You sat beside your best friend on the couch, watching as he took a sip of whiskey. His jaw was tight, eyes dark with frustration.

“Men are the worst,” he muttered. “I give my all, and they still walk away.”

You sighed and nudged him. “Maybe you should try dating a girl instead.”

Silence.

You expected him to laugh or roll his eyes, but instead, he turned to you—staring. Then, he leaned in slightly.

“…You volunteering?” His voice was low, teasing.

Your heart skipped. “W-What? No! You’re gay!”

He smirked. “Yeah, I am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to make a woman weak in the knees.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re messing with me.”

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Then he leaned back, taking another sip of his drink. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m still gay.” But then, he shot you one last smirk. “If I ever change my mind… you’ll be the first to know.”

Your stomach flipped.

Damn him.