“No.” Finn stood. The chair rolled back with a creak. “I don’t need you to explain it. But you came in here anyway.”
“I saw the projector glow through the window. Checking who was in the building.”
“And now you know.”
Evan’s gaze cut toward the hallway, then back. His jaw tightened. His eyes dropped to Finn’s lips, held for a second, then snapped up. His Adam’s apple bobbed once.
“I should go.”
“You keep saying that.” Finn took a step forward. “You keep telling me to leave, and then you don’t.”
“Finn.”
“Evan.”
Another step. Then another, until Finn was close enough to catch the cedar and bergamot underneath Evan’s cologne, the scent that had followed him back to his apartment and stayed in the fabric of his jacket for a day and a half. Evan’s breathing changed. Finn could hear it, the intake going shorter, shallower, and he stayed right where he was and let that do the work.
“You make me a lot of things.”
Evan’s lips pressed flat. No answer. No retreat. Evan stood there with his fists at his sides while Finn reached out and pressed his palm flat against Evan’s chest, right over his sternum. The cotton was thin. Evan’s heartbeat slammed against it, fast and insistent, and Finn’s own chest loosened for the first time all week. There it was. The thing Evan wouldn’t say. The thing his body said for him every time Finn got close enough to listen.
“Tell me to leave.” Finn held his ground. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll walk out, and we go back to pretending.”
“It’s not about what I want.”
“It’s only about what you want. Everything else is noise. The age gap. The job. What people might say.” Finn held Evan’s gaze. “None of it matters if you don’t want me.”
Evan’s throat worked. He said nothing.
“That’s not how the world works.”
“That’s exactly how the world works.” Finn closed the last of the distance. “You’re scared, and that’s fine. I get it. But I’m not going to let you use it as a reason to walk away from me.”
Evan’s weight tipped forward a fraction before he caught it.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I know exactly what I’m asking for.” Finn let himself smile. “I’ve been thinking about it since sophomore year. I’ve got a pretty detailed picture at this point.”
“Finn—”
“Tell me to stop.”
Evan didn’t.
Finn hooked two fingers through the knot of Evan’s tie and pulled him in.
The first touch was a brush, giving Evan one last chance to step back. Evan’s response was to grip Finn’s hips hard enough to bruise, fingers digging in through the denim. Finn’s breath left him. His knees dipped before he locked them.
Evan tasted like coffee and mint, his stubble scraping along Finn’s chin, and the noise that came out of Finn’s throat was not one he’d authorized. His fingers were trembling. He dug them into the back of Evan’s neck harder and it didn’t help.
Evan’s hands slid from Finn’s hips to the small of his back and hauled him closer. Finn went, arms around Evan’s neck, pressed flush, and the heat of Evan’s body through the thin cotton of his shirt was a revelation. When Evan’s back hit the wall, Finn used the leverage to roll his hips forward. They were both hard already. Finn could feel Evan through too many layers, and he ground forward, swallowing Evan’s groan into the kiss.
“Fuck.” Evan broke the kiss long enough to say it. “We can’t—”
“We already are.”
Evan laughed, startled and real, and Finn kissed it right out of him. He worked his fingers under Evan’s shirt, palms flat on the warm skin of his back. The muscles jumped under his touch. Solid everywhere. Broader than Finn had built in his head, and he’d spent a lot of time building it.
