Page 35

“At the wrong spot,” he points out.

“The building is confusing.”

Lincoln snorts. “Okay, Q.”

The food comes quickly. I pick at the sandwich as Lincoln digs in. My stomach is still doing the butterfly thing, and I hate that I keep calling it that. There has to be a better name for it.

I should bring up something normal. Like his practice or French or who he’s dating, if he is. Maybe if he’s had any run-ins with Blue. But I don’t want to say his name and put that look back on Lincoln’s face again. So I ask the other thing instead, the question that’s been sitting on the tip of my tongue since Daniel hit the glass.

“How do you know,” I ask, “if you like someone?” I pick up a fry and take a small bite of it so I don’t add anything else.

Lincoln’s burger stops halfway between his plate and mouth.

“Like,” I add, because the first question might not be clear enough. “Like like. Not just…they’re fine to be around.”

He sets the burger down. Wipes his fingers slowly. Then looks at me the way he used to when we were younger and I brought him a bug in a jar and asked if he thought it was venomous.

“Do you have someone in mind already?” he asks. “Or are you asking for a friend?”

“I’m asking how a person might know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

I stare at my plate. “I recently found out that I might be demisexual. I looked it up, and it says that I can only like people if I know them first. I know lots of people. I don’t usually…” I gesture at my chest, uselessly. “This.”

Lincoln leans back and nods.

“Okay,” he says, slower. “For me, it was stupid stuff. I wanted to tell them things I didn’t need to tell them. I noticed when they walked into a room. I got pissed if someone else made them laugh. I thought about them when I should’ve been sleeping.” He shrugs. “And I wanted to be near them, even when it was inconvenient.”

Inconvenient.

“That sounds inefficient,” I say.

He laughs. “It is. Especially when the feelings don’t go away, even when they are assholes.”

I feel the same way he’s describing, about Daniel. At least I think I do.

“Is it always…physical too?” I ask, and my face goes hot. “Or can it just be thinking about them?”

Lincoln’s mouth twitches. “Depends. For a lot of people, crushes don’t go beyond thinking about the person. Because of fear or something else. And some people need a deeper connection and trust to feel more physically.” He watches me closely. “That sounding familiar?”

“Maybe.”

“Q.”

“I don’t have a name that I want to give you,” I say. “I’m collecting data.”

He huffs and picks up his burger again. “Collect as much data as your little brain needs. Just don’t collect it in Blue’s ice rink if you can help it.”

“It isn’t his ice rink.”

“Feels like it.” He takes a bite, talking around it. “Whoever it is. If they’re decent, fine. If they’re a hockey player, I’m going to need a minute.”

I look at my sandwich and pick the top off to peel off the tomato. “The ice rink and my question are not the same thing,” I lie.

He hums his agreement, but it doesn’t sound like he actually believes me. He doesn’t call me out though.

SEVENTEEN