“What?” I say, harsher than I mean, but I hate when people wave at me like that. And I hate that I snap at Bradenin front of Liambecause he probably didn’t know any better and is mostly cool to me. Even if he doesbrome.
“I said, Bowie’s in the office.”
“Thanks.”
I weave my way toward the back, careful to avoid anything that looks even slightly sparkly; Liam follows close behind.
“Uh,” I say. “Did you... did you need Bowie for something? Another sign lesson?”
“No. Just... didn’t feel like going home yet.”
“Oh.”
The office door is open, so I poke my head in. It’s a small, cramped space: a desk, a laptop, way too many coffee mugs, and shelf upon shelf of music. The soft scent of paper and toner fills the air.
“Hey, Jacks. Hey, Liam. You all done?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry. I need another hour.”
“I can give Jackson a ride,” Liam says. “If you need to stay.”
If I have to ride in a car with Liam, alone, I think I might explode.
“It’s all good, me and Bowie are hanging out after anyway.” I turn to Liam. “You don’t have to hang around. Hey, did Jasmine text you?”
Deflecting seems the only safe choice. Jasmine likes Liam. Liam likes her.
I’m not crushing, I’m not anything. I’m just a gay boy that saw Liam’s abs up close and needs some time to decompress. That’s totally normal.
Liam’s cheeks color. He looks at me for a long moment, and then past me at Bowie, and then back.
“Uh. Okay. See you, I guess.”
“Yeah. See you.”
Once Liam’s gone, Bowie switches to sign.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
Bowie’s nostrils flare. “Why are you trying to foist him on Jasmine?”
“She likes him. He likes her. They’re just being weird.”
“You sure about that?”
“You didn’t see him after Perkins. He was all...”
“All what?”
But I don’t want to tell Bowie what Liam told me. That felt like the kind of thing told in confidence.
“Trust me. He definitely does.”
Braden appears in the doorway.
