He knew they could hear him crying, so when he finally stopped and peeled away from Roland enough not so discreetly to wipe his tears, he sniffled a little as he looked at the friends. Somewhere along the way, Claire had ordered them drinks, and now they were sitting before him. He didn’t say anything, just held onto Roland’s fingers as he took a small sip of the hot chocolate.
When he put the drink down, he focused on Roland’s fingers as the rest engaged in a conversation. They were so slim and pale and long. His knuckles were bruised, but his fingertips and palms were soft despite him often working at his father’s garage. Lyric didn’t look at him, no matter how much he wanted to, as he thought back to the kiss.
Did Roland regret kissing him?
He was sure Roland didn’t remember the seco
