Page 89 of I Think They Love You

“It wasn’t terrible?”Denz repeats in an octave only dogs can hear. Braylon might as well have said,I’ve had better.Two out of five stars. Would not recommend to others.

“Could we not?” Mild frustration shadows Braylon’s expression. “I’d just like to clean up a bit. If that’s okay with you.”

It’s not a question.

Carefully, Denz switches places with him, refusing to flinch when the bathroom door closes. He should go. They had a laugh. The sandwich was as delectable as he remembers. And he’s not as stressed about work.

That’s all he came here for. Theother stuffwas a bonus.

A history of hookups has taught him to never stay afterward. According to Braylon, they didn’t break any of their agreement rules. It was a quick, harmless blow job. Denz isn’t reinventing his own rules about no attachments, either. There’s absolutely no reason to wait around for the awkwardness to ruin things.

So why is he sitting down on Braylon’s bed? Why’s he reaching for the sweatshirt? Why is he sniffing the soft cotton, like his scent could possibly linger after all these years?

The bathroom door swings open.

“Oh.”

Braylon, still shirtless, blinks at him.

“Is this mine?” Denz doesn’t want to assume. Half of Braylon’s wardrobe in college was UGA apparel. Perks of being a student athlete. But the answer Denz is expecting comes in the guilty twitch of Braylon’s mouth.

His next question slips out before he’s thought it through. “Did you keep it all this time?”

Braylon coughs. “Yes.”

Quiet crawls between them. Denz considers Braylon. His wiggling toes on the carpet. The slow rise and fall of his chest. It’s as if he’s building the courage to confess something.

Denz waits.

Braylon finally says, “I needed something to remind me of home while I was in London. You always left it behind in my dorm.”

“Or you’dsteal itfrom mine.”

Braylon rolls his eyes. “Anyway. While I was packing, it was right there, and I took it.”

“You took it,” Denz repeats. Startling warmth snakes up the back of his neck.

“You should take it back,” Braylon says. “It’s yours.”

“No,” Denz says faster than he expects.

Maybe it’s the late hour. Maybe it’s Braylon’s wide-eyed, embarrassed face. Whatever the reason, Denz likes the idea of leaving a piece of himself in Braylon’s apartment.

In his life.

Which is something he’d do with an actual partner. Not an expretendingto be his boyfriend.

“Keep it.” Denz drops the sweatshirt on a corner of the bed. “I’m too busy to have it saged and exorcised of all the London demons.”

Braylon crosses his arms, unconvinced.

Denz tries not to stare at the dusting of hair growing between his pecs. After a long beat, he says, “This isn’t going to get weird, right?”

He can already picture the uncomfortable texts they’ll exchange next week.

“Because I gave you head?”

“Well,” Denz starts, “I mean—”

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