"Yeah?"
"Have you been tearing your closet apart and pacing in your underwear?"
I jerked a shoulder up. "Basically."
After a pause, he said, "Me too."
"But—why? You know where we're going."
He paused again. "Because I don't want to screw this up either."
The back of my neck heated, then my cheeks. And I was smiling, not that Jory could see any of it but maybe he was feeling this way too. Maybe we were both blushing and tender and scared as hell to get this wrong because we knew it could be very, very right.
"And there's something else I should say," he added. "I want to apologize."
"You can't dump me right now. Not when we've established I'm going a little nutty and pacing in my underwear."
"No, that's not what I'm saying," Jory replied with a stiff laugh. "I feel bad that it's taken me so long to warm up. Sometimes, I experience changes like new jobs, new cities, new homes—"
"New guys," I added.
"New guys, yes," he agreed. "I experience some of that change as little traumas. Even if it's a good change, a wonderful change, my system needs extra time to regain homeostasis. It's like I can't do anything until I've accepted those changes, integrated them into my operating system, and found that new normal because my brain and body are in survival mode. That's why it took me so long to go out with you in the first place and why I'm still on eggshells."
"You don't have to apologize," I said. "I know you're just processing. I can tell. I see it. It's like you're thinking real hard to solve a problem."
"You're being extremely tolerant. I know you'd like it if I just hurried up and—"
"No," I interrupted. "Actually, no. Expecting you to hurry up because I'm kind of obsessed with you is a quick way to send you running for the hills. I don't want that for me, and I also don't want to be the guy who scared off everyone's new favorite science teacher."
"So, you've thought about this," Jory said.
I could picture him arching his eyebrow up and giving me a sharp look. Loved it.
"Sure have," I replied. "I know I'd rather respect your needs and make you feel safe than anything else. I like you, Hayzer. I plan on hanging around as long as you'll have me."
"But…" He laughed, but it was the kind of noise that came without humor, without light. "But why?"
I wasthis closeto detailing the frequency with which I eye-fucked him but stopped myself and replayed that humorless laugh. "Do you need compliments, or do you need me to explain why you're worthy of affection?"
"I need—" he started, all crisp and snappy with his tone "—well, I guess I need to understand why you'd put up with all this from me. It's a lot to ask. Most people can't handle it."
Though he couldn't see it, I curled my arm into a bicep flex. "Most people aren't Coach Maximum."
"Why do I get the impression you're flexing something right now?"
"Because you're a fan of my fire power," I replied. "You also care about things in big, deep ways. You think more than anyone else I know and you listen even more. When you talk, people pay attention because you're thoughtful and informed. I figure you're one of the good ones. You're worth my patience. Plus, you're hot as fuck and kiss like a porn star."
"Max," he said, my name barely a sigh. "You're making me rethink this pumpkin patch idea."
I fisted my hand in my hair as a chill washed over my bare chest, down my spine. "Oh. Okay then. Um…I'm sorry."
"Oh, shit. No, not—I mean—if my roommate didn't make such a big deal about his no-visitors policy, we could just hang out here. Or we could get some pumpkins and then come back here and…and see what happens."
I pulled the phone away from my ear, frowned at it a moment before asking, "Are you saying we'd have naked bedroom time if it weren't for your roommate?"
"I'm saying I like you too," he replied. "I'll see you in an hour for the pumpkin farm. Okay?"
"Yeah, okay." A strangled groan rattled in my throat. "Look, I have to deal with my dick's interest in naked bedroom time—"
