Except he’s right here, knee against mine, body angled slightly toward me even though we’re not supposed to beanythingin public.
I steal a glance, expecting him to shift away now that we’re moving.
He doesn’t.
His elbow rests casually on the armrest, fingers curled loose near mine. One shift and I could touch him. Lace our hands together. Press my thumb to the scar on his knuckle and pretend I’m not breaking every rule I promised myself I’d keep.
Instead, I whisper, “You’re acting weird.”
He glances over, unbothered. “Weird how?”
“Like you don’t care who sees this.”
He shrugs again, and the movement draws my attention to the curve of his neck, the slight purple hue still lingering near his collarbone.
“They’re not looking,” he says simply.
“But theycouldbe.”
He studies me in the dim light, unreadable for a second, and then his lips twist into something small. “You ever think maybe I don’t want to keep pretending?”
That stops me cold.
I blink. Swallow. My heart lodges itself in my throat.
The bus turns, and a sweep of orange light cuts across his face again, highlighting the slight crease between his brows. As though he didn’t mean to say it—but also like he did.
“I thought…” I trail off. WhatdidI think? That he would live his life in the closet? That this thing—whatever it is—only exists in private because we agreed to keep it there?
“You thought I’d never want this out in the open,” he finishes for me.
I shift in my seat, trying to slow the pulse racing in my throat. “You said you weren’t ready.”
“I wasn’t. And maybe I’m still not, not all the way. But I’m also not gonna sit here like you’re just another guy on the team. Not when I know what your mouth tastes like.”
My chest tightens. “Todd?—”
“I’m not saying we make out in front of Coach,” he adds quickly, voice still low. “Just… maybe I don’t care if people start to guess. Let ‘em.”
A beat passes. My heart’s still thudding like it doesn’t know what to do with that.
Outside, the highway disappears into black as we merge onto it to get back to the hotel. Inside, his thigh presses into mine again—intentional this time. There’s no mistaking it.
And for once, I don’t know what the hell to say.
So I don’t say anything at all.
TWENTY-SIX
TODD
I don’t move away.
Neither does he.
And maybe that’s reckless. Maybe it’s exactly the wrong time to test the limits of what we can get away with, but there’s something about the way Logan keeps shifting in his seat like he doesn’t know what to do with himself that makes it impossible to behave.
The light from the passing street lamps throws half his face into shadow, the other half kissed with gold. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, trying not to smile, trying not to look at me—but I know he’s aware of every inch of space I take up beside him. I can feel the tension radiating off of him like heat.
