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But this has to mean he doesn’t regret it, right?I can’t help the slow, genuine smile that spreads across my face. “Guess we’ve been holding out on each other, huh?”

He grins back, and the tension in my chest loosens enough to let me breathe again. Maybe, just maybe, this means last night doesn’t have to be a one-time thing. Maybe we’re notstanding on opposite sides of a divide we can’t come back from.

“Seriously, though,” Ryder starts, voice a little softer now. “That was?—”

“Hot?” I interrupt, surprising even myself with how fast the word comes out.

He nods, without a second of hesitation. “Yeah, that.” Now his grin matches mine, and we’re just smiling at each other like fools.

He’s not being weird about it, he doesn’t seem to regret it, and he’s acknowledging it. Maybe he is figuring things out and questioning his sexuality, even if he’s not ready to say that out loud. And I get that. Talking about sex can be easier than talking about your sexuality, especially when it’s so new. And that’s a question I’m not going to ask. I don’t want to make him feel pressured to label himself, especially if he’s unsure. He knows if he wants to talk about it, I’m here.

Ryder tilts his head, still watching me over the rim of his mug. “You’re thinking too hard,” he calls me out. “You do that when you’re trying not to say something.”

The truth is sitting on the tip of my tongue—I’m thinking about you, about last night, about how fucking good it felt, about wanting to do it again—but I’m not ready to say that out loud yet, just in case. I don’t want to tell him I want more—no, that I want everything—when I don’t know how he feels about what we did, himself, or us. Realistically, he’s probably still seeing how he feels about being with me, and I don’t want to make him feel pressured to say more than he’s ready for, especially since we’re in such a high-stress situation.

Instead, I scoff, because of course he notices. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m still catching up,” I admit, setting my mug down. “This isn’t exactly what I pictured waking up to this morning.”

He smirks. “What, me standing here in your shirt?” He gestures vaguely to himself. “Or the part where we jerked each other off and I admitted I liked it?”

My breath catches. Because—fuck. Hearing him say that out loud so easily sends a rush of heat through me.

I swallow hard. “Both.”

Ryder’s smirk widens into a full grin, like he’s enjoying watching me flounder. But my chest loosens at his admission, just enough to let hope seep in. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear him tell me hedidenjoy it. That it wasn’t the vulnerability of the situation we’re in messing with his head or making him say or do something he didn’t mean.

“You know, I’m just gonna throw this out there,” he says, a teasing edge to his voice. “I’d love to do it again.”

I nod, trying to commit every word of this conversation to memory because mystraight-but-probably-questioning best friend said he wanted to jerk each other off again.I can’t believe this is real.

“Me too, Ry. When I first woke up, I was half convinced it was a dream,” I tell him. “I just wish the timing was different.”

His brows furrow slightly, and I’m already kicking myself for saying that.

“What do you mean?” he asks when I don’t immediately continue.

I exhale, running a hand through my hair.Why did I have to open my mouth?“I mean…I just wish we didn’t have all this other shit hanging over our heads.”

His jaw tenses, and it’s like I pulled him out of his morning-after, post-first-time-with-a-guy bliss and dropped him right back into the reality we’re facing.

“The emails.”

I nod. “Yeah. I’m sorry for bringing it up, I just…there was this little voice in my head saying maybe you only went along with last night because you’ve been so stressed about everything.”

Ryder doesn’t hesitate. “No. That’s not it at all.” His voice is confident. “I wanted it, Logan. Not because of what’s going on, because ofyou.”

Did he just…?

A breathwooshesout of me in a big exhale, and I stare at him for a long second. He wanted it. He wantedme. I’ve spent years, every one since meeting him, trying to kill that desire for him. Telling myself repeatedly he’s straight and we'rejustfriends, because that’s all we’ve ever been. And now, he’s standing in front of me saying the words I’ve always dreamed of hearing.

I blink a few times, trying to make sure I’m not imagining it. “So…wait. You actually, like, you’re into me?” I ask, stumbling over the words.

Ryder huffs out a soft laugh, but he looks a bit nervous as he responds. “Yeah. I don’t know what that makes me. Bi, probably. I just know that I liked it a lot, and I’m serious about wanting to do it again.”

My chest feels like it’s going to explode with something that feels a lot like joy, and I know I’m not hiding how happy hearing that makes me. He said it.Out loud.And not in a moment of panic or confusion, but with honest certainty that makes me want to run over and kiss him.

He’s telling me he’s choosingme, and I need to let that matter more than the fear. I need to believe the words comingout of his mouth, not what my mind is saying to continue to protect me.

He’s telling me he’s probably bisexual, thathe likes me.