Mason blinks, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Uh, yeah, but I moved back here a couple years ago.” He scratches the back of his neck, gaze skimming past me instead of meeting my eyes.
My attention drifts lower just as the guy beside him slides an arm around his waist, thumb brushing slow circles into the small of his back.
Up close, the man’s softness feels almost defiant for a place like Claremont Shores. His nails are painted a glossy pastel pink, tiny sparkles catching the sunlight on his thumbs as his hand rests against Mason’s hip. A rainbow beaded bracelet hangs around his dainty wrist, a Pride flag charm dangling there.
My pulse pounds in my ears.
“So… it’s true?” I ask, lowering my voice and leaning across the table. “The rumors?”
Mason’s jaw tightens. “What do you mean?”
“You’re… gay?” The word comes out clumsy. My eyes flick to the man at his side and back again. “I heard you kissed a guy on the Fourth of July.”
The second it leaves my mouth, I know I’ve botched it. Mason goes rigid, something shuttering behind his eyes—fear, anger, maybe both. I’ve never been good at vulnerability.
I probably got that from my dad.
“Mason, c’mon. Let’s just go,” the guy murmurs, tugging gently at his sleeve. Mason doesn’t move.
“Hey, I don’t judge,” I say quickly, lifting my hands in surrender. “It’s just… surprising. You were such a ladies’ man in high school. Luke swore the rumor was bullshit.”
Mason squares his shoulders, chin lifting. “Not that it’s any of your business—or Luke’s—but yeah, I’m gay.”
“Oh.” I blink, my mouth falling open before I can stop it. “Wow.”
Smooth, Ashton. Real smooth.
He shoves a wad of cash into my palm, hard enough to throw me off-balance. “Thanks for the cherries. Really great catching up,” he says, voice tight.
I shake my head frantically. “Mason, wait, I—”
He doesn’t let me finish. He laces his fingers through the other man’s and pulls him away from the table. They disappear into the crowd, shoulders brushing as they weave between people.
I stand there with cherries and crumpled bills in my hand, staring helplessly at their retreating backs.
How the hell did I manage to screw that up so badly?
“I’m a fucking idiot,” I mutter, burying my face into Troy’s chest.
His laugh vibrates beneath my cheek, low and warm, and he presses a soft kiss to my temple. “So dramatic,” he teases.
I tighten my arms around his waist, squeezing him closer. The soft give of his belly presses against my stomach, squishy and comforting—my own personal teddy bear. He smells like citrus cleaner and hops, like the brewery clinging to his skin even after a shower.
We’re sprawled on his couch, the overhead lights off, only a lamp glowing in the corner. It’s quiet and safe, with Cryptid napping peacefully at our feet. Nothing like the chaos of the market.
He runs a hand up and down my back. “Okay,” he says more gently. “What happened? You’ve been weird since you walked in. Did something go down at the market today?”
I hesitate, then sigh. “Yeah. I saw someone. An old friend from high school.”
“Oh yeah?” He tips his head back to look at me. “Who?”
“Mason Burke.”
Recognition flashes across his face. “Wait—the lifeguard who kissed a guy at the Fourth of July?”
I pull back, blinking at him. “How do you know that?”
His mouth twitches. “Babe. I work at a brewery. People get chatty when they’re drunk.” He grins. “I’ve heard that story from, like, half a dozen different customers. It’s the hottest piece of entertainment this town’s had all summer.”
