"Fucking?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know, going to movies? Dinner? Hanging out without your dick in him?" Robin steals my glass, downs it, pours himself another. "Talking about things that aren't sex? Learning what his favorite color is?"
"Why would I need to know his favorite color?"
"Because that's what people do when they care about each other beyond orgasms." Robin's voice goes quieter. "Our parents really fucked us up, didn't they?"
"They weren't exactly relationship role models."
"Mom changing boyfriends every few months. Dad with his rotating girlfriends who were always 'just friends' until suddenly they were living with him." Robin's voice goes flat, the humor draining out of it. "You remember that one Christmas? Where both their current partners had a fistfight in the front yard while we ate cold pizza in your car?"
"I remember." I'd been sixteen. Robin was ten. We sat in my beat-up Honda and watched through the windshield like it was a movie. Mom screaming. Dad's girlfriend pulling hair.Someone's boyfriend throwing punches. And us, eating pizza that had gone cold an hour ago, because no one had remembered to feed us.
"Good times."
"The best." Robin's quiet for a moment, staring into his whiskey like it holds answers. "We never saw them be in love, did we? Not real love. Just... possession. Jealousy. Using each other to not be alone. Fighting and making up and fighting again because that was easier than actually being vulnerable."
"Is that not what relationships are?"
Robin looks at me like I've said something profoundly sad. "Ash. No. That's not—" He shakes his head. "Look at Knox and Toby. That's what relationships can be. Someone who chooses you, every day, because they want to. Not because they're scared to be alone. Not because they're trying to win. Just because being with you makes them happy."
"Knox is a shifter. He has instincts telling him Toby's his mate."
"And Toby's human, and he chose Knox back. That's the point." Robin leans forward, elbows on the island. "The bond told Knox that Toby was his. But Toby didn't have a bond. Toby just had a guy who looked at him like he was the sun, and he decided that was enough. That's what choosing someone looks like."
I don't have a response to that. I've never thought about it that way before.
"Okay, new approach." Robin sets down his glass with a decisive click. "Do you actually like Jason? As a person?"
"He's... passionate. About bikes. And food. He takes care of everyone."
"That's not what I asked."
"I don't know him enough to know if I like him."
"Then get to know him."
"How?" I start pacing again, restless energy with nowhere to go. "I already fucked it up. He probably hates me."
"He doesn't hate you. He's hurt, but he doesn't hate you." Robin's quiet for a moment, watching me pace. Then he grins suddenly, the kind of grin that usually means trouble. "Want to go to a movie?"
"Now?"
"Tomorrow. Horror night at the bar."
"I don't like horror movies."
"Perfect. The pack does movie nights. Popcorn, blankets, the whole thing. It's very cute and domestic." Robin's grin widens. "Jason will be there."
"Robin—"
"No, listen." He holds up a hand. "You want to figure out if you actually like him? You want to maybe not be a complete disaster? Then come to horror night. Be friendly. Dress nicely. Do something with Jason with your clothes on so you actually get to know him."
"He won't want to see me."
"He will. He's got it bad for you, despite my many warnings about your emotional unavailability." Robin stands, coming over to grip my shoulders. His hands are firm, grounding. "But Ash, if you're going to do this, you have to actually try. Not just show up and brood in a corner and hope he comes to you. You have to make an effort."
