“Last time we were together it was...nice,” he said quietly. Ilya was silent a moment, then admitted, “It was.” “It felt like we were...more.” “We can’t be more, Hollander.” Shane turned his head sharply to look at Ilya. “Would you want to be? If we could?” “We can’t.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Ilya stood up and set his Coke can down hard on the dresser. “It doesn’t fucking matter!” Shane flinched and fiddled with the can of ginger ale that he hadn’t even opened. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t like you,” he said finally. “You don’t like me,” Ilya argued. “I do. I...I maybe like you too much.” Ilya’s heart clenched. “Don’t,” he groaned. “Don’t fucking do this, Hollander. I’m not...” “Worth it?” Ilya glared at him. “Gay. I’m not gay. And I can’t be...anything close to it, okay?” Shane laughed. “Well, you’re doing a shitty job of that!” “Not in public. I can’t... I would not be able to go home.”
