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When did I stop being the person he let in?
“Did, um,” I clear my throat, and Shiloh looks up. “Did they have a good relationship?”
He frowns and crosses his arms. “I’d say not. Dad has always been an asshole to everyone. I don’t know why he doesn’t leave the old man to rot.”
“Blair likes to take care of people,” I find myself saying.
Shiloh rolls his eyes but doesn’t rebut. He walks over to the locker and pulls out his sweat towel, then takes his water bottle and dumps a quarter of it over the towel. Then, he holds it out to me, and I press the material between my palms.
“I can take care of people, too,” he mutters, and I duck my head to kiss his temple, which gets me a firm swat on the side and a warm laugh. “Fuck you, Atty.”
“Sorry, Loh,” I say with a grin. “You don’t swing that way.”
I wink and expect him to rib me again, but instead he goes stock still, eyes widening and lips parting like he’s going to protest. No words come out, and eventually he snaps his jaw shut.
He’s silent for a few minutes, staring at the ground and idly unwrapping his hands. When he speaks it’s more of a grunt as he gingerly grabs my wrist and leads us to the community kitchen. He walks away but comes back a few seconds later with actual bandage wrap, and without a word takes my hands and—after making me wash them in the sink—wraps them up until it looks like I’ve got an actual injury.
“This is overkill.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Still, I laugh at the pout on his lips that I don’t think he even notices is there.
“I love you, Loh. You know that, right?”
He looks up and smiles. “Shut the fuck up,” he repeats. “Answer a question for me. Since you’re into guys now.”
I fight not to roll my eyes because as big of a dick as Shiloh can be at times, I know he doesn’t mean it in a nasty way.
“Shoot.”
He hops up onto the kitchen counter, kicking his legs against the cupboards. “What is it about them that you like?”
“About guys?”
“Yeah. You know, is it muscles? Do you have a thing for dick?”
I scrub a hand over my face and groan. “Loh.”
“No.” His expressions swim with confusion and indecision. “I don’t mean it like that. I mean…” He huffs a stray curl out of his eyes. “Your type?”
“I don’t think I have one,” I say, planting my hands on the counter on either side of him. “Most guys are nice to look at, I guess.”
He cocks his head, then leans it back to meet my eyes. “What about Blair?”
A tight knot forms in my chest. “Blair?”
“You two spent the night together the other night.”
I smile and ruffle his hair. “Yeah. Because he was hammered and you took my car.”
Shiloh wraps his arms around my middle, burying his face in my neck and nearly knocking me into the counter.
“Nothing happened between you two?”
Shit. I can beat around the bush, but I don’t know if I can outright lie to him. Plus he’s been emotional as hell while his medicine balances out, and the last thing I want to do is hurt his feelings.
“Atty?” His voice is a wrecked whisper, and while I don’t know what’s brought all this on, I know that right this second comforting my best friend is more important than keeping things from him.
