“Maybe not, but at this point, I think you’re stuck with us.” The corner of Finn’s mouth tipped up in a smirk. “You have to remember, we’ve been dealing with your surly ass since we were kids. No point replacing you now.”
Finn got behind the wheel of his sporty little sedan, leaving Keaton on his own with his thoughts. They were right. Something needed to give.
TWENTY-TWO
Keaton parked in front of the building and turned off the engine, his hands lingering on the wheel. There was nothing he could do about the way his heart rattled in his chest. He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say all afternoon, but the words still felt unwieldy, bulky as plywood sheets stacked in the back of the truck. The dashboard clock glowed a little past six. He was early, of course. The plan was to have a plan, even if the plan was to talk about not having one.
The very idea of agreeing tonothave everything clearly laid out made him itchy, but if that helped prove to Jules how serious he was about them coming through this stronger, it’d be worth it.
The front door of Jules’s building banged open. Jules appeared, keys clipped to their belt, hair in artful disarray, slouchy shirt giving way to paint-flecked jeans. They spotted him and grinned, a sharp little thing that made Keaton’s pulse skip. He rolled down the window, but before he could say anything, Jules called out, “You look like a nervous prom date. Should I have brought a corsage?”
Keaton snorted, but the jab settled him. “You’re late.”
“I’m fashionably on time. Would you rather I hadn’t showered and changed out of my sweaty painting clothes?” Jules slid into the passenger seat, closing the door with a deliberate click. They slid across the bench seat so they were sitting in the middle. Their knee pressed against his, warm and familiar, grounding some of the jitters in his bones.
He glanced over, letting himself linger on the messy curls and their easy smile. He leaned in, placing a tender kiss on their cheek. “I’ll take you however I can get you. Ready?”
Jules buckled their seatbelt, gaze dancing. “Ready for what? You said to ‘wear something comfortable’ and that’s literally my whole wardrobe, so it didn’t take long to pull something together. You’re being suspiciously mysterious.”
Keaton didn’t answer, just put the truck in gear and backed out of the parking stall. It was true that he’d been unwilling to tell Jules where they were going. At first, it was because he wasn’t sure himself, and later because he realized he liked the idea of surprising Jules.
“You’ll see.” It came out gruff, but the way Jules’s eyes sparkled told him they knew exactly what he was doing.
See? I can be spontaneous and do something unexpected.
“So we’re not going to Brew & Barrel, Sweet & Simple, or anywhere else where half the town’s going to drop by the table and ask how we’re doing.” Jules managed to wait until they were on the outskirts of town to pry for information. Keaton was shocked about that. The silence in the truck didn’t feel oppressive tonight.
Keaton kept his eyes on the road, but the corners of his mouth tugged up. He rested his free hand on Jules’s knee, unable toresist touching them as much as possible to make up for not being able to cuddle them at night. “I thought you’d appreciate some privacy for once. Unless you’d rather have Sam, Ollie, and anyone else who sees us crashing dinner.”
Jules rolled their head against the seat, dramatic. “If you take me to mini-golfing, I’m leaving you.”
They were lying. He’d heard Jules and Ollie talking about the place outside of town that had recently reopened. It had been a staple for teens in town for over two decades, but had closed down as kids started turning to technology and gaming instead of hanging out on a Friday night.
Keaton shrugged, letting the dry humor settle in. “You think I’d do mini-golf? Please. I have standards.”
Jules grinned, the tension in their posture loosening as the familiar landscape blurred past the truck windows—downtown fading to tree-lined roads. They made small talk, sharing their mural progress: “I only spilled one cup of paint today, and this time it wasn’t on the wall.” And the latest weird customer at Brew & Barrel: “Someone ordered a decaf espresso with oat milk and came back to complain it tasted like it had ‘hippie milk’ in it.”
Keaton told them he was pretty sure they were only a day away from being able to officially open the apartment building for more tenants to move in. That news excited Jules because they hated being in that big building all alone. Which was why it had been so easy for “just tonight” to turn into Keaton spending the first week after Jules moved in at their place.
Jules reached over, fingers brushing his arm. “You’re being weirdly focused. You didn’t even complain when I changed the radio station.”
Truth be told, Keaton was so caught up in how tonight was going to go that he hadn’t even noticed Jules had turned it to the pop channel they loved.
“It’s been a long day, sorry.” Keaton risked a glance, meeting Jules’s gaze head-on. Guilt punched him in the gut. It was only hours ago that he’d promised Finn and Luke he’d be open with Jules about how he was feeling. Even though they weren’t there to hear him trying to brush off his distraction, it still felt wrong. “The truth is, I wanted to go somewhere out of Maple Hill tonight so we could actually talk. If we went anywhere in town, I’d have to share your attention, and I want tonight to be special.”
Jules’s expression softened, the edge of teasing giving way to something quieter. “That’s about the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all month. You sure you’re not sick?”
Keaton barked a low laugh, feeling the last of his nerves unspool. “Not sick. I missed you this weekend and had a lot of time to think. It was easy when we were roommates, but now I need to make time to show you how much I love you.”
“You do,” Jules reassured him. “I don’t need you to wine and dine me, Keaton.”
“Maybe not, but it’s what you deserve.” There was so much more Keaton wanted to say, but this wasn’t where he wanted to lay all his cards on the table. The rest could wait until they got to dinner.
The rest of the drive slipped into a comfortable hush, the kind that belonged to people who’d spent enough time together to know that silence didn’t need to be filled. The Lakeside Grill came into view—a squat building with a row of windows facing the water, a string of lights bobbing in the breeze on the patio. It was still new enough that Keaton was confident they wouldn’t have to deal with anyone from town deciding to make the drive this far out on a Monday night.
He parked and turned to Jules, who was craning to get a better look at the lit-up patio. “New place,” Keaton said, a little proud of himself. “Heard the food’s decent. Should be quiet.”
Jules unbuckled, sliding their hand over Keaton’s. “Looks perfect.” And just like that, everything felt possible again.
