“I didn’t mean it like that. I know that . . .” He closes his eyes for a minute and flexes his fists, like he’s physically gathering the right words. “I know that people assume I’m straight. And I don’t usually correct them, because it’s easier that way.”

I sigh. I think this is the most we’ve spoken ever. Our mouths were busy doing . . . other things. “I know you know that. I’m just hurt, okay? You hurt me when you told me you were ready to come out. I thought you were ready to come out for me. But that’s silly, because coming out isn’t for anyone but you. I thought it meant that . . . that you’d want to be together.”

He clutches his hand to his heart and cuts across the stockroom to me. “Oh, Waylon, I’m—” He shakes his head, and I can see him connecting the dots about how exactly I might have come to that conclusion. “I’m so sorry. If it helps, Rashid totally freaked out when I told him. I think he might like me, but maybe he’s just not—”

“I don’t need all the details,” I tell him in the kindest way I can.

“Right. Of course,” he says, riddled with embarrassment. “I meant what I said, though. I do miss you.”

He leans into me then and parts my legs with his thigh. My body begins to react almost immediately, and the semi I managed to hide when Tucker touched my thigh is still fresh enough in my memory that I pitch a tent almost instantly. (Yes, Tucker simply touching my thigh got that much of a reaction out of me. Thank Goddess for tabletops.)

Lucas brushes his lips against mine, softly at first, nudging me, and then with more force. It’s the kind of kiss that makes me want to yank him even closer until our bodies meld into one heap of limbs and sweat, but—“Stop,” I say, my voice too soft at first. “Stop.” This time my voice is more firm. It takes every ounce of self-control I have to pull back from him.

“I’m sorry,” he says instinctively.

“For what?” I ask him. “Dumping me the first time or toying with me just now and making me your second choice?”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“My life is a lot of things right now, and not much of it is good, Lucas, but one thing I know for sure is that I can’t be anyone’s second string. Honestly, I’d rather be alone. At least then I know I’ll have chosen myself.”

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he finally stutters. Tears well in his eyes, and he lets out a grunting sigh.