Instead of heading towards the fridge and the aforementioned water, Trevor drifted towards the little table he’d gotten and set up next to the couch. He had half a puzzle done, and leaning over it, he scanned over a grouping of pieces, still trying to find the exact right one to put into the section he’d been working on before they left for Vault.
“I said water, not puzzle,” Lane said gruffly. “But Gatorade would be even better.”
A second later something caught his eye in its periphery. A bright blue bottle.
Trevor looked over, and Lane had another one in his hands, orange this time. His second favorite. But the blue wasboththeir number one, and Lane had given it to him instead of keeping it for himself.
Always when Trevor thought this living-together thing was never going to work, that he’d be better off moving out on his own, Lane did something shockingly thoughtful, something that told Trevor he was actually paying attention after all.
“Thanks,” Trevor said, picking up the bottle and twisting the top off. He wasn’t drunk by any means, but Lane was probably right about getting some extra fluids.
Not that he was going totellhim that.
“You gonna be up for awhile?” Lane asked.
They did have practice tomorrow, but it didn’t start til noon—a happy New Year’s gift from the coaching staff and a congratulations for making it to the end of the season. The last regular season game was coming up on Sunday, and it seemed like a lot of the regular starters wouldn’t be playing.
Trevor shrugged. Still feeling that electric current under his skin and not wanting to look too closely at why. And if he went to bed, there’d be nothing but the dark ceiling to distract him. “I wanna finish this section.”
“I’m gonna take a shower,” Lane said.
“Alright,” Trevor said. He shed his jacket and slipped out of his shoes, barely noticing when Lane left.
The puzzle helped; italwayshelped. But not as much as it usually did. The section he was working on—the picture was of one of the European Christmas markets and challenging in that so many motifs repeated,plusall those freaking people—was difficult and frustrating.
It was even more frustrating that he couldn’t quite lose himself in it the way he wanted to.
You’re twenty-two,he told himself firmly,if you liked more than girls, you’d have figured that out by now.But the words were not as convincing as they’d once been. Hadn’t Aidan not realized until later in life, until histhirties, that he was into guys?Trevor was not stupid enough to think he was somehow better, more evolved, moreanything, than Aidan Flynn.
“You still out here?”
Trevor looked up and Lane was standing there, wearing only a pair of low-slung gray sweatpants, muscled chest and abs on full display.
He swallowed and looked away.
“Yeah,” Trevor said. “This section fucking sucks.”
It was funny, because before coming to Toronto, Trevor wouldn’t have said he’d noticed Lane in any particular way. But the longer this living-together thing went on, it was like he couldn’tstopnoticing.
He didn’t want to, because it was so fucking awkward that he couldn’t stop himself. Lane was his stepbrother, and just because he was gay didn’t mean he wanted to be ogled all the time.
But if he doesn’t want to be, he should put some fucking clothes on.
“You want some help?” Lane said, taking a few steps closer, leaning over the table, right next to where Trevor was sitting. He could feel the damp heat of his skin.
Lane had never volunteered to help before. A month ago, Trevor would have scoffed and told him that puzzles were way,wayabove his pay grade, and he almost said it now, but he didn’t want to fight.
Didn’t want to keep the demon-twin shit going. Not now, anyway, when it was nice and cozy in the apartment, the only light coming from the lamp he’d turned on next to his table.
“Sure,” Trevor said softly. He pointed out the section he was working on, and explained what general shape the piece he was looking for had, and what it should have on it.
“Got it,” Lane said. He didn’t pull up a chair, just leaned over, and began sorting through the pieces earnestly and with enoughskill that Trevor was beginning to wonder how much he’d been paying attention before, even when he’d claimed Trevor’s hobby was dorky and stupid.
It was quiet for a long time, each of them working, though Trevor wasn’t as absorbed as he wanted to be.
Maybe it was time to finally admit that he needed to tellsomeoneabout this. As people went, Lane wasn’t theworstchoice.
He ignored the small voice in the back of his head reminding him it was actually a terrible idea to confess this particular thing to a person he was beginning to think he might be attracted to. Of course it was less insane because Lane had not once showed even a hint that he might be attracted to Trevor; he’d barely tolerated his presence from day one.
