Page 52 of Brighter Shades of Light

“Um.” I went to my room and searched my closet for a shirt that wasn’t toocasual but didn’t screamI’m trying to get laid,either. “Going to the gym.”

“Uh huh.” Tristen leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “Who showersbeforethey go to the gym? That’s like brushing your teeth right before you eat or wiping your ass before you take a shit. Where are you really going? Don’t bullshit me.”

We had seen each other naked plenty of times, so I didn’t think twice about sliding off the towel and putting on a clean pair of boxers as he stood in the same room.

“I’m going to see a friend.” I pulled one of my nicer shirts off the hanger. Rachel always complimented me when I wore it, saying the blue went well with my eyes.

Would Sebastian think so, too?

“Going to see a friend this early in the morning,” he deadpanned. “Who is it? A certain professor?”

I didn’t like keeping secrets from my best friend, but I wasn’t sure if I should tell him. The thing with Sebastian was new, and I still didn’t know exactly what we were doing. Casually seeing each other with some friends-with-benefits stuff added in? Or was it more than that?

“Look, Tristen.” I put on the shirt and turned to him. “You know you’re my boy. But I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

“Fine.” He left the room, slamming my door on his way out.

What the actual fuck is his deal?

Whatever. If he wanted to be an asshole, so be it. I didn’t have to tell him everything that happened in my life.

I finished getting dressed, slid my wallet into my back pocket, and grabbed my keys. When I passed Tristen’s room, he was lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling.

“Have fun,” he said dryly.

“Don’t worry. I will.”

I left the dorm in a mood. I didn’t see why Tristen was acting like such a douche. My bad mood lifted a little once I walked outside, though. Summer had finally released its clutches, and the day was almost too perfect to be real; a high of sixty degrees and crisp air that made me want to rake leaves and jump into the pile like Dad and I used to do.

The parking lot was packed with cars. Blue was the oldest truck in the row, something that once would’ve bothered me but not anymore. When you grew up without much, you got used to being the kid with tattered clothes bought from thrift stores and hand-me-down shoes, while everyone else could afford brand-new things.

Dad had done the best he could, and now that I was older, I appreciated him even more.

I stuck the key in the ignition. “Please start, Blue.” A failed start. Then, another. “Come on, boy.”

The engine roared to life.

Thank god.

A girl in the next car over shot me a dirty look.

I smiled apologetically, even though it wasn’t my fault that my truck was so damn loud. I pulled out of the parking spot and drove toward the exit, turning on my blinker to go right. Sebastian—it was still weird to refer to him that way—lived in the bay area, with all the fancy houses, on the hill I had often admired when I was younger.

His place was more secluded, though. I turned onto a side street, and the scenery transitioned from nice neighborhoods to mostly fields and walls of trees. The paved road began an upward climb, not too steep but enough that I prayed for Blue not to stall out on me. That would suck.

Trees lined both sides of the road, reminding me of something out ofThe Lord of the Rings. As the house came into view, my eyes bugged out.

The cottage-style home wasn’t overly fancy, but it exuded wealth. So many windows, and it appeared to be two stories. There was a place out front that would be perfect for a garden, but nothing was planted.

I parked, wincing at the squealing brakes, and cut the engine. The front door opened before I was even out of the truck, and my heart leaped into my throat as Sebastian stood in the doorway. I approached him, breathing slowly and trying to keep my cool.

“Good morning,” he said. He wore lounge pants and a plain T-shirt. And fuck me, he was barefoot.

I’d never seen him so casual. It was definitely a sight I wouldn’t mind more of.

“Right back at you.” I stood on the doorstep, unsure if I was allowed to hug him.

Screw it.