Roland hadn’t replied, and Lyric hadn’t expected him to. He had said what needed to be said, and the rest was up to the taller boy to decide.
When Lyric left the room, he saw Creed waiting for him. “Sorry,” he said, a little out of breath. “Got a phone call. I had to take it. But we can go now.”
Lyric nodded and followed Creed out to the car; once they had both buckled in, Creed played a song and put the volume on low as he pulled out of the driveway.
“Lyric?” Creed asked, his eyes glued to the road.
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you something? And promise you’ll give me a straight answer.”
“Kind of hard when I struggle in being straight.”
“Ha, ha. You amuse me,” he deadpanned.
Lyric snorted a little. “Go ahead, I’ll try.”
“Do you like Roland?”
He froze. Why would he ask that? Did he know so
