“Don’t be. I wouldn’t let someone talk shit about him either. And he was your—you know, he was yours, you were together.” “No,” Andrew said. “It wasn’t like that. We weren’t like that.” “What,” Riley said, twisting in his seat and glancing away from the road. Andrew met his eyes for a split second before closing his own against the accusation he saw there, the hurt wedged like a splinter under a fingernail. “I’m not gay.” “Oh my god,” Riley murmured. His laugh was forced and, Andrew thought, incredulous. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You’re serious?”
