“Jesus Christ, Randy,” Vaughn whispered. He squeezed again, this time of his own accord. “How do you keep doing this to me?”
Randy shook his head. “I don’t know. But when you figure it out, let me know, will you?” When Vaughn looked up, Randy held Vaughn’s gaze with a smile. “You know, so I can keep doing it when you suddenly lose your mind on me and insist that you hate my guts.”
Vaughn pulled himself up so quickly that Randy flinched. “I never said I hated you. Never. Not one time.”
Randy shrugged, trying to appear cool even though his heart was beating a tune akin to the Flight of the Bumblebee. “Sometimes you don’t have to say things to mean them. And sometimes you say them even if you don’t use those exact words.”
“I don’t hate you.” Vaughn shook his head. “Sometimes I wish I did.
