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Evan caught it reflexively. “Thanks.”
Colin nodded. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Shit,” Evan muttered when he’d gone, and shucked off his jeans.
Colin staredinto the pot of soup warming on the stove, stirring by rote and mentally kicking himself. He knew he was acting weird, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He’d extended the invitation to the snowball fight because the kids had asked him to, and because he thought it might put things back on an even keel. And it had been fine, during the heat of battle. But now Evan was stripping down in his mudroom, and it didn’t matter that he’d done the same thing dozens of times before—it was different now.
They were different, now. And he didn’t know what to do about it.
“Smells good,” Evan said from behind him, and Colin dropped the whisk with a clatter. “Is that your tomato bisque?”
“Yeah. I froze some this summer.” He pulled the whisk out of the pot and grabbed a ladle. “You want?”
“I never turn down your soup,” Evan replied, and Colin filled the two thick, oversized mugs he’d already pulled from the cupboard. He set them on a tray, pulled out the half a baguette he’d had warming in the oven and laid it beside the mugs, then carried the tray to the breakfast nook. Evan was already there, perched in the chair on the far side of the table. He should’ve looked ridiculous in the too-short, too-tight sweats, but Colin had never felt less like laughing.
He set the tray down and picked up the warm baguette. “Bread?”
“God, yes,” Evan picked up his mug and blew on the contents. “I’m starving. Snowball fights work up an appetite.”
Nodding in agreement, Colin tore off a hunk of bread and handed it over before picking up his own mug. “There’s butter if you want it.”
“Who wouldn’t want butter?” Evan mumbled around a mouth full of bread, and Colin smiled into his soup.
They ate in silence for a moment, and some of the butterflies in Colin’s stomach went away as he filled it. They’d done this countless times before, sharing a snack in his kitchen, that it almost felt normal. Then he looked up and found Evan watching him, and just like that the butterflies were back.
“I’m sorry,” Evan blurted out before Colin could think of something to say. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Colin froze, then carefully lowered his mug.
Evan grimaced. “That was the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it? Shit. I’m sorry, I just…I don’t know what you want me to do.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Colin said carefully, and reached for the butter. “It’s fine.”
Evan rolled his eyes. “It’s not fine, Col. We haven’t talked in two weeks, and you can hardly look at me.”
“Well, it’s awkward,” Colin muttered, then deliberately lifted his gaze to meet Evan’s. The sadness in those dreamy blue eyes had guilt edging out the butterflies. “I’m sorry.”
Evan shook his head. “It’s not your fault. I got carried away. After the orgy, and what Tuck said…”
Colin frowned. “What did Tuck say?”
Evan fidgeted, dragging a hand through his tousled hair, then met Colin’s gaze. “He said you…have feelings for me.”
Colin just stared, having absolutely no idea what to say.
Evan shrugged, an awkward jerk of his shoulders. “And since I’ve had feelings for you since freshman year, I just thought—”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah.” A tinge of pink stained Evan’s cheeks, but his gaze was rock steady. “That first day, when we both stopped at the campus LGBTQ+ Club’s booth during orientation. You remember?”
“I remember,” Colin murmured. He’d been so relieved therewasan LGBTQ+ club. St. Thomas College might have been a liberal arts school, but it was also a Catholic one, and even though the school’s website had listed an LGBTQ+ club among its student organizations, he hadn’t been sure how that would look in real life.
“And I saw you,” Evan went on, fiddling with the handle of his mug, “signing up to volunteer for the homecoming booth. And I thought, him.”
“And you came to sign up, too.” Colin blinked. “Wait, you did?”
Evan nodded. “I’ve never stopped thinking it.”
