Prologue
Present Day
River
It’s just a fact—the bigger the dick, the bigger the dick.
Which sucks, and not in a good way. Is it fair that the guys who are packing are also lacking—oh, you know—common courtesy? No.
The Big Dick Law is one of the sadder items on My List of Ignore at Your Peril Life Lessons. Some of the others?
Texting an ex is always a bad idea.
So is just one more shot. Anything that seems like a good plan when you’re drunk . . . isn’t. As a bartender, I can refuse to serve you that last drink, but you’re on your own if you forget Lesson #1.
Life is too short to take yourself too seriously.
Whatever the problem, a blow job is often the answer.
Trusted friends are priceless. Men come and go, but your friends will stick with you when the big dicks don’t.
But I’m not bitter about those guys. Anyone who walks out of my life is gone for a reason.
Besides, it’s not as if I’m always the walk-ee.
Please.
This man is not afraid to walk away. I’m not clingy, I don’t hang on too long, and I sure as hell know when to say see you later, and don’t let the door hit you on the way out. There’s no need to give your heart, time, or skills to just anyone.
If a man wants what I have going on, he damn well better deserve what I bring to the table.
And the bedroom.
And the shower.
But I suppose at the ripe young age of twenty-nine I wouldn’t mind finally meeting Mister Right.
I’m just a good guy ready for another good guy.
Someone fun, smart, open-minded, and loyal.
Ideally, he’d also be outdoorsy, adventuresome (yes, that kind, but also all kinds), and love dogs.
That’s not too much to ask for.
I only have one deal-breaker—he can’t be a friend.
My friends mean everything to me. They’ve been by my side through the best and the worst, and I’ve been by theirs. My friends are my family, and that’s why I won’t break that commandment—no matter how great the temptation.
Temptation in the form of a long-time pal with the hot nerd glasses and full lips, the wicked sense of humor and the sarcasm for days.
But this is the Unbreakable Rule, truer even than the Big Dick Law.
Friends don’t bang friends.
I’ve stuck to this rule for eight years when it comes to my best bud from college. After this long, one road trip isn’t going to break me.
And that’s a fact.
Prologue
Eight Years Ago
Owen
Sex has a way of clouding your judgement. Talking about it, thinking about it, having lots of it—sex is awesome but should come with a warning label.
Sex is hazardous to your brain and may cause stupid decisions and prolonged regret.
It was a Sunday morning and I was brimming with sex-fueled bravado built up over the past few weeks—because I was finally having it. This was college. Sex was a required class and my favorite subject.
Years of virginity will make a guy a very dedicated student, and Jack, a fellow junior, was hitting the books with me every damn night.
After a particularly late and boisterous study session in Jack’s dorm, I was the good kind of tired in the morning, but I had to study for a psych exam and needed to fuel up on caffeine in the worst way.
I knocked on my friend River’s door. “Rise and shine,” I said when he answered. “Freud waits for no one. But he will have to wait on coffee. I need a jug of it, stat.”
“A barrel for me, please,” he said, bleary-eyed as he closed the door behind him and we headed to the library to study, first ducking into a coffee shop called Old School to get our fix.
As we waited for our joe, a TV mounted on the shop’s wall played classic rom-coms. Billy Crystal had just told Meg Ryan that men and women can’t be friends because the sex part will always get in the way.
River was a fellow psych major. We could debate anything and both lived to dissect human nature. I nodded to the screen and said, “I disagree on principle. What about you?”
He wiggled a brow and collected his coffee when they called his name. “That’s not a problem for me. I have lots of female friends.”
I grabbed mine and followed him to the cream and sugar. “You know what I mean. When Harry Met Rod. When Johnson Met Peter. When Dick met Richard.”
River doctored his coffee with sugar. “When can I watch those flicks? They sound like my speed.”
“Online, anytime, for a subscription of just $11.95 a month,” I said.
He cracked up, and I grinned. I enjoyed making him laugh—a lot—but I really wanted to dive into the question of whether men and men can be friends. I wanted to swim around in those waters with River more than I’d thought I would. I swallowed some coffee, then tried again. “So, was Harry right? Does sex get in the way?”
“In my test group of one, I’d say yes,” he said as we left the shop. “Sex absolutely got in the way of friendship for Ansel and me.”
River lifted his chin a bit defiantly, a sign the Ansel effect was still wreaking havoc. He’d split with his first serious boyfriend a few months ago, a guy he’d been close friends with first.
It was hard to argue with firsthand breakup experience, but I wasn’t sure it was the only answer.
“Do you think sex will always get in the way of friendship? I have plenty of gay friends, and I’m not suffering from I-want-to-nail-everyone-itis like Harry was.”
River knocked back some coffee, his brow knitting. “Same. Obviously. And I’m all for queer friendships. But if you’re going to step past friendship, you have to be ready to face any consequences. Call it the Harry and Sally ‘Sex Trumps Friendship’ Theory. Sex has a way of overshadowing everything. So, if you let it get in the way, then don’t be shocked if it kills the friendship.”
“But what if you don’t let it get in the way?” I asked. “Maybe Ansel was the exception, rather than the rule.”
River gestured broadly, coffee sloshing out of his cup. “Is that possible, though? Ansel and I were so sure we were going to stay friends. We discussed it ad nauseam before we even made out. Then, when things ran their course, he pulled a switcher. Oh, I can’t be friends with an ex. Sorry, not sorry.” An annoyed sigh escaped River’s lips. “Do you think you and Jack will just snap back to friendship once you stop messing around?”
I shrugged, full of postcoital bravado. “Sure. Why not? Plenty of men and women go back to being friends after a sex fling.”
Although, I didn’t want to think of sex with Jack ending—mostly because I liked getting laid.
I liked it a lot.
River flicked his dark blond hair from his forehead. “More power to you if you can return to La La FriendshipLandia. But that didn’t happen to me, and that was the worst part. The heartbreak wasn’t; it was losing a friend. I won’t ever risk that again.”
Hmmm. I could dissect this even further, break it down into principles of a theory. “It sounds like Ansel either believed, or pretended to believe, sex wouldn’t get in the way of the friendship, but then it turned out he was a full-on Gay Harry?”