Colby started laughing again.
Jason watched him laugh, and felt the swell of it like gold, like happy endings, in his own chest. Colby Kent had so many layers, he’d always thought that; here was one more, somehow both innocent and filthy, full of wordplay and pure pleasure, and they’d unfolded that one together.
Also, he’d never trust Colby’s innocent expression around interviewers again.
They got together some semblance of composure. They restarted the scene.
This one felt even better. Like flying. Like spinning together across trapeze-bars, leaps and holds and twirls through the air, knowing the other person would be right there and matching the steps.
This time, when Colby began coughing, leaning back against the bookshelf but not wholly sinking to the floor—Colby’d said that seeme
