Page 52

Arlo picked at his sleeve as he refused to make eye contact with him.

“I mean, I guess I do kind of, like, stare at him sometimes?” He glanced up long enough to give Bren a mortified look before he went back to staring at his knees. “But, like, he’s supposed to be the leader of the tribe and I’m like the second in command or something. I don’t know, Cats is confusing. But, like, whenever he’s on stage I try to keep an eye on him because of that, and then there’s also this weird seam on his back where you can tell it’s two pieces of fabric sewn together because the pattern changes directions. So I tried to think, like, what might have happened to Old Deuteronomy to make that happen. Did he get into a fight with another cat and the scar made his fur pattern different there somehow? And—”

Bren silenced both his rambling boyfriend and the laugh he couldn’t hold back with a kiss, and after bristling like he was going to pull away, Arlo returned the pressure. Some of the tension left the car until Bren’s tongue eased into Arlo’s mouth, but he pulled away.

“Would you kiss me longer if I glued some shag carpet to my chest?”

Arlo narrowed his eyes like he was about to yell at him, but he laughed. Bren smiled, his heart filling with the light that came whenever he took away some of Arlo’s darkness.

When the laughter had run its course, Arlo unclicked his seatbelt and leaned over, resting his head against Bren’s. “Please never make me picture that again.”

“What? If you’re flirtin’ with Dustin, that means you like ’em hairy, and I wanna keep my man happy.”

The laughter didn’t rise above his lips this time, but Arlo’s eyes shone.

“So, you don’t think I was, like, subconsciously perving on him or something?”

It took all of Bren’s willpower not to sigh. Someone really needed to study the way Arlo’s brain worked one of these days.

“You’re forgetting I know what you’re like when you try to flirt, Robolad,” he said, pouring on enough honey so it would be impossible for Arlo to miss. It seemed to soften the blow, but the meaning was lost in all the worry. “You get out all your words when you talk to Dustin. Complete sentences, like.”

Arlo snorted and tapped his head against Bren’s before sitting back in his seat.

“OK, A.J. whisperer.”

The deadpan didn’t make for a convincing cover as warmth spread out from the core of Bren’s being.

“You’re good at a lot of things. But talkin’ to people you fancy isn’t one of them.”

“That must be why I’m having such an easy time talking to you right now, huh?”

Bren clutched his heart like Arlo had delivered a mortal wound, and their lips found each other in the laughter that followed.

By the time they leaned away from the center console, Bren had the impression that Arlo’s thoughts were slowing their downward spiral.

“Hey. If you’re not gonna listen to your boyfriend, listen to your best friend.” He kissed the back of Arlo’s hand. “Morgan’s just a bitter old bag. Fuckin’ cock-womble, like.”

Arlo’s laughter turned into a shudder. “Thanks for the peptalk, but I’m going to go ahead and veto you using that word.”

“Alright. How about chuckle-fuck?” Arlo shuddered again. “Or, what’s that other one Nat likes? Twat-waffle?”

“I’ll have no one left to flirt with soon,” Arlo said as he started the van back up, a smile on his face despite the exhaustion in his voice.

“Don’t forget about Rory or you’ll hurt his feelings.”

Arlo jerked the wheel and the van danced across the deserted street. “He and I actually make sense, but I’m a masochist apparently.”

“Good thing for me, really.”

The smile went to Arlo’s eyes as he turned The Cranberries back up.

“Good thing for both of us.”

24

Shame stuck to A.J.’s ribcage as he stared at the phone in his hand.

Hey, are you still up?