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He nuzzled deeper into Bren’s shoulder. It was weird to smell Downy on him, but there was still the spritz of Lynx Africa and a hint of sweat that made A.J.’s heart swell—even if it mourned the missing notes of turf.

He ran his hand along the back of Bren’s hand and their fingers laced together. “It’s just—if things went even a little bit different, you wouldn’t be here right now. Doesn’t that freak you out?”

His head jostled when Bren shrugged.

“So now you’re worrying about things that . . . didn’t happen?”

“I’m being dumb.”

“I mean, yeah.”

“Hey!”

He really did think it was a stupid thing to worry about, but he had thought that Bren would at least try to understand.

There wasn’t time to sulk before Bren wrapped both arms around him and twisted him. A.J. ended up on his back while Bren grinned above him. He pretended to struggle, but it took only the slightest pushback from Bren for his arms to fall back to the bed.

“I dunno what to do about a world where you didn’t make it to Glenbridge,” he said and leaned down so their lips brushed together for a tortuous second. “But you really think I woulda left your cute arse alone just cause we didn’t have classes together? Are you forgettin’ how we met?”

A.J. was back in the front yard of Glenbridge Comp, his too-starched uniform biting into his neck as a guy way too cute and far too popular to be talking to him for good reasons was yammering on about his discman.

“What even made you talk to me back then?”

Despite all the time they’d spent together since that day, he’d never thought to ask.

Bren shook his head, shifting so his knees were bearing more of his weight, which A.J.’s stomach thanked him for.

“You really don’t know how cute you looked in that uniform, do you?”

A.J.’s cheeks turned the same colour as Bren’s hair. He still didn’t understand how Bren saw him like that, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue the sentiment.

“But you didn’t even know you liked dudes then.”

“Nope!” Bren said, like he was laughing at that version of himself. “Told myself I thought you could use a mate. The cute thing was probably somewhere in the background, though.”

Bren’s hand found his still-burning cheeks and his fingertips trailed along his soft stubble.

“Front and center now, though.” He leaned down for a kiss but stopped himself. His eyes darted to the side and he straightened back up. “You changed me, Arlo.”

“Like a handprint on your heart?”

He’d tried to hold the Wicked lyric back, but it was just too perfect. Bren groaned and flopped down so their foreheads pressed together.

“You’re not gonna stop till I’m gay all the way, are you?”

They stared at each other. A.J. blinked at him with the most innocent look he could manage—even if there was a Bren-like smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Bren grumbled and, defeated, sang out his reply.

“I have been changed, for good.”

“Aww!” A.J. said, his voice dripping. “Look at Bren O’Shea being all sentimental.”

“Yeah, ’cause you gave me a real choice, like.”

It was A.J. who pulled them into a kiss this time, and when he was done pretending to sulk, Bren met him with a moan. He rolled onto his side as the kiss ebbed and flowed, their lips long since mastering the rhythm of their partner.

The strange flutter of anxiety that came with the thought of a life without Bren hadn’t been erased by their words, but it was certainly harder to dwell on it for now.

“Lad,” Bren said, pulling A.J. out of the bliss he’d settled into.