“Thanks. And not for the stairs. But, like … you know … things.” “Things?” Jet asks, his tone mocking. “Thanks for saving me from that chick.” “Woulda thought a straight guy like you would’ve been pissed,” Lennon says. God, his knowing attitude is annoying. “Fuck off, you know I’m gay.” And apparently my mouth has no filter now. “Well, I didn’t know,” Jet says, “but I suspected because you totally checked me out when we met.” I straighten up. “No, I didn’t.” I look at Lennon. “I swear I didn’t.”
