Kit drifted toward Holden, Darius in his wake. They all moved through the same space, aware of each other, reacting, separate but chained together.
Holden contemplated the rest of the cemetery, outside the sheltering hedges.
“What are you thinking about?” Kit asked quietly.
Holden answered just as quietly. “It’s nice that the Zhous are in urns, if James wants to talk to them. People in graves end up all jumbled together underground. The coffins eventually disintegrate, and as soil shifts around—”
“Why did you ask?” Darius muttered.
Kit had to muffle his laughter.
Kit was almost ready for dinner when James knocked on his open door. “Let me change my shirt,” Kit said, rifling through his dresser drawer.
“You’ve changed your shirt three times in the past minute and a half,” James pointed out. “I’ve been watching. This one looks good on you. Keep it on.”
Well. The dark red button-down definitely looked better when accessorized with a casual, confident order. Kit would go with that.
Maybe he was more nervous about meeting Miranda and Paz than he’d realized.
“I have a present for you,” James said, which was a welcome distraction. He had one hand behind his back, and a hesitant expression.
“What is it?” Kit moved closer, then stopped, eyes narrowing. “I’m not wearing any sex toys to meet Darius’s sister.”
“It’s not a sex toy, unless you’re more creative than I am.” James presented a thick, floppy book with a flourish. “Here.”
James’s usual gifts were expensive. Sleek little gadgets, luxurious clothes. The new book in Kit’s hands had a garish, glossy cover, and the boldest words in the title wereGED Practice Tests.
Confusion melted into something sweeter.
James rushed into an explanation before Kit could thank him. “I’ve had this for weeks, but I didn’t want to give it to you. I want you to be dependent on me. I want you to need me. Chains, money, blackmail, whatever it takes so you never leave.” James traced the curling edge of the book cover. “But I want you to be independent, too. Because that way, I know I have you locked up so tight, you won’t leave even if you can.”
Like there was even a chance. Kit’s throat tightened, each word better than a collar.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” Kit chewed his lip. “Thank you. This is really sweet. I’m going to fail so hard at these.”
“That’s the point.” James caressed Kit’s chin, then thumbed the damp curve of his lip. “You have to know where you’re starting, so you know what to learn.”
“Thank you,” Kit said again.
The practice book thumped to the floor as James shoved Kit against the wall. They kissed hungrily, desperately, until the doorbell rang.
Dinner went better than Kit expected. There was only one awkward moment when they were all sitting around heaping plates of Darius’s chicken parmigiana.
All of them minus Holden, who bailed at the last minute. Probably smart. As much as Kit liked the idea of them all doing things together… yeah. That was a little much. It wasn’t like Holden and Darius were dating.
Not that James and Darius were dating each other, either. They were both just dating Kit. And neither seemed inclined to save Kit from Miranda’s questions. Bastards.
“Do you go to SCU?” Miranda asked sweetly.
Miranda ran admin for a local community theater, which was where she met Paz. She barely resembled her older brother at first glance. Her face was sharper, her full lips more prone to smiling. The neon pink wig brought a vivid glow to her dark skin.
Her polite question barely hid her steely skepticism.
Honestly, fair. Kit was hardly an appropriate boyfriend for Darius. The thirteen-year age difference was the least of their issues, but it was the most obvious.
“I dropped out.” Kit said, snagging a second piece of garlic bread. His answer was truthful—but dodged the fact that he dropped out of high school, not college.
“What do you do?” Paz asked next, and her cheerful interest held none of her girlfriend’s skepticism. A thick braid of black hair circled her head, and the full face of makeup somehow went perfectly with her ratty tie-dye t-shirt.
