I had never seen so many people upset about soda in my life.

You would think it would be a minor thing—“Sorry, our soda machine is broken today. It’ll be back tomorrow!” But at the Starlight Diner, it was practically apocalyptic.

“But I come here for an Italian soda every week!”

“What do you mean it’s broken—I can’t get an egg cream anywhere else in town—”

“It’s so hot out. You can’t be serious? You don’t even have any cola?”

The patrons of the Starlight Diner were not happy without their Italian soda. Combine that with the fact that our second server didn’t show up to work today, and we had an utter disaster. Jason was the only other server who had as much experience as I did, and today he’d called in, groveling, saying he’d come down with a stomach flu.

All day it had been just me, alone except for the busboys who pitched in to help me out up front, and customer after customer who left disappointed.

My mom had also called me in the morning to inform me that another distant cousin had gotten married, and she’d proceeded to ask me, through tears, why I couldn’t just meet a nice girl like he did. My being gay didn’t seem like a good enough reason to her.

So, yes, today had been a bit of a shit sandwich, and even though my shift was nearly over, nothing felt any better. After hauling another crate of milk out to the front bar area, I stood up, wiping sweat from my forehead, and took a long breath in.

It was nearly four o’clock. The diner was finally starting to empty out. Most of our customers came around brunch time, but for some reason, that seemed to last all the way until three most days. For the first time in hours, I was able to catch my breath, survey the back bar, and realize what a damn mess everything had become.

My shift ended in a half hour. I had my work cut out for me.

And then, of course, I heard the front door swing open behind me. For a second I let myself breathe in peace before I had to turn and face yet another customer who would likely be inordinately upset about soda.

But when I turned around to face the front, I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Zane!” I said, so loud that an elderly woman in a booth by the window turned to raise an eyebrow at me.

But I couldn’t help it. There he was—so tall and composed, staring at me from across the bar. And I was certain I looked like a tired, wet rat right about now.

“Hi, Sebastian,” he said.

“You made it,” I replied, still just staring at him. “Welcome. You won’t regret coming. I can give you my discount, too—I use it with all my friends. I mean, I know we’ve only known each other for a couple days, but I’d say you’re my friend. I mean, I hope we can be—”

I stopped myself, feeling my cheeks go hot. I was running my mouth, and I knew it. Zane was just looking at me, saying nothing, probably wondering when I was going to shut up. He took a seat on one of the stools at the bar.

I pushed my hair back with my fingers, quickly checking myself in the reflective chrome of the espresso machine. Jesus, I had not been prepared to see anyone I knew, let alone Zane. His presence had immediately changed the surroundings, and suddenly everything around me felt slightly not-good-enough, slightly too haphazard.

It made me see everything in a different light and wonder how the diner seemed through his eyes. How I seemed.

I pushed a menu in front of him. “What can I get you? I’m sorry we don’t have the Italian sodas today, but we have a great BLT, and our ice cream is pretty good, and if you like pie, you’re in luck—”

“Sebastian, it’s okay,” he said. His eyes were staring too deep into me again.

“What?” I said, blinking at him. The early evening sun filtered through the window, casting Zane in a golden glow, giving a surreal texture to the moment. He looked gorgeous. And something about his presence made me act like a skittish animal.

“It’s okay,” he repeated in a calm voice. “Clearly you just finished a rush here. You can take care of things first. I didn’t mean to… to inconvenience you or anything.”

“Oh, God, no,” I stammered. “I mean—yes, things have been nuts here today, but you’re… you’re not an inconvenience. Really, what can I get you?”

He ordered a half-caf coffee and a slice of apple pie. I poured him a mug and warmed a slice of pie for him while he leafed through a copy of the Ellisville Gazette that had been left on the bartop by a previous customer. As he sipped his coffee, I couldn’t help myself from stealing glances at him. He only caught me doing it once.

When I’d suggested he stop by the diner, I had never imagined he would take me up on the offer. He seemed like the kind of guy who would rather be on his own, and even now that he was here, I could sense that he was uncomfortable.

But he was also lonely. I knew it because he’d told me about his breakup, but I also knew it because I could feel it. Loneliness radiated out from underneath his calm, collected exterior. His eyes were penetrating, sure, but there was also a sadness in them when he looked at me. That was the part that was so magnetic to me. He seemed like he needed a big, tight hug, even though he also seemed like he’d run far away if I ever tried to give him one.

And that had to be why he had shown up at the diner. It didn’t have anything to do with me, probably—more likely, he just needed something to do. I knew I should have left him alone, but a few moments later, I found myself unable to shut my mouth again.

“So, are you bored yet?” I asked as I slid the plate of pie in front of him. He met my eyes, one eyebrow quirked up.

“Huh?”

“Are you bored with Ellisville yet? Clearly you were bored enough to stop by the diner,” I said, smiling.

“Oh, oh,” he replied. “No, of course not. This town definitely isn’t exactly my speed, but… today was okay, actually. I saw Colby and Erica for lunch in the park.”

I started cleaning behind the bar as I talked with him. Something about keeping busy made the conversation seem less intimidating. Either that, or it just stopped me from feeling the magnetic pull of his gaze, which was far too deep a distraction while I was working. He paused for a while as he skimmed the newspaper, finally setting it down and taking a bite of the pie.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him shaking his head. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbled under his breath, looking down at the slice of pie.

There was that same heat in my cheeks again.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s just a simple pie—probably nothing compared to the places you’ve got out in LA. But our cook Bessie does make all of them herself.”

His eyes darted up to meet mine. “No, this is one of the best slices of pie I’ve ever had in my life,” he said, immediately digging his fork back in.

I felt a welling in the bottom of my chest that I realized slowly was pride. “You like it?” I said.

“I love it,” he replied, taking another mouthful.

“Bessie will be so happy to hear that,” I said.

He liked it. He actually liked it. For some reason, I felt proud. It felt like I had done something right, like Ellisville had done something right, like maybe we weren’t just bound to be small-town simpletons in Zane’s eyes.

I kept working as Zane finished the slice in record time, cleaning the plate completely. I turned toward the back counter, hiding my big, goofy smile. I went over and cut a bigger slice, slid it into a plastic to-go container, and set it on the counter in front of Zane.

“On the house,” I said. “You can take that one home.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, viewing the slice as if I’d just given him a bar of solid gold.

“Positive. It’ll make Bessie’s day tomorrow to hear a guy from the big city loved her pie.”

“Thank you, Sebastian,” he said softly. “You’re too good to me.” After a few moments, he went back to the newspaper, perusing it with care, while I worked.

You’re too good to me. I drank the words in, like hot chocolate on a snowy day. There was something immediately intoxicating about getting a compliment like that from a man who was usually so stern.

I knew that I should leave him alone. I knew he probably just wanted to read in peace, without me bothering him. But if I didn’t talk to him, I ran the risk of staring at his jawline or the way the muscles in his arm moved as he reached out to grab his coffee mug….

I was screwed either way. And when have I ever been able to keep quiet when I should?

“So what’s the latest Ellisville news?” I asked, wiping off the back counter.

He glanced up. “Well,” he said, looking back at the paper, “the biggest headline is about a local goat farm. There is a new baby goat. They named it Alfie.”

“Well, isn’t that special,” I replied, grinning. “And yes, if you’re wondering, that does count as big news in this town.”

“I’ve only been here a couple days, but that doesn’t surprise me one bit,” he said.

“You should have seen what happened last month. It was a goddamn Ellisville news marathon.”

“What happened? Did people find a baby frog in the middle of a street or something?”

“No,” I said, grinning, “This one was at least a little more eventful. A small plane crash occurred—a tiny plane with an independent pilot, out on a sightseeing trip. It wasn’t even a crash, really. Something malfunctioned in the engine, and the plane had to land in a random open field. The guy was perfectly fine. But, Zane, the papers were full of news about it for days.”

He groaned, smiling. “How do you do it?” he said, shaking his head. “How do you live here?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know any other way of life,” I said.

“But you’re so…” he trailed off, waving his hand vaguely toward me.

“So what?” I asked, feeling a smile creep over my face.

For the first time, I thought I was actually seeing Zane become a little flustered. It was achingly adorable. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “You’re so… energetic. And intelligent. And, I don’t know, stylish, I guess.”

“People do tend to notice me around here,” I said.

“Hell, I’d notice you even in LA,” Zane said.

“You would?”

His gaze was cast downward again, thick lashes obscuring his eyes. “I think I would, yeah.”

It took me a minute to process that information before I could reply. “Well, thank you, I think,” I said.

“It just seems like things might be hard here for… people like us,” he said, finally looking up at me again.

I nodded slowly. “They can be,” I said. “I’m sure Colby told you about what happened to me a couple years back.”

Zane shook his head. “No, actually,” he said. “He… he mentioned some scandal, but told me he’d rather not talk about it behind your back.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I said, waving a hand. “Colby knows I’d tell anyone that. I tell random customers about it all the time.”

He was looking at me closely. “What… what happened, Sebastian?” he asked. For once, his genuine interest seemed to outshine his usual reserved demeanor. He really wanted to know. He wanted to know about my life. For some reason, that felt different than when random locals asked me about the scandal.

I wanted him to ask about my life, I realized. And I wanted to give him the most honest answer I could.

I checked the time on the old clock hanging above the bar.

“Tell you what,” I said. “I’ve got ten minutes left on my shift. Come grab a beer with me afterwards, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

He shook his head quickly. “Oh. No, that’s okay. I better be getting back, anyway.”

I grinned at him, leaning over the counter. “Oh, come on, you don’t want to just get one drink? I promise, I don’t bite—”

“I can’t, Sebastian,” he said, his voice firm. “I just can’t.” His eyes were down again; the shields were fully up. It was like witnessing someone turn into stone before your eyes.

“Oh,” I said, standing up straight again, moving away. “Okay. I understand.”

I didn’t understand. I supposed that had been too much to ask. He’d already come to the diner, but actually going to get a drink with me was apparently something too different.

“Sorry—” I said, excusing myself and heading back to the kitchen behind the bar. I leaned against the cool wall behind me, taking a deep breath and squeezing my eyes shut.

I didn’t really know what I was doing with Zane. If he were just any guy who’d come into the diner, I would have likely been flirting with him. But this was someone I had to spend lots of time with, to be a groomsman with.

I already knew that I didn’t have a filter when I spoke to people. I was always oversharing, talking too much, telling people too much about myself. I knew full well that many people found me overbearing, and worse, others found me obnoxious.

But something about Zane made me want to keep talking to him. For a moment his eyes would seem so inviting, so truly interested in what I had to say, and then in an instant, it would flash away.

It didn’t matter, though. I shouldn’t have cared so much about what he thought—all I needed to do was make sure he was a good groomsman for the wedding, and my job was done.

I made my way back out front just in time to see Zane standing up. He fished through his wallet and dropped cash on the bar. “Good night, Sebastian,” he said, and in an instant, he was gone again, out the door as quickly as he’d come in.

I could practically feel myself deflating.

I only had a few more things left to clean up before my shift was over, and I dove into it, trying to ignore the voice in my head that kept saying I’d asked too much of Zane, that I’d assumed we were already friends when really, we weren’t.

When I finally got around to cleaning up his area, I noticed that he’d left a twenty-dollar bill. The pie had only been a few bucks, and the coffee less than a dollar.

“Christ,” I muttered. I didn’t know if 400% tips were common in LA or not, but something in me told me they weren’t. Zane had said I was too good to him, but clearly he was being too good to me.

I finished my shift in a daze and finally was able to clock out. I changed my clothes in the employee restroom because I didn’t think I could stand to smell like coffee and pie anymore even for the walk home.

After saying goodbye to everyone, I pushed out through the front door, onto the street, and turned the corner.

And I ran smack into Zane, who was coming just as quickly in my direction.

“Shit!” I shouted, jumping back slightly. “I’m so sorry—”

“No, I’m sorry—” he was saying.

We stared at each other for a split second, each of us dazed and awkward and speechless.

And then I couldn’t help but let out a long laugh, a release I’d been waiting for. I scrubbed my hands over my face, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” Zane repeated, and when I finally met his eyes again, I saw that his were apologetic. “I’m sorry I left so quick. I was… I was going to come back to apologize, and I was so afraid you’d have left already.”

“Well, I had left, but I suppose you found me anyway.”

“And I suppose my method of apology consisted of smacking into you.”

I smiled. “I forgive you, Zane.”

“Then… let’s go for that drink, after all?” he said. It seemed like it was taking him a ton of effort to say it, as if he’d had to work up the nerve to force it out. And for some reason, that meant so much to me—the fact that this was hard for Zane, that it didn’t feel natural, but he wanted to do it anyway.

“You sure?” I asked.

He nodded quickly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m very sure,” he said. I could tell by the way he was looking at me that it was the truth.

“You don’t actually though,” I said, trying to hold back a laugh.

“I do,” Zane said, grinning at me over his glass of whiskey. “I actually love going to the ballet. We get such beautiful performances in Los Angeles, and I’m telling you, every time I go see one, I’m more amazed than the last. It almost feels meditative, sitting and watching such precise gracefulness on stage in front of you.”

“God,” I said, shaking my head. “The only ballet I’ve ever seen is the type four-year-olds do because their parents make them. I can’t imagine how nice a real performance would be.”

We were in the back of The Cedar Bar and Grill, which was one of three bars in Ellisville. It had always been my favorite just because of the ambiance: cozy and homey, with low lighting, intimate booths, and comfortable barstools. All of the wood was dark and old, and instead of having sports blaring from TVs all the time, the bar just relied on the music from a big jukebox near the back. Most people chose old songs from the ‘40s, ‘50s, and ‘60s, and occasionally, people would actually bring in their guitars and play live acoustic music.

Even when I didn’t feel like I fit in Ellisville, I always felt okay when I was here. And it felt downright magical sitting in a small booth across from Zane, the dim glow of the lamp above us casting his face in a soft light.

And I don’t know if it was the alcohol, the ambiance, or the company, but Zane actually seemed happy, too. He was opening up, telling me little tidbits about his life, actually laughing with me.

We had lapsed into silence for a moment, the sounds of the bar floating around us. It didn’t feel like an uncomfortable silence at all—in fact, I realized that this was probably the most comfortable I’d ever been around Zane, so far.

“Thank you for inviting me out, Sebastian,” he said, his face earnest, almost apologetic. “I’m used to being on my own, but this is… what I needed.”

“Of course,” I replied. “I almost forgot. I’m supposed to be telling you my little sob story, aren’t I?”

Zane laughed. “It’s fine—if you aren’t in the mood, we can save it for another time.”

“No, no, it’s what we came here for, after all,” I said. “I don’t mind telling you, Zane. I’m an open book.”

“Okay,” he responded. “So… what happened?”

I took a swig from my margarita, preparing to launch into the story.

“All right,” I said, setting the big glass down. “As you probably know by now, Ellisville doesn’t have much in the way of lodging. There is the place you’re staying now—the actual lodge itself, and other than that, there are only a couple tiny motels on either side of town,” I said.

“Mhm,” Zane said, eyes focused on me.

“So, most people in Ellisville would have no reason to go to a small motel on the edge of town. It’s pretty far off the beaten path, and if you already live here, why would you need to?”

“Right,” Zane said.

“I had met a man named David—he was a regular at the diner—who I had hit it off with. We’d talk all the time, share stories, I got along with him. I’d always thought it was just a friendship, of course, until one night, when it was just me and him in the diner, he confessed to me that he was attracted to me.”

“How romantic,” Zane said, smiling.

I cocked my head to one side. “Not really. He’d had a bit to drink, and the exact words he used were, ‘When are you going to let me fuck you, Sebastian?’”

Zane was trying to keep his face neutral, but I could see his eyes widen just the slightest bit.

“I know,” I said. “Now, I don’t get a lot of… action in Ellisville. So when this offer was made, I pretty quickly decided that I would take him up on it. The thing is, he only wanted to go meet me at this little motel at the edge of town. But… beggars can’t be choosers, so I went along with him. And… we did our thing.”

Zane raised an eyebrow. “Did your thing?”

“We fucked. It was fine and good, end of story, right?”

“I’m guessing that’s not the end of the story,” Zane said.

“Bingo,” I replied. “So, we did this little song and dance for the next few weeks. Every couple of nights, we’d meet up at the motel, rent a room for two hours, and have our fun.”

“So far, so good,” Zane said.

“Here’s when it went wrong, though. One day we were at the motel during the afternoon, and while we were in there, a bear had wandered over onto the motel property.”

“Oh God,” Zane said.

“I think in most towns, this might not have been such a big deal. But this is Ellisville. The local news always needs something to do. So… unbeknownst to us, a small news crew was right outside our motel room, setting up cameras and reporting on the bear that had run wild on the motel grounds. And… um…” I trailed off, feeling my cheeks get hot for the first time.

“What is it?” Zane asked.

This was the part of the story that I normally laughed through with strangers—I didn’t care what most people thought about me, but with Zane, I actually found myself slightly nervous.

Good Lord, I cared way too much what this man thought of me, and I had no idea why. I took another big sip of the margarita and then leaned over the table closer toward Zane.

“Well… I can be a little bit… loud. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m pretty talkative in general, but when I… when I’m with someone, I can be very loud.”

Zane couldn’t even hide his eyes from widening now as he slowly realized what I meant.

“I’m loud when I come,” I said, throwing my arms up in a big shrug. Fuck it. If I couldn’t be honest with Zane, what was the point? “And so, as this mini news crew was set up right outside the paper-thin walls of this motel room, they heard me… coming. Unmistakably saying this guy’s name, moaning, I mean—you get it.”

Zane reached for his whiskey, nearly knocked the glass over, then took a big, long swig.

“And we had no idea that a news crew was outside the room. So… when we both walked out together, our hair still clearly messed up, we walked right into the crew. Who had just been listening to every sound I’d made.”

Zane coughed, then cleared his throat. “Wow. Brutal,” he said.

“I know.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then finally spoke. “Something like that caused a huge scandal, though?”

“Well,” I continued, holding up a finger. “If it were just me, I would have laughed it off. But there is one key piece of information you need to know, here.”

“Okay….”

“David wasn’t just anybody. He was… well, he was the mayor.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Exactly. He was the mayor of Ellisville. Who had just been elected. Everyone in the town knew him. And he was still very, very much in the closet—nobody knew he was gay, and he didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Fuck,” Zane repeated, sitting back a little.

I nodded. “The news crew didn’t report about any of this, of course. I know Ellisville news is different than other places, but they weren’t exactly going to run a headline saying Mayor Turns Out To Be Totally Gay. But word spread. Really, really fucking quickly. Within two days after that, people were coming up to him in the street to ask if the rumors were true. And after four days, pretty much the entire town knew.”

“Wow,” Zane said, furrowing his brow. “Did he… face discrimination? Were people hostile?”

I shook my head. “Not outwardly hostile, not violent. But people acted as if he’d kept a secret from them. Started treating him as if they couldn’t trust him. And more than anything, his feelings were the ones that were at risk. He wasn’t ready to be out as gay. I don’t know if he ever would have come out unless he was forced to. Understandably, he was really fucking upset.”

Zane nodded.

“After that night, he… never spoke to me again,” I said. This was the only part of the story that I actually wasn’t so comfortable with. “We’d been friends for a long damn time, and then we’d been intimate, and then… in a snap, it was all gone. He dropped me completely. Wouldn’t even answer a call from me. And then within a few weeks, he had resigned as mayor and left town. That was two years ago, and I haven’t heard a word from him since.”

“Holy shit,” Zane said, his voice quiet. “So… you were left to deal with the wreckage of the rumor mill, all alone.”

I nodded. “I can take it,” I said. “I’ve been different my whole life, and I’ve never really been shy about telling people I’m gay. I’m used to being seen as ‘other.’ But he wasn’t.”

He shook his head slowly. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Sebastian,” he said. “Whether or not you’re used to it, I’m sure that affects your day-to-day life, even still.”

“I appreciate it,” I said.

“Really,” Zane stressed, leaning forward a little across the table, meeting my eyes. “You’re incredibly strong to have dealt with all this. And you still… you seem so happy. It’s kind of amazing, Sebastian.”

God, my cheeks were hot now. There were Zane’s eyes, as usual, making me feel like I was coming unraveled in front of him all over again. It wasn’t just that Zane was acknowledging me as a person, but there was almost a reverence in his eyes, an empathy and tenderness that shocked me to my core.

Fuck, it had been so long since anyone looked at me like that. It stirred something inside me deep down, something that I guess I’d numbed myself to a long time ago. It was a warmth in my chest, a feeling like I was understood, that I could trust this man in front of me.

And then a really bad, bad thing happened. I hadn’t been expecting it, and it crept up on me silently and stealthily. But it was undeniable.

I was wondering what it would be like to kiss Zane.

I could picture it. Leaning over the small table, taking his cheek in my hand, pressing my lips to his. His full lips were probably so fucking soft. And I had no doubt in my mind that he would be a good kisser.

The alcohol and the low light and his empathy were all too much and had combined into some potent concoction that made me want him.

And I really, really wasn’t supposed to want him.

“Uh,” I said, breaking eye contact. “Thanks.” I picked up my margarita and tossed the rest of it back neatly, giving myself brain freeze in the process. Shit. I had not realized how much drink I still had left, and I knew I’d just finished nearly half a margarita in one fell swoop.

“We should get out of here, yeah?” I said, already fishing for my wallet. It was an attempt to change the pace, change the scenery and lighting, so that I wouldn’t continue down the same path I had been on before, admiring the way Zane’s cheekbones and jawline looked under the lamp, wondering how damn soft his lips might be against mine.

I needed a cold shower.

“Oh,” Zane said, clearly a little shocked by my sudden change of pace. “Sure thing.” Zane finished his whiskey, and we paid our bill before stepping out onto the street. I was almost surprised to see that it was nighttime already. The time spent with Zane had melted away, and I felt like I was in a heightened reality, like a dream state.

“So, uh—” I stammered as we stopped outside the bar, unsure of how to act.

“That was really good,” Zane said.

I nodded quickly. “It was fun!” I said, my voice far too high-pitched. “Nice to talk with you one-on-one.”

“It really was,” he said, his voice deep and steady as ever. My plan to change the pace had failed, of course, because he still looked just as good outside—maybe even better—under the glow of the street lamps. And now that we were standing facing one another, his height was even more obvious. His presence was as intoxicating as the margarita had been.

Why on earth had his ex-boyfriend left him? The guy must have been nuts to give up someone like Zane.

“I appreciate you telling me your story, too,” Zane was saying.

“Glad I didn’t talk your ear off,” I said with a forced laugh. “I know sometimes I should shut my mouth. Kinda have a bad filter sometimes.”

“Of course you didn’t talk my ear off,” Zane said, shaking his head. He took a step closer toward me, and I swear I almost jumped—not because I was scared of him, but because I was scared of what I might feel if he was that close to me.

But I kept still. Tried to remain calm, even as he came in closer.

“I like you, Sebastian,” he said as I felt myself disintegrating inside. “I know I can seem very… cold, sometimes, but it’s just because of… recent events in my life. But I want you to know that I do like you.”

“I—I like you too,” I said. I was amazed that I was able to get the words out. I knew that Zane had just meant it casually. He wasn’t professing a crush on me or saying he wanted to fuck me or anything like that. All he was doing was saying he liked me as a friend or acquaintance. This was such strange territory for me—being nervous just from someone saying they liked me—but it felt so much more hard-won coming from Zane.

Because he had seemed like stone. He was right that he’d seemed cold and cut-off, like someone who would never deign to talk to me, let alone like me.

So now that he was finally opening up, I guess it made sense that it felt so electric. I felt like I was winning a prize, like I must have finally done something right.

Or like maybe, I was special enough. Special enough to warrant his attention.

“What else are you doing tonight?” he asked, turning his head to look at the street around us. “I don’t have a lot going on, obviously, but I should at least check back on Jelly at the lodge….”

“Oh, fuck,” I said, smacking my hand to my forehead. Mom. I’d completely forgotten that I was supposed to help her out after my shift. I reached for my phone and saw that she’d called twice.

“What is it?” Zane asked.

“Shit. I—uh… I forgot to bring my mom eggs and milk after my shift.”

“Your mom?”

“She has a hard time getting around, and I’m kind of all she has in the way of help. I bring her groceries most of the time, and I promised her I’d bring some tonight, and… she’s really not going to be happy.”

Zane shrugged. “She’ll understand. Not a big deal, right?”

I shook my head. “It shouldn’t be a big deal, but if you knew my mother, you’d know it was. Fuck. I’ll… I’ll see you later, Zane, okay?”

He nodded, and I pretended not to see the disappointment in his eyes.

I wished I could stay with him. I wished I could stay for the rest of the night, wished I could talk with him over drinks as we got tipsier. The more I got to know Zane, the more I liked him, and tonight had almost seemed magical.

A little too magical, honestly. I knew that I was likely doing what I usually did—moving a million miles a minute, way too fast, rushing things that didn’t need to be rushed. Of course my instinct was to flirt with Zane. He was hotter than fucking hell, he was surprisingly sensitive, and he was single and visiting my town.

But I knew I was reckless sometimes. Zane had also just broken up with someone, was in my damn groomsmen party, and—the real problem—most likely felt nothing toward me except nascent friendship.

I likely would have said something I’d regretted if we’d hung out more tonight. At least that’s what I told myself as I rushed to the store and then over to my mom’s house.

It would be best if I kept every shred of attraction to Zane my own secret, locked inside me where it belonged.