Page 44 of A Boy Is a Gun: Part II

“Okay,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.

Later—much later—I tiptoed back to my apartment with my heels in my hand and a smile I couldn’t hide, leaning against my own door like it might hold me up while the night replayed in flashes: his mouth, his voice, his patience, the way he didn’t look away.

I could still taste him.And I knew—clear as breath in the cool hallway—that this wasn’t a one-night storm I could just sleep off.

When I finally slipped back to my apartment, I leaned against my own door, eyes closed, trying to steady my breathing.And for the first time in a long time, my thoughts weren’t a mess—they were just one name.

Jiro.

What I did know was that somewhere across the city, Cameron already knew what happened.

And he was patient when he wanted to be.Dangerously patient.