cheater; tradley

eleven

Cheater ((11))

Bradley's lips are soft.

This is the only thought on Tristan's mind as his and Brad's lips move in sync, so new and weird and crazy and exciting to him all at the same time.

He, for some unknown – but maybe not so unknown – reason, hadn't pulled away, but instead tangled his fingers in Bradley's curly hair, his other hand gripping the back of the twenty-year-olds neck.

Tristan thought it would feel weird, kissing a boy. He thought for sure that he was straight; but ever since he met Brad, he's been questioning it, no matter how much he hates that fact. On multiple occasions, he had imagined kissing Bradley, despite how difficult it was for him to admit it, but he had always thought it would be abnormal, just because he's straight.

He was wrong.

This kiss, this thing happening, it feels so far from abnormal. It feels right, like this was supposed to happen, like he didn't know what he was missing until this kiss that Bradley had sprung upon him. And no matter how stupid and cliche and whatever it sounds, it's Tristan's truth. His mind, during their conversation – in fact, during any of their conversations – had been shouting shut up at his heart and whole self. But as soon as Brad stepped so close and pressed his lips on Tristan's, his mind had taken its own advice and shut up, drawing a blank.

The twenty-one-year-old's stomach has become a gymnast, apparently. It does a few twists and turns, back flipping multiple times. And his heart feels fuzzy in his chest, hammering against his rib cage, making his whole body warm and tingly. It's a completely new feeling; something he's never experienced. Not in his middle school years, playing spin the bottle and being forced to lip-lock for three seconds; not with his first girlfriend, who said she loved him but dumped him a week later; not with Jules, in all the years they've been together. This is new. Exciting new. Perfect new.

Bradley, because of his height, has to stand on his tiptoes, and Tristan finds that so extremely adorable. The cool wind whips at their faces, the loud noise from the club now suddenly so distant, and it's like nothing in the whole entire world matters. Just Tristan, just Bradley, and just the way they're connecting.

Bradley's mind, unlike Tristan's completely blank one, is filling with thoughts. Every single one is of Tristan, his beautiful best friend and band member. From the moment he met the blonde, he could imagine this moment. Most times, it was more romantic than being drunk at a club, both of their significant others inside. Like maybe a candlelit dinner, or a walk on that same beach they had had their first Brad & Tris outing. But either way, it's happening, and it's amazingly perfect.

Finally, Tristan's brain starts partially functioning, and flashes fill his mind. Some appear of the first time they met, when Bradley called him cute, the beach trip, the diner-field trip, everything. Everything they've experienced together over just more than two months.

The best two months of his life, he'd say.

Tristan can feel Bradley's heart beating faster than usual against his own chest, and it sends a giddy feeling throughout his body.

A minute or five later, Tristan is the one who pulls away.

"Brad," he breathes, putting space between the two of them. "Bradley."

"Hmm," Bradley hums, trying to catch his breath.

Now that Tristan has his space, he can think straight; but not fully. "We can't."

This looks like it stung. "Why not?"

"I'm straight, Brad." He doesn't know whether he's trying to convince the curly haired boy or himself.