“My family would approve,” Jason said. “And you’re right. I love them. So that’s, um, not odd. That’s…good.”
This felt like an exit line, or it would be in a script; he reached out, found the door behind him. “So. Okay. I’ll talk to you in the morning?”
“Yes,” Colby said. “Jason—yes.”
On that yes, Jason went out; he discovered, opening his own door and catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, that he’d been grinning all the way down the hall.
Colby’s song choice remained in his head, an echo. On impulse he searched the internet, found it, put it on his phone while kicking off shoes and changing out of jeans and into pajama pants. Not his usual—not fast enough or classic-rock enough—but not bad.
And it feels like love, he thought. A heartbreak beat, and it’s all that we got. The ra
