Page 31 of Except You

“Oh, and what did he say?”

“You can look.”

And he does, he scrolls up and reads through our messages, smiling a bit as he does.

“He’s a feisty guy. I’d love to meet him.”

“Maybe one day. I don’t think he’s ready for that though.”

“I get it, but you’re making good strides. He’s letting you in, slowly but surely. Have you told your parents or brothers what you’re doing?”

“No. I haven’t talked to them about it. Probably won’t. I get why Magnus didn’t tell us anything growing up. It’s stressful as fuck even thinking about it.”

“Meh, I get that. They don’t need to know. This is your life. Live it how you want to. I know I am.”

It seems he is by fucking around with strangers multiple times a week. My stomach twists at the thought. I just hate that he might not be behaving responsibly, putting himself in danger with strange men.

And I hate that it’s not any of my business. I can’t just come right out and say it, not when he’s looking so relaxed and happy, fiddling with his phone and selecting a playlist that he thinks I’ll like.

It’s odd how he just knows me, and yet we really don’t know each other that well. But the music he selects is totally my jam, and I find myself bobbing my head along with the song.

“Look at you, Mr. Max. Jiving with the beat.”

I feel my cheeks heat and roll my eyes. “Shut up.”

“I thought straight guys couldn’t dance. But it seems I was a little wrong.”

“You’ve danced with me before,” I say, and Beau pokes at me.

“I did, and I was not impressed. You don’t have the moves, big guy.”

His teasing is good-natured, but part of me wonders if that’s what he’s looking for in a guy. Someone with good dance moves? Seems kind of silly, but who knows what his list of criteria is?

Fuck, for some reason, I wanna know what that criteria is.

“I have plenty of good moves,” I grumble. “Just not on the dancefloor.”

“Oh, is that so?” He pulls out a bag of snacks from his backpack and munches on a Hershey’s bar while sipping at his slushie. It’s cherry red and is making his lips darker and darker with each suck.

“Yeah, I’ve never had a complaint from a woman.”

He gasps and then leans a little closer to me. “Oh, my. Do tell.”

I shift in my seat, feeling kind of silly doing this. He doesn’t need to know about my sex life, and to be honest, it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone. I’ve been too busy and far too lazy to date. It’s a lot of damn work, and I haven’t been in the mood to try.

My hand works just fine.

“I don’t think you wanna know.”

“Oh, but I do. I am oh-so-curious.”

He’s shifted in his seat even more and is now cross-legged, the seatbelt twisted around his torso. That can’t be safe.

“Yeah, I don’t think so, Bow-tie. Sit facing forward.”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

I roll my eyes and peek over at him. “Don’t think I won’t pull this car over and make you sit the right way.”

---