16. Evan #2
Evan felt it immediately. Somewhere between the elevator and the hallway, his pulse had climbed and hadn’t come back down, beating fast beneath his skin.
It thudded hard enough that he could feel it in his throat and the base of his jaw like it was trying to force its way out.
His breathing had gone shallow without him noticing, and he inhaled deeply, trying to pull in enough air.
His palms felt damp and he wiped them on his pants before he flexed his fingers once.
His eyes landed on CJ, the fabric of his shirt pulling just slightly across his broad shoulders.
Evan’s gaze dropped before he could stop it, and he stared at the line of CJ’s back as it narrowed to his hips, then lower at the muscle shifting beneath denim and the shift of CJ’s hips as he walked.
It was the kind of movement that came from strength and repetition and didn’t need to be exaggerated to be noticed.
Heat flared low and fast, and his stomach tightened in a way that had nothing to do with nerves.
Evan dragged his eyes back up, flushing like he’d been caught even though CJ hadn’t turned around.
His jaw tightened reflexively, like he could control his reaction the way he could control everything else.
It didn’t work.
Ahead of him, CJ came to a stop at his door and pulled out his keys, the faint jingle of metal sounding louder than it should have before he held the fob to the reader. For a second, he didn’t move.
“You can still bail,” CJ said without turning around.
Evan huffed softly. “Do you want me to?”
CJ shook his head, still facing the door. “Figured I’d offer.”
Evan could feel the tension radiating off CJ, and he closed the distance between them until he could feel CJ’s heat in front of him.
“I didn’t follow you just to leave,” he said quietly.
CJ’s hand tightened around his doorknob, a barely there motion that no one else would have noticed.
Then he nodded once and opened the door.
He stepped inside first, moving just far enough to clear the doorway before he stopped abruptly, like he wasn’t sure what the next move should be.
Evan slipped in behind him, and the door closed with a quiet click, sealing them into a space that suddenly felt too small for the amount of tension they both carried.
Evan dropped his bag by the door and toed off his shoes, his eyes locked on CJ and the way his shoulders were just a little too tight. The tension was subtle, but it was there, and for the first time, Evan realized he wasn’t the only one off balance.
CJ cleared his throat and shifted his weight to kick off his sneakers before glancing down the hall toward the kitchen. “You want, uh…water? Or something?”
Evan nodded once. “Yeah. Sure.”
They moved at the same time, then hesitated when they nearly stepped into each other, both of them stopping short with an awkward shuffle that would have been funny any other time.
“Sorry,” CJ muttered.
Evan laughed softly and shook his head. “We’re off to a great start.”
CJ huffed under his breath and turned toward the kitchen, running a hand over the back of his neck as he walked. Evan followed a step behind, watching the movement more than he meant to. CJ grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and slid one across the counter toward Evan.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
Silence settled in again, heavier this time, and Evan wondered which one of them would crack first. He leaned back slightly against the counter and sipped his water, more to give himself something to do than because he was actually thirsty.
CJ stayed across the kitchen from him, fingers resting against the edge of the counter, tapping once before going still again.
CJ exhaled slowly, and Evan looked at him, watching him scrub a hand over his face before dropping it back down to the counter. “I’m gonna be honest,” he said, voice a little rougher than before. “I have no idea where to start here.”
Evan nodded and smiled faintly. “Yeah, me either.”
CJ tapped his fingers against the counter. “I mean, I had a whole thing in my head on the way home. I knew exactly what I wanted to say. And now—” He gestured vaguely between them. “Nothing. Gone.”
Evan nodded slowly, fingers flexing around the water bottle until the plastic crinkled before he set it on the counter. “Maybe we should pick a different starting point.”
“What do you mean?”
Evan swallowed, his throat tight. “Haven’t we already said most of what we needed to say?”
“Have we?” CJ frowned, and Evan had to force himself to stop from reaching out to smooth the furrow between his brows.
“Yeah,” Evan said with a shrug. “I know why you left, and you’ve already apologized. Is there more?”
CJ’s eyes searched his face like he was trying to figure out what that meant and where Evan was going with it. Evan didn’t make him guess for long.
“What I’m saying is, we don’t have to start from scratch,” he said quietly. “We just have to stop pretending that the past didn’t happen.”
“Then what?” CJ had gone still, one hand braced on the counter behind him, fingers gripping the edge.
“Then we stop acting like this is new.” The words came out steadier than he felt.
CJ’s gaze flicked to his mouth, so quick that anyone else would have missed it. “This doesn’t feel new to you?” he asked quietly.
Evan scoffed. “No,” he said. “It feels like something we never finished.”
He took a step forward, closing the distance between them slowly, so CJ could move if he truly wanted to. He didn’t. He stayed exactly where he was, watching Evan carefully, letting Evan decide how this went.
“You said if I hadn’t been drunk…” Evan’s words trailed off as CJ nodded, and he took another step closer. “I’m not drunk now.”
CJ’s mouth twitched and one corner tilted up slightly. “I know,” he said.
There was no hesitation in his words, but Evan held his gaze for another second, searching for any doubt or confusion. He didn’t find it, and CJ stayed still. Evan exhaled slowly.
“Okay,” he said, almost to himself.
He closed the rest of the space between them and came to a stop in front of CJ, close enough that if either of them leaned forward, they would be chest to chest. CJ’s breath hitched, just enough that Evan felt it, and that was all it took.
One second, there was the smallest bit of space between them.
The next, he was closing it, his hand fisting in the front of CJ’s shirt and the other finding CJ’s side as he leaned in.
Their mouths met hard enough to knock the breath out of him and pull a low, startled sound from CJ.
For half a heartbeat, Evan thought this is it.
This was where CJ was going to pull back, everything would break again, and he would be reminded why this was a terrible idea.
But CJ didn’t. His hands came up instead—one bracketing Evan’s jaw, the other sliding behind his neck, fingers curling with enough pressure to hold him in place.
CJ pulled him closer, and that was all it took for the moment to slip completely out of Evan’s control.
There was nothing tentative about CJ now, just the solid press of CJ’s body closing the last fraction of space between them until they were chest to chest. Evan felt everything all at once—the heat and weight of his body, the way CJ’s grip tightened just slightly like he thought Evan might pull away, and Evan responded without thinking.
His hand tightened in CJ’s shirt, the fabric twisting in his fist as he tried to pull him closer, even though there wasn’t anywhere left to go.
The hand gripping CJ’s side slid to his back, fingers spreading and pressing in, and CJ groaned into Evan’s mouth as their hips came together.
The kiss was messy and frantic and edged with desperation, and Evan’s pulse began to echo in his ears.
CJ made another quiet sound against his mouth, so low that Evan felt it more than heard it.
The noise went right through him, and his grip tightened in response as everything else fell away.
The seven years of distance and silence and of carefully not thinking about the past stopped mattering the second CJ leaned into him and kissed him back without hesitation.
CJ’s touch wasn’t rushed or uncertain, just steady like he was relearning Evan and not afraid of what he’d find.
It was like no time had passed at all. Evan remembered every curve and plane of CJ’s body, and it felt so familiar that it was almost unfair.
His thoughts tried to keep up at first, tried to analyze and make sense of what this meant, but he gave up quickly as they fragmented and slipped away under the sensation of CJ’s touch.
They broke apart when the need for air became nonnegotiable.
Neither of them wanted to, and Evan stayed close, his forehead pressed to CJ’s, their noses brushing as they both tried to pull in air.
Everything felt too loud and too big—his pulse, his breathing, the way his chest heaved like he’d just run several miles.
“Well,” Evan said hoarsely, his voice rough around the edges. “I guess that answers that.”