I laugh. “I doubt that.”
He shrugs. “Well. I told you, didn’t I?”
A weird little flutter dances in my chest. Not a crush. Just warmth. Like I’m socially accepted. I have friends now.
“Hey, got any gum?” I ask, lips dry from beer and nerves and... maybe too much smiling.
“Glovebox.”
I pop it open.
Dig around.
Silver catches the light.
My fingers wrap around cool metal. I pull.
Clink.
Handcuffs.
They dangle from one finger as I lift them into the light.
“And these?” I ask, half-laughing. “Are you, uh... kinky with your boyfriend? In this van?”
He barks a laugh, those stupid dimples cratering. “Nah. Trick cuffs.”
Then, quieter, like a secret he didn’t mean to share, he adds, “Don’t tell Holden or I’ll never hear the end of it... but I do magic on the side.”
He rubs the back of his neck. If it weren’t so dark in here, I swear he’d be bright red.
I grin. “A shrimp boat magician, huh?”
“Yep.” He smirks, hisbright blond hair casting a halo in the dim cab. “Corporate events. Birthday parties. I’m not bad.”
I laugh, leaning back into the seat. The beer still warms my blood, making everything feel just a little slower. Funnier.
“So how do these work?” I ask, rattling the cuffs.
“I pretend I’m stuck,” he explains. “But if you twist your wrists right, they pop open.”
He flashes me a look.
“Wanna see?”
My smile falters. “Uh...”
Riser’s already pulling over. The van drifts to the shoulder with a gravel crunch.
“It’s easy,” he says, voice low. “An old trick.”
I hesitate.
But he’s smiling. Warm. Sweet.
Gay.
“...Okay,” I murmur.
