“Still,” Jason shrugs, completely unapologetic. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re on the same page about the big stuff. Are you serious about Thomas? Would you marry him?”
I feel Thomas looking at me, and my face goes up in flames.
“Yes, of course,” I say, blushing hard—then quickly add, “Not right now though.”
“Sure,” Thomas says, letting out a quiet laugh.
Jason stares at us like we’ve both grown second heads. Then, slowly, his expression shifts into something that almost looks like happiness.
“Holy shit,” he says, a grin breaking across his face. “You guys are actually serious about this. You’re really going to be together.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, though I can’t help smiling.
Thomas chuckles and slides an arm around my waist, pulling me in closer.
Jason suddenly stands, his chair scraping loudly against the kitchen floor. For a split second, I think he might be storming out—but then he walks toward us, arms outstretched, and before I can process what’s happening, he’s hugging us both. One arm around each of us. An awkward, too-tight three-person hug.
“I’m so happy for you, you idiots,” he says, voice muffled.
“Really?” I ask, my voice small.
The knot of tension I didn’t even realize I was carrying starts to loosen. I hadn’t fully understood how much I wanted Jason’s approval—until right now.
Jason pulls back but keeps a hand on each of our shoulders.
“Of course,” he says, glancing between us. “All I’ve ever wanted is for you both to be happy. And if you make each other happy…” He shrugs, a small, genuine smile breaking through. “Then I’m happy too.”
“Thanks, Jase,” Thomas says quietly.
Jason’s smile shifts. “Besides, now when we hang out, I won’t have to sit through all that unresolved sexual tension anymore. It was getting weird.”
“What?” I blurt. “There wasn’t—we didn’t—”
Thomas jumps in. “No, we didn’t—”
Jason waves us off, already turning away. “Relax. I’m just saying, I approve. Or whatever. Just…don’t screw this up.”
“We won’t,” Thomas says, solid as ever.
Jason pauses again, and when he looks back at us, there’s a flicker of something more vulnerable in his expression.
“And maybe don’t change everything all at once,” he adds. “I still want to hang out with my best friend. And my brother.”
It’s such an unexpected concern that it takes me a second to realize what he’s really saying: he’s afraid of losing us—both of us—to whatever this is turning into.
“Nothing’s going to change, Jase,” I say quickly. Then pause. “Okay, some things will. Obviously.” My face goes hot again at the thought of everything that’s already changed. “But we’re still going to be here.”
Jason nods, visibly relieved. “Good. That’s good.”
A brief silence settles over the kitchen, full of everything we’ve just said—and everything that’s still shifting between us.
Then Jason claps his hands, breaking the moment. “Did you say you’re making pancakes? I’m starving.”
“Yeah,” I say, with a small laugh. “If you’ve got the ingredients.”
“I do,” he says, already moving toward the cabinets.
I move to follow, but Thomas’s hand slides from my waist to the small of my back. When I glance up, he’s watching me with so much love in his face it makes my chest ache.
