I’m dreaming. I have to be. Surely, Waylon’s not standing here looking like every one of my wet dreams come to life, black hair-tousled and sweaty from his run. Green-gold eyes sparkling with wicked delight as I stumble over my words in a rare fucking show of nerves.

“Well, I am. Good, that is.” He tilts his head, a sly sort of smile playing at his lips.

My brow furrows. “Yeah...” I blink into a heavy frown. I straighten. “I gotta go.”

His lashes flutter rapidly, startled. “What?”

I walk around him, attention laser-focused on the pile of clothes I left by the bathroom door. The shirt’s wrinkled to shit, and I’m pretty sure there’s a blue vomit stain on my jeans, but at least my boxers are relatively clean.

A hand grips my shoulder from behind just as I reach the door to the bathroom. “Don’t.”

I freeze. With my back still to Waylon, I slide my eyes shut and count to three. “Don’t what?”

His breaths seem to have sped up, and I can feel the warm puffs of air on my naked back. That’s how close he is.

“Go,” he says so quietly I nearly miss it. “Don’t...go. Just—”

I exhale, the breath whooshing out of me. I drop my head to the edge of the doorframe. Lifting my hand, I pinch the bridge of my nose.

I can’t do this again. Not now. I don’t know what this is yet, but whatever it is can wait. Say, until, like, the next century perhaps.

It’s getting too hard.

I can’t keep doing this.

I can’t keep wanting him, only for—

“My dad saw us.”

The words tumble out of him so fast and so sudden, I can’t quite be sure he intended to say them at all. I slowly lower my hand from my face.

“He saw us that day. I knew, Will. I knew,” he rushes out desperately, almost pleadingly.

There’s a sharp pain in my chest rivaling the ache in my head. I stare hard at a chip in the wood. I almost don’t recognize my voice when I ask, “What are you talking about?”

The silence is so heavy and thick, I can hear his loud gulp.

Quiet, so quiet I almost can’t make out the words, he finally says, “I knew it was wrong...and I did it anyway.”

My eyes slide shut.

“You were my best friend, Will.” His voice cracks painfully, and God, do I feel that crack splinter right through my chest.