Chapter 91 The Confession
Alex: POV
When the game ended and people dispersed back to their tables, I saw Daniel standing alone. This was my chance. I grabbed his arm and pulled him to a quiet corner of the reception
"Look, I was an asshole the other night," I said, keeping my voice low. "What I said about you and women... that was way out of line."
Daniel crossed his arms, his face unreadable. "Yeah, it was."
"I was drunk and frustrated," I continued. "But that's no excuse. You've been my friend since college, man. I miss hanging out with you."
Daniel studied me for a long moment, then sighed. "Fine. But you owe me a new shirt."
I grinned, relief washing over me. "Deal. So we're good?"
Instead of answering, Daniel reached into his pocket and pulled out a room key card. He held it out to me. "Meet me at the Ritz-Carlton, room 718, after the reception. We need to talk."
I took the card, confused but hopeful. "Sure, yeah. Is everything okay?"
"Just be there," he said cryptically, then walked away to rejoin the party.
I stared after him, turning the key card over in my fingers. Whatever Daniel wanted to discuss must be serious if he'd booked a hotel room for it.
Maybe he was planning to leave San Francisco? Or maybe he had some big news about his restaurant?
The reception wound down around midnight. I watched as Blake and Olivia said their goodbyes, his hand never leaving the small of her back, her face glowing with happiness. They really did look perfect together.
"You heading out?" Blake asked, clapping me on the shoulder as they passed.
"Yeah, got an early meeting," I lied, not wanting to explain the whole Daniel situation.
Blake nodded, then leaned in closer. "Thanks for coming, man. It meant a lot to have you here."
"Wouldn't have missed it," I replied honestly. "You got lucky with this one, Westwood. Don't screw it up."
Blake laughed. "Trust me, I know."
After they left, I lingered just long enough to be polite, then slipped away.
The drive to the Ritz-Carlton was quick, the streets of San Francisco nearly empty at this hour. I parked in the hotel garage and took the elevator up to the seventh floor, the key card burning a hole in my pocket.
Room 718 was at the end of the hallway. I hesitated outside the door, suddenly nervous. What if this was some elaborate prank? Or worse, what if Daniel was about to tell me he never wanted to see me again?
"Fuck it," I muttered, sliding the key card into the door. The lock clicked open, and I pushed my way inside.
The room was dimly lit, with just a single lamp casting a warm glow over the king-sized bed. Steam billowed from the partially open bathroom door, accompanied by the sound of running water.
"Daniel?" I called out, letting the door close behind me.
"Be right out," his voice echoed from the bathroom. "Make yourself comfortable."
I shrugged off my suit jacket and loosened my tie, dropping onto one of the plush armchairs. Whatever this was about, at least the setting was nice. The Ritz didn't skimp on luxury.
The bathroom door opened fully, releasing a cloud of steam. And then Daniel stepped out, wearing nothing but a white hotel towel wrapped low around his hips.
Water droplets clung to his broad shoulders and chest, trailing down over defined abs. His legs were muscular and strong, the calves especially well-developed from standing all day.
Looking at his clearly defined muscle lines, I couldn't help wondering when Daniel even found time to work out. I kept my distance but couldn't hide my admiration.
"You spend all day in the restaurant—when do you even find time to hit the gym and build muscles like that?" I teased.
Before I could react, Daniel stepped closer and took my hand, guiding it to his chest.
"When I want something," he said, his voice low, "I make it happen."
"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice suddenly hoarse.
"Nothing," he murmured, continuing to guide my hand lower.
He actually directed my hand downward until my fingers brushed against the hardness beneath his towel.
I yanked my hand back like I'd been burned, stumbling backward. "What the fuck, Daniel?"
His eyes were dark, challenging. "You still don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?" I demanded, my heart hammering in my chest. "That you're coming onto me? Yeah, I got that loud and clear."
"I don't want to be your friend, Alex," Daniel said quietly. "I never did."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "What are you talking about? We've been friends for years."
"And I've been in love with you for years," he countered, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes. "Every day, watching you chase after women who don't appreciate you, listening to you talk about your conquests, pretending to be happy for you... it's been torture."
I shook my head, struggling to process his words. "You're gay? Since when?"
"Since always," Daniel said with a bitter laugh. "You really never noticed? Everyone else did."
My mind raced back through our friendship, searching for signs I might have missed. The way Daniel always seemed to be there when I needed him. How he'd never had a serious girlfriend, despite brief relationships with women. The look on his face whenever I talked about my dates.
"But... those women," I stammered. "You dated them. Victoria's friends, the bartender at Moonlight Lounge..."
"Do you want to know why those women became my girlfriends?" Daniel asked, taking another step toward me. "Think about it, Alex. What did they all have in common?"
A cold realization washed over me. "They were all women I was interested in first."
Daniel nodded. "I couldn't stand the thought of you with them. So I made sure you couldn't have them. But I never actually dated those women. I just made it look that way."
"That's fucked up," I said, anger flaring. "You deliberately sabotaged my relationships?"
"And you were too blind to see why!" Daniel shot back. "You accused me of stealing women from you to prove I could, but the truth is, I couldn't bear to watch you with anyone else."
He moved closer, his scent—a mixture of hotel soap and that familiar spice that was uniquely Daniel—enveloping me. "I've wanted you from the moment we met, Alex. And sometimes, the way you look at me... I think maybe you want me too."
"I'm straight," I protested, backing away until I hit the wall. "I like women."
"Do you?" Daniel challenged, closing the distance between us. "Or is that just what you've always told yourself? Even if you don't like men, you could try to like me."
He was so close now that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. Water still glistened on his skin, and I couldn't stop my eyes from tracing the droplets as they traveled down his chest.
"That's not—" I stuttered.
Daniel reached up, his fingers grazing my jaw. "Just once," he murmured. "Let yourself feel it. Let yourself admit what you want."
His lips were inches from mine, his breath warm against my face.
I got flustered and pushed him harder than I meant to, causing him to stumble backward. "I'm straight," I repeated firmly, my voice shaking slightly. "I'm not attracted to men. I'm not attracted to you."
The hurt that flashed across Daniel's face made my stomach twist with guilt. He stumbled backward, the rejection hitting him visibly hard.
I held myself back from stepping forward; I needed to escape this chaotic atmosphere, so I bolted out the door.
My own friend had feelings for me. What the hell did I do in my past life to deserve this?