“The SIP”

Chapter Five — Crossing Lines

Yay found Xan exactly where he expected him to be.

The old bar.

The one with dim lights, dark wood, and music low enough that people could hear themselves think.

The same place where everything had started.

Xan sat in the corner with a glass in his hand.

The Sip.

He looked up when Yay entered.

For several seconds, neither man moved.

Then Xan smiled.

Not triumphantly.

Almost as though he'd been expecting him.

"You came."

Yay stopped a few feet away.

"I almost didn't."

"But you did."

Yay glanced at the empty chair opposite him.

"Can I sit?"

Xan nodded.

Yay sat.

Silence settled between them.

For once, Xan didn't rush to fill it.

That made Yay more nervous.

Finally, Xan spoke.

"Why are you here?"

Yay looked at him.

"You told me to come."

"That's not an answer."

Yay swallowed.

"I don't know."

Xan leaned back.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have come."

Yay frowned.

"Why did you ask me to?"

"Because I wanted to know whether you'd choose to come."

The words landed heavily.

Yay looked down at his hands.

"And?"

"And you did."

Yay exhaled.

"You make everything sound like a game."

"Maybe because you're still pretending this isn't one."

Yay looked up.

Their eyes met.

For the first time, Yay didn't look away.

"I'm attracted to you."

The confession seemed to surprise even him.

Xan remained completely still.

Yay continued before he could lose his nerve.

"I don't know why. I don't understand it. But I am."

Something changed in Xan's expression.

Not softness.

Something more dangerous.

Recognition.

"I know."

Yay's jaw tightened.

"Of course you do."

Xan's mouth curved slightly.

"You've been telling me without saying it."

Yay looked away.

"I love Zain."

"I know."

"And he's good to me."

"I know."

"Then why can't I stop thinking about you?"

Xan didn't answer immediately.

When he finally did, his voice was quiet.

"Maybe because wanting something and deserving it aren't the same thing."

Yay stared at him.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you don't have to make excuses for what you feel."

Yay shook his head.

"You're making this worse."

"I know."

The honesty unsettled him.

Xan leaned forward.

"But I'm not the one who came here."

Yay's heart pounded.

No one had forced him.

No one had dragged him through the door.

He had come.

That fact was becoming impossible to escape.

Xan reached across the table and rested his hand beside Yay's.

He didn't touch him.

He waited.

Yay stared at the small distance between their hands.

Then, slowly, he closed it.

Their fingers touched.

Neither moved.

The contact was simple.

Yet it felt like a door opening.

Yay knew he could pull away.

He didn't.

Xan looked at their hands.

Then at him.

"Are you sure?"

Yay's voice was barely audible.

"No."

Xan nodded.

"Good."

Yay frowned.

"Good?"

"Being unsure means you understand this matters."

Yay's heart tightened.

He looked at the man sitting across from him and wondered when exactly he'd stopped being afraid of Xan.

Maybe he hadn't.

Maybe fear and desire had simply become impossible to separate.

Outside, rain began tapping against the windows.

Inside, neither man moved.

And somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, Yay realized the line he'd spent days trying not to cross was already behind him.

He had crossed it the moment he walked through the door.

Now he had to live with where it led.

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