Page 184 of Piece Us Together

“Oh, shut up,” I tease, poking him in the cheek.

He playfully nips at my finger before nuzzling his nose against my palm. I tilt my hand until I’m cupping his cheek, making him sigh happily, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Think Dr. Singh will judge me if I put getting fucked in the ass as a goal?”

I burst out laughing. I think I even snort, not that I admit it when he points it out with a booming laugh of his own.

“I think you absolutelyhaveto put that as a goal. I think it’s entirely unfair I don’t get to be there to see his face when he reads it.”

“How about I let you be there to see Hunter’s face, the day I tell him I’m ready to try it?”

I grin. “Fuck, okay, that’s way better. I’ll take that.”

“What in the world are you two doing down here?” We whirl around in unison, Maison making a soft, pained sound from the movement. Hunter frowns. “Be careful, kitten."

“I am. Sorry.” He rights himself, looking back at the fire. Hunter can’t see the way he squeezes his eyes shut. I can almost read his mind by now—he’s hating himself for upsetting Hunter, for hurting himself when he just said he’s going to try not to, for ruining things, always ruining things.

Hunter doesn’t even have to see his face to know the same. He strides over to us, scoots the notebook out of the way with his foot, and settles on the other side of Maison. His fingers have Maison’s chin in their grip before he even seems to have registered Hunter has sat down. “You were surprised. I didn’t tell you to be careful as an admonishment. I told you to be careful because I care about you. It was just a soft reminder.”

“Okay…”

“Maison, when I’m scolding you for something, I will tell you. If I’m upset, if I’m mad, if I want you doing something different, if I want an apology, I will always tell you. Do you trust me to do that?”

Maison sounds much more sure when he answers this time. “Yeah. I do.”

“Good boy.” He uses the hold on his chin to tilt his face up before pressing his lips to Maison’s. The firelight falls over their faces. I realize Hunter is illuminated more than Maison. Whereas Maison’s face is mostly shadowed, Hunter’s is glowing. Golden, almost.

I smile.

I think we’re going to be okay.

We go to the house for Maison to meet with Dr. Singh. It’s only Bryce and Matt at home. Max and Casey went out with Carter, Travis has an evening art class, and Jake is with Casey’s dad at his place building furniture.

Of course, our friend group lives to be shitheads, so Bryce lures us into the kitchen with the pretense of getting us drinks, then immediately begins to grill Hunter. Matt sits with his tablet and just grins at my misery.

It starts easily enough. Bryce places the glass of lemonade in front of Hunter, makes eye contact, and asks, “What are your intentions with my friends?”

I make a mental note to tell Maison that Bryce counts him as a friend. Then Hunter says, “To love the absolute shit out of them for as long as they’ll let me. Probably after that too, honestly.”

Bryce’s eyes narrow. “That was a good answer.”

“Thank you.” Hunter takes a drink of lemonade. “Bryce, right?”

His eyes narrow even more. I’m not even sure how he sees Hunter like that. “Yes.”

“And Matt,” Hunter says, nodding to Matt.

Matt nods and does his name sign. I go to explain, but Hunter is already repeating the hand movement and saying, “That’s your sign? Awesome.”

Swoon.

Motherfuckingswoon.

“And you’re a professor?” Bryce asks skeptically.

“I am. I teach history.” He grins then, eyes turning to me. “Nolan is thinking of taking some classes. Cooking, right, darling?”

Bryce forgets to be intimidating, lighting up in excitement. “Really? Finally! You’ve been talking about that since—” He stops then, making a sound like he’s going to choke on his tongue.

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