“Yes.”
Evan’s shoulders dropped a fraction as he exhaled. “Okay,” he said, almost to himself.
CJ tipped his head. “Okay?”
Evan huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Okay.” He dragged a hand through his hair and his attention dropped briefly to the ground before lifting back to CJ. “I thought you were shutting me down.”
“I was stopping you,” CJ said. “There’s a difference.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.” Evan’s mouth arched upward in a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He rocked backslightly on his heels and studied CJ again. “And if I hadn’t been drunk?”
CJ felt his pulse pick up and something that felt dangerously close to hope flared in his chest. “Then we wouldn’t be standing in a parking lot having this conversation,” he said.
Evan’s gaze flicked to his mouth for half a second before snapping back up. “Where would we be?”
“Somewhere a lot less public.” The words came out steadier than he felt.
CJ was suddenly too aware of how close they were standing. He remembered how quickly something belonging just to them could turn into something exposed. More than that, he was aware of himself, and of how badly he wanted to close the small gap still between them. That hadn’t changed, not even after seven years of distance and silence. He dragged in a breath to ground himself.
“Somewhere,” he added, a little quieter, “that we don’t have to think about who’s watching.” Where he didn’t have to think about what it could cost, and he could just want Evan without immediately calculating the fallout.
Evan stared at him, and CJ could see the surprise on his face. But he swallowed hard, then nodded.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
CJ felt something slot into place inside him, and he inhaled deeply. He hadn’t thought this far ahead, hadn’t considered what he would do past refusing to let Evan walk away again. But now Evan was standing in front of him, agreeing to go somewhere private, and CJ was suddenly very aware that he’d just started something he wasn’t sure he knew how to stop.
“Come back to my place,” he said, spitting the words out before he could second-guess them. “We can…talk. Actually talk.”
Evan didn’t answer right away. He just stared at him like he was waiting for CJ to backtrack or laugh it off. Like he was waiting for CJ to say “never mind.” For one terrifying second, CJ thought Evan might be the one to change his mind.
Then Evan nodded again, slower this time. “Okay.” Evan shifted his bag higher on his shoulder and jerked his head toward the lot. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Yeah, I— Yeah. Sure,” CJ stammered because apparently talking had become a liability.
Evan’s mouth twitched, a hint of something that could have been a smile, before he turned and headed for his SUV. CJ stood there staring at the spot where Evan had been standing. He needed a moment for his brain to catch up to what his mouth had just committed him to.
“Shit,” he muttered.
He turned and walked to his own truck, threw his bag into the passenger seat, and tried to ignore how badly his hands were shaking as he started the car. The engine turned over, and CJ gripped the steering wheel like it might steady him. It didn’t. Of course it didn’t. He could feel his pulse thumping in the hollow of his throat and his thoughts were racing too fast to catch.
“You invited him over,” he said aloud. The words sounded surreal in the quiet cab and he shook his head in disbelief. “You actually invited him over.”
He pulled out of the lot on instinct, barely registering the turns as newly formed muscle memory took over. A flash of light drew his eyes to the rearview mirror, but he couldn’t tell if it was Evan’s car behind him.
CJ blew out a long breath on a whistle. “It’s fine. It’s totally normal for him to be following you home. You live in the same building. This is a normal thing that happens.”
He was just going to ignore the fact that Evan had never followed him home before, and something about him doing it now made this serious. More serious.
“What are you doing?” he asked himself. His grip tightened on the wheel and he flexed his fingers once.
“Okay,” CJ said, forcing his voice into something steadier. “Okay, this is fine. You’re fine.”
He was not fine.
“You’re going to talk,” he continued, like he was laying out a strategy before a game. “That’s it. Just talk. Like a normal person. No spiraling. No saying anything you can’t take back.”
He paused.
