“I’m amazed you know what I like.”
Dean opened his mouth to say of course he knew but stopped. Jay was right. He knew much about Jay’s life, his likes, and dislikes, his routine, what made him happy or sad, the things that cheered him, gave him cause to laugh after the sadness. Did men note those things about their friends? Such behaviour struck him as almost feminine. Unable to speak, he raised a hand, uncertain what he intended to do—give Jay a reassuring pat on the arm, maybe—only for Jay to jump up, snatch the first-aid items from the table and scurry away. The awkward moment hung in the air as much as his limb, making Dean more aware of how Jay tended not to shy from his touch. Contact always seemed casual, relaxed. Now, gone was the easiness between them because of his stupidity. A
