Page 34 of Line Change

“I didn’t know Saint Pope had vices,” I say.

“You don’t know me.” He holds the joint out.

I take it and look out at the water. Behind me, Pope says, “I’m sorry.”

I turn toward him. “For what?”

Now I’m confused, and it has nothing to do with the weed.

Pope shifts his coat to the other arm. “For how I acted. The other night. In Arizona. We didn’t… I didn’t…” His jaw flexes while he tries to make the rest come out. “I should have…”

He looks almost cute when he can’t finish a sentence. His ears are going red too. I nearly tell him, but that would send him straight back through the kitchen door.

“Chill, dude. It’s cool.” I wave off the apology, but he shakes his head.

His jaw clenches. “It wasn’t. I was a dick, and I used you.”

My smile disappears. After spending the morning after Arizona telling myself the same thing, I don’t like hearing it from him. He was confused, and I kept pushing because I wanted him. We both got off, and I slept great afterward. I’m not letting him turn it into something that happened to me.

“It was a bit of fun. I’m not a fucking kid.” I hold out the joint. His fingers brush mine again when he takes it. “We’re fine.”

Pope watches me instead of smoking. I smile until he finally raises the joint to his mouth.

“Was that your first time?” I ask.

“What? Fuck, no!” He looks so offended that I laugh.

“I mean with a…”

“Yes.” He cuts me off before I can say guy.

I take the joint from him and draw in another mouthful. “And you’re freaking out, wondering which pride flag you’re supposed to burn?”

“Fuck off, man. My brother’s gay. I’m not a homophobe.” He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m just not…”

I don’t help him finish. He already did that once in Arizona.

“Is he the one who hooked up with Korolev?”

Pope’s mouth flattens. “We don’t need to talk about my brother’s sex life.” Pope takes the joint, his fingers sliding over mine again. “But, uh, yeah.”

I hum.

Pope’s eyebrows pull together as he brings the joint to his lips. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Korolev’s hot. Good for him.”

Pope chokes on the smoke and turns away, coughing into his fist. I laugh until he glares at me with watering eyes. “Jesus Christ, Fraser.” He shoves the joint back into my hand.

“I didn’t say I wanted to fuck him.” I take another drag. “You can tell your brother to stand down.”

“I’m not telling Grayson any part of this conversation.” He almost smiles.

Pope folds his arms over the railing beside me. I settle next to him, our sleeves brushing whenever one of us moves. This is almost friendly.

“You don’t need to change your whole identity over one time,” I tell him, passing him what remains of the joint. “They call it experimenting for a reason.”

Pope’s hand stops halfway to his mouth. His eyes lift to mine. “Are you saying I should experiment?”