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“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t—”

Bren kissed his lips now, and even though he didn’t feel like he deserved it, A.J. let himself melt into it.

“D’you forget we already did this?” Bren asked when the warmth receded. A.J. made himself take a breath, and he turned his head so they were facing each other, even if he was having trouble meeting Bren’s gaze. “I know you’re up in your head, thinkin’ you ‘turned me bi’ and made my life harder.” He leaned forward and kissed the tip of A.J.’s nose, then shook his head. “You’re a fit lad, Arlo, but not that fit. No one is.”

The counter argument died on A.J.’s lips when he noticed Bren’s eyes shining at him like he couldn’t see the cost of the path they’d set down from their very first kiss. Tears clouded A.J’s vision as the truth hit him. Bren wasn’t an idiot, no matter what he said to the contrary. He saw the cost of their relationship and decided it was worth it. From the look in his eyes, the debt growing between the two of them wasn’t anything more than an afterthought, so what was the point in continually shoving it under his nose?

A.J. kissed him this time, his hands wrapping around Bren’s back as his tongue parted Bren’s lips. A thought occurred to him as the rhythm of their embrace slowed, and he grinned. “What about Mickie?”

Bren’s eyes fluttered open, confused.

“What about him?”

“You said there wasn’t a lad fit enough to turn you. But, like, we haven’t seen Mickie give it a go. Those ears and some silk boxers. A box of chocolates? Maybe that’s your secret sauce and we just won’t ever be able to find out.”

There was one ringing second of silence, then they laughed.

A.J. had to slap a hand over his mouth and Bren followed suit, which only made the urge to laugh stronger.

When the moment had passed, A.J. leaned his head against Bren’s shoulder.

“You’re a weird fuckin’ lad, Arlo.”

“And you picked me. What’s that say about you?” Bren kissed the top of his head but didn’t get to answer before A.J. added, “You know, I’m pretty normal. In some ways anyway.”

“Like?” Bren asked, stifling a yawn.

Seriously, how was he tired after all that caffeine?

“Like when my boyfriend shows up at two in the morning because he thinks I might have needed him?” A.J. cuddled close to Bren, one leg draped across his lap as he leaned in to brush his lips against his neck. “It makes me want to . . . thank him.”

Bren’s skin flushed.

“Arlo, you don’t have t—”

A.J. kissed away his objection and pulled him closer, his tongue pushing forwards to meet Bren’s.

“Let your boyfriend be normal, OK?” He kissed him deeper, a grin spreading across his face. “Unless you’re saying you want things to get weird.”

Bren laughed against his lips and wrapped his arms around A.J.’s back. After a muffled grunt and a flourish of covers, A.J. was looking into Bren’s hazel eyes.

He still had trouble meeting them sometimes. They were so often shining with laughter or filled with affection that he still couldn’t believe was meant for him. Then there were those times when they filled with a flame that A.J. was sure never crossed his own. Crackling and fierce, like it might devour everything around it if it was ever left to rage out of control.

What might it be like to be burned by that fire?

And why did he want to find out?

25

“A.J.? Are you awake?”

When the words had reached A.J., their meaning was muddled by the lingering tendrils of sleep’s cushy embrace. He tried to call back and tell Dad yes, but a sleep-muffled grunt came instead.

Long since a master of tired teen speak, Dad took the reply for what it was.

“Didn’t mean to wake you. Do you mind if I let Rudy in? He’s got a bug up his butt about seeing you this morning.”

His next grunt was halfway out of his mouth when his brain made sense of why he was so warm and happy. The room came into focus as adrenaline burned off all traces of grogginess. Bren’s face was inches from the crook of his neck, mouth parted as a trickle of drool pooled on the pillow.