Page 20 of The Star in Room 7

I smile. “No, but let’s pretend it was.”

That makes him chuckle.

“If you’d rather stay here, we can.”

He shakes himself. “No. A run will be good. It’ll blow away the cobwebs.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“It’s something my nan used to say.”

“Your nan?”

“My grandmother.” He blushes. “I’ll go and get changed. I won’t be long.” He shuts the door.

I lean against the car, idly scrolling through social media apps on my phone while I wait. I hope that going for a run together will be low-pressure enough to get him to relax around me and maybe open up more. And, if not, at least we’ll both get some exercise and fresh air.

He doesn’t keep me waiting long. It’s odd seeing him in my gray sweatpants and T-shirt, especially as they fit him better than me. A man in sweatpants is always a delight.

“Am I supposed to leave a note or something?” he asks. “I didn’t see anyone else around to let them know I’m going out. I don’t know how stuff like that works.”

“I’ll text Phoenix,” I reply.

“Thanks.”

I open the passenger side door for him, wait until he’s slid into the seat, and then close it. I might not be his Daddy, but I still intend to give him a taste of what it’s like to be taken care of.

“It’s about a half-hour drive from here,” I tell him. “Feel free to browse my Spotify to pick some music. Know that I will absolutely judge you based on the songs you pick, though,” I add with a playful edge to my voice.

“Does that mean I get to look through your playlists and judge you?”

I chuckle. “Absolutely.”

I unlock my phone and hand it to him. As he starts browsing, I pull out of the drive and onto the road.

“Actually, you’ve got pretty good taste in music,” he says, putting on one of my mixes, which contains artists like Queen, Bon Jovi, and Muse.

“You seem a bit more relaxed today,” I note.

He rests his arm on the edge of the car door, against the window, and taps his forefinger against his lips. “I slept better and, honestly, I’m fired up about the idea of going for a run.” He glances at me and offers me a nervous smile. “It was a good idea, thanks.”

“So you don’t just work out to get roles, you enjoy it, too?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t at first, but the fitter I got, the more fun it became. What about you?”

“I started working out after the incident with my friend’s dad. Well, after I’d got over the concussion, anyway. I wanted to be able to stand up to abusive bastards like that if I ever needed to.”

When Zach remains quiet, I take my eyes off the road long enough to glance at him. He’s staring thoughtfully out the passenger window, his finger resting over his top lip now.

About two songs later, he says, “You never mentioned your friend’s name.”

“Kurt.” It still aches to say it, after all these years.

“Were you…? Never mind.”

“Boyfriends?”

“Yes. But, forget it. It’s none of my business. You’ve already told me more than I—” he cuts himself off.