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“Why do you think?”
I stare back, thoughts flying around my head in a wild swirl, and I can’t seem to pick any of them out to address.
“Come on,” Hayes says. “I didn’t take you for an asshole, James. Don’t prove me wrong now.”
I lick my lips slowly and try to figure out where to start untangling this.
“You’re…” Is where I choose to start.
He rolls his eyes.
“Gay. Yeah, I’m gay.”
“Since when?” I blurt.
He narrows his eyes. “Is this the part where you’re trying to remember if I’ve checked you out in the locker room?”
“Oh, fuck off. I wasn’t.”
We both glare at each other for a moment until he blows out a breath and starts rubbing the back of his neck.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I’m a bit touchy, obviously, when it comes to this.”
I lean against the side of the car, and he does the same. For a while, we both stay silent.
“I’m not advertising it,” he says.
I nod. “Okay.”
He keeps rubbing the back of his neck while he glances at me out of the corner of his eye.
The neck rubbing intensifies. He harrumphs and shakes his head. “Look, can I just have the number?” he asks, an irritated edge to his voice, like I’m the one making him do this.
I’m scrambling for a reply, and I come up with shit all.
“You think it’s a good idea?” I ask.
“You don’t?”
I’m out of words again.
He sighs. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to get wrapped up in this. How about you give him my number and tell him to give me a call or something? If he doesn’t, he doesn’t. No hard feelings.”
He looks at me expectantly.
What the hell do I say to this admittedly very reasonable request?
“I can’t.”
Well, apparently, I say that.
He frowns at me, but then gradually smooths out his expression. “Okay. I get it. I put you in an awkward situation with this. Forget I said anything. I’ll just stalk him in the library or something.”
He straightens up, ready to get going.
“You can’t,” I tell his back.
He turns around and narrows his eyes at me. “Why not?”
