Brad felt giddy as he got into his car and drove home.

He felt a little bad for not letting Preston walk him to his car, but he had to be careful. He had a professional reputation to maintain, and while his private sessions with Preston hadn’t been at all because he was attracted to him, if anyone found out about it, they could get him into trouble. His work was his whole world, his life’s purpose—as cheesy as that sounded—and he didn’t want to jeopardize it.

Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to regret making out and, ah, basically dry humping Preston. He wasn’t usually impulsive like that, but Preston was nothing but impulses, and he seemed to bring that out in Brad. Just like Brad liked to think that he brought out the softer, more thoughtful side in Preston.

Preston really was improving. It made Brad happy, as it always did, to know that a student was really making strides. They’d addressed Preston’s feelings of loneliness and isolation, and his frustration at his father—frustration he was taking out on others.

Brad had every hope that as Preston continued to talk out these issues, he’d be able to let them go. Already, Preston was starting to make the connections for himself, and was taking steps to improve his situation so that he wasn’t tempted into anger.

It was hard not to be proud of him. And even harder to not give into what Brad knew they both wanted.

Would it really be so bad if he dated Preston?

Well, he couldn’t date him until after the whole class was over. It wasn’t like he was Preston’s college professor or anything. But there were still boundaries.

Brad couldn’t let the other people taking the class think that Preston received special or better treatment. And he had to make sure that he was a coach to Preston first, and a lover second.

But he couldn’t shake how much he’d loved the way Preston felt pressed against him, caging him in, kissing him like his life depended on it. He couldn’t forget how he loved the way he felt around Preston—not just safe, but valued. Preston had this way of looking at him like he thought Brad was someone special, and Brad honestly wasn’t sure what to do with that.

He supposed that it could just be infatuation. He was the person that Preston was talking to about his issues, after all. The first person, actually. There could be a certain measure of admiration there, a false sense of intimacy.

Yet for some reason, he didn’t think so. Maybe it was just that he didn’t want it to be true. He supposed that he could be deluding himself. But Preston didn’t strike him as the kind of person to easily hero-worship anybody, or to want to be intimate with someone just because they were his anger management coach or therapist or whatever.

It could be wishful thinking. He could allow that possibility. But it had been so long since he’d connected with anyone. Not just as a friend, but as a potential partner.

He hadn’t been with anyone since college, which he’d gone to out of state. He hadn’t done it to purposefully be far away from his parents, or to hide his sexuality from them. But it had worked out pretty nicely that way.

He’d had a boyfriend for almost a year, senior year. Great guy. But they’d both known they were going separate ways when they graduated, and what they each wanted for their lives just didn’t fit together.

But it had been nice, to be in a relationship. To have someone to hold and be held by. Someone to come home to at the end of the day.

Sex was great. It was really, really great. And Brad would have felt a little bad for having a hair trigger, except that Preston had been just as wrecked.

But it wasn’t just the sex that he had missed. It was that casual intimacy, that feeling of sharing your life with someone. He wanted to have that again, in some capacity.

Could Preston be the one to give that to him?

He’d been so unexpectedly sweet to Brad. First protecting him, and then trying to apologize about it, and then kissing him that first time, so softly, like he was worried he’d spook him. The way that he looked at Brad whenever Brad complimented him—like Brad was the moon, or something.

It was a little overwhelming, but in the best way. Especially because he didn’t think that Preston fully realized how he looked at him, how he spoke to him, the way his body language changed.

Brad had to be good at reading people, at recognizing their body language and tone of voice, especially in class. He had to be ready in case people were getting aggressive. And everything with how Preston treated him just screamed gentleness. It was so unexpectedly nice, and he really didn’t know what to do with it.

Except for enjoy it, he supposed.

Brad realized he was grinning like an idiot and felt himself blushing, even though nobody could see him. It had been ages since someone had liked him like this—mostly his fault, he knew—and he’d forgotten how good it felt.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get that smile off his face for the rest of the night.