“Shut up,” she said gently. “It’s scary because you can’t control it.”
She tapped her mug thoughtfully. “Does he know you’re gay?”
“Yes.”
“And he didn’t bolt.”
“No.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“He knows. We just haven’t put a name to it yet.”
Her mouth tilted. “Of course he knows. Those boys never think they’re obvious.”
“He’s disciplined,” Melvin said. “He holds it down.”
“That’s not the same as hiding.”
Melvin looked away. “I touched him,” he admitted, voice quieter. “Just his arm. To steady him.”
Her face changed immediately, alert. “And?”
Melvin took a slow breath. “It felt like something… clicked.”
She went very still. “Melvin.”
“I don’t know what it was,” he said quickly. “For a second it felt like my instincts recognized something before I did. When we touched there was this quick spark. Gone just as fast.”
Her eyes widened a fraction. “Oh hell, Mel.”
“Don’t,” Melvin warned.
She held up a hand. “Okay. Okay. You don’t know.” Then softer: “But you suspect.”
Melvin stayed silent.
“Cats and dogs,” she murmured. “You never do anything halfway,” she added. “Not even falling.”
Melvin went still.
“Has he hurt you?” she asked. “Even by accident.”
“No. He’s good.”
“Good doesn’t mean safe. But it helps.”
Melvin nodded.
“You’re worried about keeping it contained.”
“Yes.”
“I’m tired of living like everything about me has to stay a secret.”
“I know,” she said softly. Then she smirked.
“So what, you bringing home a golden retriever for protection?”
