Just a Bit Confusing

I’ll be at the house. The weather’s still good. Grab your trunks. We can hang out at the pool.
The house Ryan was referring to was his family home, or rather, Ryan’s eldest brother’s house. Ryan had moved out of there a few years ago and acquired a place of his own, but since Ryan’s workplace was close to Zach’s house, he lived half of the time at Zach’s for convenience’s sake. James didn’t mind hanging out there—he’d been there hundreds of times over the years and he liked Zach.
Or you can borrow mine, Ryan sent before he could reply.
You’re gross, James responded.
You love me, Ryan sent back.
James closed his eyes as the familiar bittersweet feeling filled his chest.
“I love you,” he whispered, because sometimes the urge to say it became too much. Sometimes he needed to say it, even if there was no one to hear him.
Even if there was no one to say it back.

Ryan started thinking that he had fallen asleep when Jamie mumbled quietly, “Do you ever wonder if there are alternate universes? Lives where things are a little bit different? It makes me feel better to think that maybe in another life…” His voice got strained and he trailed off.
Before long, he was asleep.
Ryan lifted him carefully and carried him to his bedroom. Jamie didn’t wake up even when he tucked him into his bed. Ryan sat next to him, leaning back against the headboard.
His forehead creased, he watched Jamie sleep as the nagging feeling in his gut became stronger and stronger.

“Ryan—”
“No.” Ryan nuzzled his cheek, and when he spoke, there was nothing but raw honesty in his voice. “You do know I love you, right?”
James stared in front of him, unseeing. God, didn’t Ryan realize how much worse his words made him feel? It was like seeing a tantalizing glimpse of what-could-have-been if things had been just a little different if only Ryan had been even a little bi-curious. He knew Ryan was as attached to him as he was to Ryan. The only difference between them was their sexuality: while his attachment had shifted into a sexual, romantic one, Ryan’s remained platonic and brotherly—but it didn’t mean it was weaker or less.

⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱*So lost. So damn lost*⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱

He was the reason Jamie was miserable, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Jamie would continue to be miserable—until he finally got tired and left.
The truth of it sliced through him, and Ryan’s arms tightened around Jamie. Something churned in his gut, a primal fear the likes of which he’d never felt before. He tried to suppress the insane urge to grab Jamie and lock him up somewhere safe. Somewhere only he had access to.
Yeah. Right. That wasn’t creepy at all.

“Being in love is pretty fucking great, actually. You deserve to find your Hannah.”
Jamie wondered if it would actually hurt more if Ryan stuck a knife in his gut and twisted it slowly. He thought he smiled. He hoped he was smiling. His face hurt, so he must be.
He said, “Sure I will. Later, mate.” He was surprised by how absolutely normal his voice sounded.
He smiled again and turned away.
He walked to his car.
He got in.
He closed the door.
He put his hands on the steering wheel.
His throat worked as he tried to swallow the painful lump in his throat. He couldn’t. A terrible, choked sound came from his throat. His chest began to heave. He pressed his hands to his eyes and breathed in, breathed out.

⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱*Unsure...*⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱

Jamie looked…He looked as if he’d just been snogged thoroughly: his pupils blown, pale cheeks flushed, and lips parted. The longing, hungry look he gave Ryan was downright shameless and obscene—the kind of look that belonged on a whore’s face before she spread her legs.

His back to Ryan, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath in—
And he let go.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Tearing away all the illogical hopes and dreams of Ryan loving him back was so damn painful and difficult. But he did it. His throat hurt, his chest hurt—everything hurt—his eyes stinging with tears he would never shed. But when he opened his eyes, Jamie’s— James’s—face was calm and collected. James. He was James. Jamie had been the foolish boy who’d fallen in love with someone he could never have. Jamie was in the past.
He was James William Arthur Grayson and it was time to move on.

↬ Exhibit A: No time for a BJ? Let’s fuck for the first time because thas so much faster.

Just a Bit Anticlimactic, I must say, especially having already read Book 4. I mean, sure, the way the unrequited love trope was brought to life – and between best friends, at that – was original and noteworthy. I liked how Hazard went with the direction of the story – from the buildup, to the many confrontations, realizations, and finally the big fallout. It was just the right push and pull that made Jamie and Ryan’s story not overly dramatic but not bland, as well.

Factor in Ryan’s effed-up way of thinking that provided more flavor to the book’s theme. It contributed to a more adrenaline-induced and exciting storyline, even though this was not the action-packed installment (Hello Book 6! I’m patiently waiting for you, by the way). Ryan’s behavior just screamed of danger, which did things to my overactive imagination.

But see, in all of the previous installments in this series, Hazard has that signature erotica that you only get from the not-so-vanilla books. Forbidden. Unusual. F*cked-up. Crossing the fine line of being taboo, but not really. So, the sex was always mind-blowing. And this book lacked that. The intimate scenes were more subdued. Tamed. Mellow.

I guess I was expecting a level-up from Book 4 (which still holds the title of 'Best Book' in the series, after having read this), and I was disappointed. Hence, anticlimactic. A good read, nonetheless.

""Everyone’s straight until they’re not,”"

""It’s wrong and weird only for as long as you let it be.""

"“I love you, silly. That’s never been a question for me. You’re my everything. I want everything from you. I want to give you everything; I always have. I just couldn’t before.”"

He didn’t know what sort of person he would be without Ryan. It was fucked up, but it was the truth. This love, no matter how hopeless and painful it was, had been a part of him for so long. It was a part of what made him James Grayson. Jamie didn’t know who he would be without it.

Jamie’s lips trembled against his before laughter erupted from his chest, unburdened and happy. Grinning, Ryan wrapped him in his arms and held onto him—his best friend, his lover, his other half, his happiness. Labels didn’t matter if they all meant the same thing:
Jamie.

Tristan gave them a pinched look. “Stop. Just stop.”
“Don’t pretend to be offended,” Ryan said, smirking. “I’ve heard Zach call you dollface many times, which is way worse.”
The look Tristan gave him was very sweet and very poisonous. “You’re not Zach. Only he can get away with calling me ridiculous things.”