Itay spoke something in Hebrew, which Adrian completely ignored until he repeated it in English. “Did you sleep well last night?”
Adrian responded with a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah,” the dryness in his tone unmistakable. He then turned to Logan, offering a warm smile that conveyed the shared memory of their night together.
“Where are you staying, Adrian?” Itay inquired again.
“We,” Adrian emphasized, “are staying not far from here.” His words were short and noncommittal. Logan couldn’t deny that it made his chest swell with a hint of pride that Adrian wasn’t trying to engage in conversation with his ex.
Then came Jack. Jack sauntered in full of confidence and a big Californian smile that seemed to light the entire bus. He slid into the seat behind Logan and Adrian, stretching long legs with a theatrical sigh of satisfaction.
“Well, damn,” Jack said, voice dipped in playful honey. “I was kinda hoping to sit next to you, Logan.”
Logan blinked, caught off guard, but only for a breath. He turned slightly on his seat, shoulders squaring, lips curving with dry amusement. “Already taken, I’m afraid.”
Next to him, Adrian went still. Not the easy kind of stillness, but the kind that coils under the skin—shoulders taut, jaw tight, his entire body drawing inward like a pulled bowstring. Logan felt it more than he saw it. When Adrian looked at Jack, the warmth he usually wore like sunlight was gone, replaced by something sharp and glinting, cold fire behind calm eyes.
Jack leaned casually against the seatback, unbothered. “Just sayin’,” he went on, eyes locked on Logan, “I’ve got plenty of room right here.” He patted his thigh, smirking. “We could enjoy the ride, stretch out a little.”
It was more teasing than serious, Logan could tell that. A flirt, maybe half-hearted, maybe not. But the tension it stirred in Adrian was anything but playful.
Adrian’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, fingers twitching like he was holding back something with teeth.
Logan turned back to Jack, a slow grin playing at his lips. “I don’t think a ride with you would be all that impressive.”
The bus erupted in laughter—snorts, whistles, someone slapping the seat.
Jack clutched his chest in mock agony. “Damn, man, breaking hearts before we’ve even left the parking lot.”
Then, with a wink, he tugged at the hem of his shirt and leaned forward again. “In case you get cold… or tired of the view… I’m just a row away. Maybe we can meet up later, just the two of us?”
Logan laughed, shook his head, not unkindly, but next to him, Adrian was granite. Stone-faced. Furious. Maybe it was ridiculous, but Logan felt a thrill crawl up his spine. He loved seeing Adrian like that, possessive, fierce, unfiltered.
Adrian turned, shoulders squared, his voice low enough to cut but not rise. “Back off.”
Jack lifted his palms in mock surrender, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Relax, big guy. Just giving Logan some options.” His tone was light, but the words hung heavy, a spark tossed into dry brush.
Before Adrian could fire again, Logan’s hand found his shoulder. The touch was firm, coaxing him away from Jack’s smirk. “I’m not interested,” Logan said, steady, meeting Jack’s eyes without a blink.
“Suit yourself.” Jack’s grin slipped, but he slouched back into his seat as if nothing mattered.
The bus lurched forward, the windows rattling, the road unspooling along the coast.
Logan sank down beside Adrian, their shoulders brushing in the narrow space. He leaned close enough for his words to be meant for Adrian alone. “Hey,” he murmured, voice gentler now, “he’s just being an idiot.” His shoulder pressed deliberately against Adrian’s, a quiet tether, a promise disguised as something casual.
Adrian didn’t speak right away. But, after a deep breath, he relaxed enough and let his head rest on Logan’s shoulder, their height difference making it nearly unnoticeable.
The bus filled with stories and laughter, the boards in the trunk thudding softly whenever the road curved. The scent of sea salt and sunscreen mingled with the faint tang of gasoline. Everyone was friendlyenough, legs tangled, water bottles rolling on the floor, voices rising and falling with the road’s rhythm. Tales of wild adventures and mishaps spilled into the air—missed flights, stolen flip-flops, jellyfish stings. Adrian’s friends added their stories from cities where no one spoke their language, miming out misunderstandings to howls of laughter. They spoke mostly in English, and when someone tripped over an unfamiliar word, Adrian would lean toward Logan, his voice warm with laughter, translating with a grin.
Logan found himself laughing so hard at one story that his ribs ached—a story of Adrian mistaking a friend’s girlfriend for his mother.
“She looked old enough!” Adrian defended himself, red-faced with laughter. “She called him sweetie!”
“You told them that is so nice that he took his mom out on Friday night! That she must love her son!”
“But she was 42 years old. I was not wrong!” Adrian kept on insisting that his mistake was justified.
“They broke up after that!”
“That’s nothing,” said the guy sitting next to Jack, Leo. “You don’t know what I’ve been through with this idiot. The other night, he was so drunk he couldn’t even stand. We were at this party, and he swore up and down he’d crash at the hotel.”
