It’s a short call, but it feels like being benched. When he hangs up, he sets the phone down like he’s placing a martyr on an altar and looks over his shoulder. “Sorry,” he says. “He wanted to check in about tonight’s film session. Coach added a clip review.”
“Of course he did,” I say. “You two compare calendars now?”
He watches me for a beat, like he’s deciding which bomb to defuse first. “He’s my… friend.”
“Right.” I prop my hands under my head and let the silence hurt. “When are you going to break things off with him?”
He blinks once. Twice. That’s all it takes. Not a no. Not a yes. Just that slow, careful blink while the gears spin up behind his eyes. The kind of pause you learn from a life of saying the perfect thing second.
I laugh, and it’s not a nice sound. “There it is.”
“Magnus,” he warns, the plea hiding under the name. “It’s?—”
“Complicated?” I supply, sweet as poison. “He’s into you. You let everyone think you’re into him. You go on dates. He calls first thing in the morning while I’m in your bed? Nuh uh. Break it off.”
He stares at the comforter. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” My tone is icy. “You like him more than me?”
Alaric’s eyebrows knit together. “Of course not. But a lot is riding on whatever this thing Kyle and I have, and I have to handle things delicately.”
“Wait wait. So your not breaking up with him for yourimage?” I push up on my elbows. “Or because you like keeping options?”
His head snaps toward me. “That isn’t fair.”
I smile without humor. “I’m not trying to be fair. I don’t want to share you withKyle Thorn.”
He drags a hand through his hair, buying time he doesn’t have. “Kyle is… important to me. He’s been there a long time. I don’t want to hurt him. He?—”
“He’s safe,” I say. I don’t let him look away. “Say it. He’s safe.”
He swallows. Doesn’t say it. Says the cousin of it. “He can be trusted.”
I laugh again, sharper. “And I can’t.”
“That’s not what I?—”
“You just said it,” I cut in, sitting up, the sheet falling away. “You can’t trust me not to embarrass you.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he says, voice fraying. He runs out of chess moves and shifts to honesty like it hurts. “You don’t… make careful choices.”
“You mean I makemychoices.” I lean forward. “You want careful? Call Thorn back. I’m sure your dad would fucking love that.”
He flinches like I’ve hit the center of the right target. “Don’t do that.”
“What, say out loud the parts you pretend don’t run your life?” I’m not yelling. I don’t need to. Cold lands harder than heat. “You want me in bed and in the dark and off the record. But daylight? That’s for Kyle.”
“That’s not true,” he says fast, and the speed tells on him.
“Then prove it,” I say. “Tell him. End it.”
He hesitates again, and that’s the whole story. He doesn’t sayI will.He doesn’t saytoday.He says the one thing that has always been the quiet law of his life. “Magnus, please. I can’t be another story. It’s complicated.”
I stand. The room changes angle with me. “No,” I say. “It’s not. It’s a multiple-choice test you don’t want to take because the right answer costs you something.”
He breathes in like he might drown in the next one. “This isn’t about you not being… enough.”
“Which part am I supposed to believe?” I ask softly. “The part where you hide me? Or the part where you feed the press dating rumors about your safe pick because it keeps your father happy?”
