldn't let them see anything other than his anger.

"Brady, what the hell is going on?" Ryan heard Jake asking.

"Fuck..." Brady's voice sounded so tortured, so wracked with pain, that Ryan did turn his head just enough to see that Brady was doubled over, his hands on his knees as if he couldn't breathe.

Ryan clenched his jaw, steeling himself against Brady's agony. He couldn't let it affect him. He needed to be immune to the damn jock he'd let into his heart.

His fury was roaring in his ears, he couldn't even hear the questions being thrown around him by other students.

Ryan gasped as someone grabbed his backpack and yanked. An arrow of fear shot through him that someone was taking it upon themselves to defend the honor of the school's star hockey player.

He was spun around, his shoulders grabbed.

Then lips ground against his, hot and fiery, pleading and begging. Ryan stiffened, shocked as his breath was stolen away. Large hands cupped his face as the barrage on his mouth ended. Brady dropped his forehead to Ryan's, breathing heavily. Ryan tried to focus, his mind fogged by his churning emotions and lack of oxygen.

"Ryan..." Brady whispered against his lips, causing Ryan to shiver.

Distantly, Ryan knew he was angry with Brady, but the assault on his senses left him reeling.

"Please... forgive me," Brady begged. "I'm an asshole, I know that. I—I just don't know... how to do this..."

Ryan felt the wall he'd built around his heart in the last couple of days crack back open, which sucked considering how hard Brady had already stomped on his heart.

"Please, Ryan... help me."

Ryan choked at the miserably broken entreaty. He found his own hand rising to Brady's tender jaw, as he nodded against the other teen's forehead.

"Yes."