International Firewalk Day

The banked coals glowed a devilish red in the night, the ghost of their heat wavering above them.

"No. way. in. hell," Holden said. He was on vacation; the last thing he needed was third degree burns.

Nate laughed. "Come on. I've done it."

Holden wanted to say, "Pics or it didn't happen," but he'd already seen the pics.

No one in their right mind would do this. But then, no one had ever accused Nate of being in his right mind.

"Do it, and I'll do your dishes for a week," Nate said.

"Unless you're offering to blow me every night for a week, nothing is getting me on those coals."

"Deal. You're on."

Holden sputtered for a full minute before he could choke out, "But you're straight?"

Nate shrugged one shoulder. "And you're a coward."

Oh, this was so happening. Nate would be eating those words tonight.

As Holden stepped up to the coals, he realized various parts of his anatomy possessed deeper wells of courage than he ever would have expected... when given the right incentive.

Intense heat scorched his bare feet, but he was on the other side before he knew it.

He turned back toward Nate, triumphant smirk firmly in place, fully expecting him to back down.

But Nate's eyes were bright and reckless, hungry in a way Holden had never seen before, hotter than the coals. Nate's gaze slid down his body and landed below his belt. He wet his lips, but not out of nerves.

Holden stared back as the realization hit him. Apparently his straight BFF wasn't so straight after all.

And from the way he all but inhaled Holden when they got back to their hotel room, he'd been thinking about this for as long as Holden had.

He also seemed perfectly willing to eat more than just his words.

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