Chapter 22Devante was shaken out of his trance, where he’d been staring blank-eyed at his phone for who knew how long, by the phone itself ringing. He answered it on instinct. “Hello?”
“Hi, sweetheart!” Michael’s voice ran out over the line. “Were you watching?”
Watching?
Shit. Nationals. “s**t,” he said aloud, fumbling for his laptop, where the stream was still running, tinny music coming out of his earbuds, which were lying beside the computer on his bed. “s**t, Michael, I’m so sorry, I meant to, I swear, I had the stream up and everything—”
“Take a breath,” Michael said. Devante obeyed, sucking in a huge gulp of air. “It’s okay if you didn’t watch, Devante. I won’t be mad.” He sounded a little hurt, though, and like he was trying to hide it. “I just remember you said you were going
