Page 81 of I Think They Love You

He’s rambling, shifting from foot to foot.

Denz can’t help himself. He kisses Bray so hard and unapologetic anddeep; he thinks he might drown. Maybe he already did, eight months ago.

A year ago, when he caught this shy, goofy, buzz-cut boy at that party.

Maybe this is all Denz wanted from today: a smoky kitchen, a stupid Marvel movie playing in the background, Bray wearing his sweatshirt, kissing the words “I love you” into soft lips until they’re swollen.

“One more thing,” Bray says. “You’re never allowed near the stove again.”

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Unsurprisingly, Braylon’s apartment is minimalism on level ten.

The patio door is open. Below, through a gauzy blanket of fog, downtown Decatur restaurants and shops glow. The living room feels simultaneously empty and inviting. The plush-looking sofa from their FaceTime call. A wall-mounted flat-screen hovering over a game console with neon green and blue wireless controllers. Piled on the coffee table are paperbacks, folders, a closed laptop—organized chaos reminiscent of Braylon’s cubicle.

But it’s nothing like Braylon’s old dorm.

Denz hates how his brain works. Hates that tiny, electric ache behind his ribs.Whyis he here again? He inhales. Bacon grease and cheese and cinnamon.

After leaving his shoes by the door, Denz finds himself sitting on the kitchen bar, watching all the action unfold.

“No stools yet. Sorry about that,” Braylon comments. Barefoot, he shuffles around. The same white T-shirt from earlier complemented by a pair of gray sweatpants sitting low on his narrow hips.

Denz tries not to stare.

“Picking some up soon,” Braylon continues. “Thanks to you.”

“Me?”

An embarrassed smile unfurls over Braylon’s mouth. “Remember when you called me out for not chatting up any of my old teammates?”

Denz grimaces. “I didn’t mean—”

“No. It’s true.” Braylon laughs while hand-drying a pan. “Remember Lyle Ng?”

“Of course.”

Denz liked all of Braylon’s teammates. Mostly, anyway. They were the perfect mix of loud and funny and softhearted. No one was ever a homophobic asshole after Braylon came out. Or when he introduced Denz as his boyfriend at a group pizza night.

But Lyle was his favorite.

He put extra care into looking after Braylon. He had a habit of dragging Denz into every group conversation as if he understood any of their references or jokes. Like he belonged there.

“I emailed him,” Braylon says while gathering ingredients. “We’re going to set up a time for him to come by soon. Properly catch up.”

“Aww. You’re learning to play nice with other adults.”

Braylon ignores Denz’s sarcastic grin. “Since this is your fault, you’re helping me pick out bar stools.”

A flicker of heat attacks Denz’s cheeks. He looks around. Is he the first person Braylon’s invited over? Has Whit been here? Also, was that a subtle invitation to spend an afternoon furniture shopping with Braylon?

He says, “IKEA challenge accepted.”

When he starts to scoot off the counter, Braylon stops him. “No. Stay there.” A gentle smile creases his lips. “Maybe you’ll learn something this time.”

“Doubt it.”

“At least try?”

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