Bennett rolled his eyes. “Do not make it weird.”
“I live to make things weird,” Jasper said, then softened. “But I’ll give you space.”
Bennett nodded, grateful.
Jasper took his coffee by the window while Bennett spoke in low, precise tones at the desk. He listened without listening, aware of Bennett’s competence, the ease with which he handled questions and redirected concerns.
It was attractive.
When the call ended, Bennett closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair.
“That went well,” Jasper said.
Bennett exhaled. “It did.”
They sat in the quiet that followed, the kind that felt earned instead of awkward.
Jasper broke it. “So. What happens when we leave?”
Bennett stiffened. Just slightly.
“That is a reasonable question,” Bennett said.
“It is also an important one,” Jasper replied.
Bennett looked at him. “Are you asking what this is?”
“I am asking what you want it to be,” Jasper said. “Because I am not interested in pretending last night was situational.”
Bennett swallowed. “I’m not pretending.”
“I know,” Jasper said. “But you are avoiding.”
Bennett looked down at his hands. “I do not do well with undefined things.”
Jasper leaned back against the window. “Neither do I. I just learned to name them faster.”
Bennett looked up. “And what would you call this?”
Jasper met his gaze. “A start.”
Bennett considered that. “That feels… manageable.”
Jasper smiled. “High praise.”
Bennett’s mouth twitched. “Don’t push.”
“I’m not pushing,” Jasper said. “I’m setting a boundary.”
Bennett waited. “Which is.”
“I won’t be your secret,” Jasper said calmly. “I won’t pretend this only exists because we were stuck together.”
Bennett nodded slowly. “That is fair.”
“I am not asking you to define it,” Jasper continued. “I am asking for intention.”
Bennett’s brow furrowed. “Define intention.”
