Blake snorted. “Did you read it? Because I kind of took it as clicking ‘I agree’ on the TOS of literally any website.”
“I didn’t read it,” Rusty said. “But you’re not meant to sign stuff without reading it, are you?”
Blake shrugged. “We do it all the time. It’s human. There’s no point in beating up our younger selves. We were having fun, and as far as consequences for fun go, I think we’re getting off light.”
Rusty chuckled at that. “You got so mad when I called you Mr. Brightside, and yet here you are, looking on the bright side.”
“You were comparing me to a song that’d been played todeathon the radio and the TV and everywhere else.”
“I do a great acoustic version of that one, y’know.”
“I’m sure you do,” Blake said. Rusty was good at what he did.
“I was never comparing you to the song,” Rusty said. “I like that you’re not miserable all the time. Even when you are miserable. You don’t let it weigh you down. I wish I was more like you.”
“Yeah, well…” Blake shrugged. “I wish I had your stunning good looks.”
Rusty raised an eyebrow. “If you don’t think you have, I’m taking you to an optometrist.”
Blake laughed at that, the last of the fog of irritability he’d woken up in this morning lifting.
Rusty had a way of doing that. Soothing him, making him laugh. It was a rare talent.
“I’m serious, but I’m gonna let you finish up by yourself,” Rusty said, surprising Blake again by heading for the door. “Nice arse, by the way.”
Blake rolled his eyes as Rusty left the bathroom, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. It was hard to resist a compliment, even if the guy handing them out was driving him nuts right now.
He’d called Blake cute to his mom on the phone, too. It was nice to hear nice things about himself.
Walking away from this as friends was the best possible outcome. Blake didn’t want to lose Rusty entirely, even if he never actually saw him again.
