I played a G chord.
It didn’t hurt.
I get this feeling, like I can feel my soul coming back to life, where I thought I was dead, my passion stolen from me.
But he didn’t steal anything.
I play it again, and it still feels awkward, but I adjust my fingers, and it comes out clean.
When I look up at Mike, he’s already smiling, big and bright-eyed, and he looks so fucking happy for me that all I can do is set the guitar down on the couch beside me, as gently as possible, and cross the space between us.
I tackle him backward onto the couch, both of us going over, and he laughs in surprise, his arms coming around me automatically. “I fucking love you,” I say, muffled into his shirt.
“I love you too, and,” I look up when I hear the smirk in his voice. “I’m not gonna lie. Watching my boyfriend with a guitar is making me kinda horny.”
“Your boyfriend?”
He meets my eyes, still smirking. “Obviously.”
Chapter 24
Mike is on the couch when I come through the door after a particularly brutal class, sitting cross-legged with a notebook open on his knee, a pen in his hand, and his hair pulled back with a headband he stole from Zara that he looks unfairly cute in.
He’s frowning at the page when I make it to the couch, and I can see why.
It’s blank.
“Are you actually doing homework?”
The frown turns to a pout. “Unfortunately.”
“Voluntarily?”
“It was due yesterday.” He clicks the pen a few times. “But it’s fine. I’m handling it.”
I shake my head and head toward the kitchen, so he can focus, but I stop when I see Damon sitting at the island.
He’s holding a can of Coke and a bag of chips open in front of him, a video playing on his phone. He looks up when I come in and raises the Coke in greeting. “Hey.”
“Oh yeah!” Mike shouts from the couch. “Damon’s here.”
“I can see that.”
I open the fridge and try not to overthink things. Damon’s Mike’s best friend. He’s been here plenty of times. It’s just that I’m sure he knows about what happened with us, and I don’t know what that makes me in his eyes.
The asshole that broke Mike’s heart, probably.
Mike appears at my side, reaching past me into the fridge for the orange juice. He pours himself a glass, sets the carton back, and then he kisses me.
It’s a peck, a welcome home. Except Damon is watching us.
“Don’t worry. He’s cool,” Mike says, nodding toward him.
I look over at Damon, who’s watching us with a chip halfway to his mouth. He eats the chip, and that’s that. He doesn’t look shocked or disgusted or anything.
“Okay,” I say, trying my best to let it be that.
He nods in acknowledgment, while Mike looks between us, his shoulders shaking and a big goofy smile on his face, hairband and all.
