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His heart thumps steadily against my cheek, and I clench my fingers, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him.
“Did it…” he trails off, clearly unsure.
I tilt my head back, peering up at his hidden face. “Did it what?”
I sense him fidgeting, and I frown.
“Did it have anything to do with…earlier? What happened back at the tree, I mean.”
I tense, grateful for the dark pressing in on us, preventing him from seeing my face.
And me from seeing his.
I forgot about that.
And here I am, half sprawled out in his lap.
“Skyler,” he says, and I sense his hand move—lift—like he might cup my cheek. He must think better of it, though, because it fades back into the shadows. “You know I don’t care, right?” he whispers.
And I can’t help it. I flinch.
He stiffens. “What—”
“Sorry. Not you. It’s just…” My face bunches, and I shake my head. “That’s what my parents said. When I told them what happened. It was right before I…I tried to—”
This time, he does touch me. Just two fingers curled under my chin, that somehow hold the weight of a thousand wishes in it. He lifts my gaze to his, and it’s dark, so dark, yet I can feel his gaze touching mine.
Does he feel mine too?
“Bad phrasing. Got it. What I mean is I’m okay with it. You being…” He trails off pointedly.
I nod. “Gay.”
He relaxes at that, releasing my chin. “Yes, gay. I have no issue with it. Please know that.”
Throat thick, I nod and lower my gaze.
“Is that why they sent you there?”
I shake my head. “No.” Shifting around, I get more comfortable and rub my cheek into his pec.
He sucks in a breath, and I tense, cringing.Shit.
But he quickly relaxes once more, adjusting his hold on me.
“They didn’t exactly advertise it, what they were doing. It was really just a…shitty coincidence, I suppose, that I ended up getting that…treatment.”
“Conversion therapy,” he says softly.
I nod. “They called it reparative therapy. It’s probably how they fly under the radar. It’s just small print under a list of things they have to offer for troubled youth.”
“But isn’t that illegal?”
I shrug. “Technically…no. At least, not in Indiana from what I read.”
“Fucking hell.” A beat passes, then, “Is that where you’re from?”
“Yeah. What about you?”
