He scanned the doors, wondering which one belonged to CJ, before shaking it off. It didn’t matter. Knowing which room was his wouldn’t change anything. He turned to head down the covered walkway and made it two steps before the door to the room next to his opened and CJ stepped out. Because of course he did.
Of course the universe was going to squeeze every last ounce of suffering out of his day.
CJ had changed into a faded gray T-shirt and athletic shorts. His hair was still damp from a shower, and his eyes were focused on his phone. Then he lifted his head and stopped like he’d hit an invisible wall. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and they were just two men standing beneath a motel overhang, staring at each other after seven years of carefully avoiding exactly this.
CJ cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said.
His voice was rougher than Evan remembered. Deeper. Maybe it was the desert air. Maybe it was the years between them.
Evan swallowed hard. “Hey.”
He kept moving because staying still felt like an invitation, and an invitation felt like a bad idea. But the walkway was narrow and he passed close enough to smell CJ’s soap. The almost brush of their shoulders sent heat up the back of his neck.
CJ stepped back, plastering his back against his door. “I, uh, I didn’t know you stayed here.”
“I always stay here,” Evan said before he could stop himself. He paused and looked at CJ.
“Right,” CJ said. “Eleanor mentioned that.”
“She told you that?” Evan stared at him. That didn’t seem like something Eleanor would do.
CJ’s mouth quirked in a poor imitation of a smile. “She didn’t name names. I guessed.”
Of course he had.
“Okay, well…” Evan didn’t know how to respond to that, so he held up his water bottle. “I need to get some ice.”
“Yeah.” CJ lifted his own bottle. “Me too. My freezer is already full of groceries, so I don’t have room for ice trays, and this air is killing my throat.”
“You get used to it.” The words came out softer than he meant them to, and CJ glanced at him, eyes scanning his face.
Evan looked away first and started walking again, and CJ followed. The glare of the fluorescent lighting in the room housing the ice machine washed everything in harsh white as the machine rattled. CJ grabbed the plastic scoop, filling his bottle as if it were the most neutral, nonthreatening thing he could do.
“How’s the room?” Evan asked suddenly because, apparently, his brain enjoyed throwing him into conversational traffic with no warning.
CJ blinked up at him, half-bent over the ice, like he hadn’t expected Evan to talk to him. “It’s good. Comfortable. I like the retro feel.”
He stepped back so Evan could have access to the ice machine.
“Yeah, El did a good job with making it feel authentic.” Evan started scooping ice.
“You’ve been coming here a while then,” CJ said after a moment. It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Evan straightened and looked at him with raised brows. “Why what?”
“Why this place?” CJ’s shoulder hit the wall as he leaned against it, his posture loose in the deliberate way Evan knew meant he was anything but relaxed. “There were at least twenty places on the list from Player Services when I got it. You picked the motel on the outskirts with a smiling sun on the sign.”
“It’s quiet,” Evan said simply.
“So are a lot of places,” CJ challenged.
“They mind their business here. They don’t care who you are or who you bring to your room as long as you don’t trash the place.” He locked eyes with CJ and shrugged. “That’s worth more than a fancy lobby or people falling all over you.”
“So, you come back every year so no one knows who you hook up with?”
