"Brent?" Jake said the next morning.

I didn't open my eyes though. I kept them closed and just grunted. 

"Why are you on top of me?" he asked. 

Everything that happened ran through my head as it all came back. The kiss, cuddling, what he said to me. I darted out of the bed, completely forgetting that I was nude until it was too late and I was already out of the bed. 

I froze and turned around, cupping my junk to cover up. 

"Well," Jake said, staring at me. "This is weird."

"Yeah, that's one way to describe it," I replied. 

"Why are we both naked?" he asked. 

That's when I realized Jake didn't remember anything. I had gotten off the hook without any consequences. Then I realized something else so I ran off to the bathroom and threw it up. 

It wasn't until I tried thinking that I realized just how hungover I was. I sat there, leaning into the toilet like it was my best friend, occasionally filling it with another load of my bile when Jake walked into the bathroom–still nude–and sat on the edge of the tub. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something before leaning over and mixing his puke with mine. 

"Note to self," he said. "Don't ever drink that much again."

I was about to say 'agreed' when I threw up again. 

* * * 

After a day of doing nothing but throwing up repeatedly and sitting with the shades drawn, we took the Chunnel into France and then headed into Paris. 

If I had to describe my initial reaction of Paris after being in London, it would be... this is it? The buildings were incredible and the architecture was a sight to behold, but it was a lot smaller than London. Jake and I paid 5€ to walk up the Eiffel Tower and it soon turned into a race, much to the chagrin of everyone else trying to walk up at their normal speeds. But once we were at the top and saw how small it was compared to London, it was a little less impressive. But we still had a lot of fun. We walked across the street from the Eiffel Tower and towards the gorgeous building and courtyard that was the Naval Academy.

We snapped dozens of pictures and Jake and I found a couple of fellow tourists to take both of our pictures with the Eiffel Tower in the background. 

Once we got to the road, we hung a right and after a couple blocks, we found this nice café. It was happy hour, but Jake and I abstained with a glance to one another and ordered coffee instead. 

"Nous voudrions deux café s'il vous plaît," Jake said to the young ferret who smiled and nodded. 

"This is a nice place," I said, smiling at the road where people walked. It was a quiet place and I felt pretty damn lucky, both to be alive and to have the chance to do something incredible like we were. 

When we got our coffees, the ferret had slipped his number under Jake's cup. In the back of my mind, past the jealous part of me, I wondered why Jake was getting hit on all the time. And all I had to do was look at his handsome face and striking eyes to realize. He was absolutely gorgeous.

And then there was me...

"Gonna call him?" I asked, cause it's what the old me would have done. 

"I don't know. Depends on if he has a human sister for you," he said.

I had to refrain from doing a spit take when he said that. "You're an ass," I laughed, hoping it didn't sound forced. 

"You say that so much it's lost all meaning. Besides, you're just jealous that my ass is actually getting attention."

Boy did he hit the nail on the head there. 

* * *

We rented a small apartment on the west of Paris to stay for the few weeks we'd be there. It was a small flat, cramped by American standards, but I knew that at the price we got for it, it was a great deal. There was a small entry hallway where you could take off your shoes, hang up your coats and go to the main area. The bathroom was just before the main room to the left. In the main room there was a kitchenette to the left and a tv on the wall. And, as if in some kind of divine plan to force Jake and I together, there was a single bed once again.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" Jake asked me.

"What?"

"Sharing the beds. You're totally after me, aren't you?"

My ears went flat against my head. 

"N-no. What are you even talking about?" 

"You act funny every time a cute guy hits on me or gives me their number, always trying to pretend like you're not watching me when I'm changing, we're always sharing a bed... Look, if there's something going on, you can just tell me, Brent."

I should have just told him. I should have come clean there, and told him that I was doubting my sexuality and wanted him more than anything else in the world. But instead, I was a total asshole. 

"Look, Jake, maybe you think that there's some kind of crazy conspiracy, but I'm not trying to hit on you or anything. I'm not into you. I'm straight! Or did you forget my affinity towards 'human chicks' and 'crazies' which you seem to think is my type. And I'm sorry that it's always one bed, but I'm trying to save money, in case we get into an emergency or something. It's called responsibility. Maybe if you weren't such a baby, you'd have heard of it. But no, it's okay, Jakey Wakey, the world is all about you and I'm into you too. See a doctor and sort out your issues." 

I've never regretted saying anything else in my life. I've never hated myself for what I said more than I did right there. And it was something I wanted to take back immediately, even as I was saying them, I wanted to stop. But I didn't. I kept going, kept firing off attack after attack towards him, with the last one being the lowest blow possible. 

Jake could have said anything to me. He could have stormed out, cussed me out, got mad at me and tell me off, or beat me up... But no, instead he just laid down on the bed and curled up. He turned off the light and started crying. I tried saying something, but whenever I opened my mouth, nothing came out. I felt my heart ache with sorrow and regret at what I had done to my best friend. I hurt him more than anyone else had ever hurt him before, save Douchey McGee. 

I went to the hallway and slept out there, not desiring to be anywhere near him. 

* * * 

That night, I was coming down from the best orgasm I'd ever had in my entire life at the thought of Jake. And I finally knew. It was like an epiphany. I love him. I was in love with him. I was physically attracted to him. I wanted to be his boyfriend and be his everything. I was in love with Jake Carter.

And I might've destroyed all chances of us being friends, let alone anything else, ever again.