Page 24 of Puck You Both

I look at Patrick, willing him to start. He keeps his attention on the road, both hands on the wheel, profile calm in the passing streetlights.

It's on me, then. “So. Wallace.” I’m nothing if not eloquent.

“Wallace.”

That's all he gives me. Patrick isn't going to make this easy.

“After careful consideration—”

A quiet chuckle escapes him.

“Okay, rude.” Fair, but rude. “After some consideration…”

I lick my lips and taste chocolate. Now the words feel much larger than they did in the shelter.

Flirting with a giant man until he walks into a doorframe was a joke. Saying this makes it real enough for Patrick to reject, and I have a firm personal policy against handing people loaded weapons while pointing out where my soft parts are.

Still. I think about their fingers on the puck.

“I think he's into it.”

Patrick doesn't answer. Three seconds pass, and apparently my courage has a very short shelf life.

“Into us.”

His grip tightens on the wheel. Barely.

Another light turns green. He drives through it before speaking.

“You don't know that.”

True. Annoyingly, completely true. Wall might only be curious, and I don't know which of us put that look on his face.

Patrick lets the silence settle again for a long moment. Then, “Are you into it?”

My stomach drops.

Sneaky fucker.

I turn toward the window. Chicago slides past in streaks of lights, giving me nowhere useful to look. Yes is sitting right there, one syllable carrying huge consequences.

I could say it. I could also swallow a live grenade.

So I do what any brave, emotionally healthy adult would do. “Are you?”

Patrick doesn't answer.

He keeps his eyes on the road, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

Oh.

He's so into it.

Chapter 5

PATRICK

"TIP YOUR BARTENDER, or else!"