Page 23 of Crease Collision

“I was thinking of someone I used to know,” I tell him. “My best friend.”

Questions cross his face, but he says nothing.

“His name is… was Gunnar,” I say. “He died two years ago.”

Kai moves his hand in slow circles on my back. “I’m sorry. Do you want to sit down?”

His voice is warm, and his touch grounds me in a way I did not expect. Perhaps he is not the only one who could use someone who cares.

“I’ll be fine,” I say. “Want to go on?”

He lets a moment pass before guiding me to another path. The city sounds drift back little by little. I am embarrassed about crying, but not as much as I could be, because it happened with Kai.

He leads us to an exit, and we step out onto a wide avenue. A large stone building with steep gables and beautiful carved windows is across the street.

“That is amazing,” I say, pointing at it. “Very European. I should like to live in such a place one day.”

“Wouldn’t we all? It’s called The Dakota, and a lot of celebrities live there. John Lennon lived there too.”

“He had excellent taste in homes as well as music. Perhaps one day when you live there, you will invite me to visit.”

His eyes brighten. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I promise if that day ever comes, you’ll be the first to know.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

KAI

I should have gone home an hour ago. The problem is, Oskar has a way of making me feel things. We laugh and joke like friends, but that isn’t what we are. We’re two guys who hooked up and found a reason to have a picnic.

What, exactly, was that back at Bethesda Terrace? I ran off at the mouth like I haven’t done for a while. I wanted him to be impressed by that spot, but not enough to justify info-dumping like I’ve never learned to control it.

“What is that?” Oskar asks.

I look around, surprised to see we’ve made it so far already.

“Columbus Circle,” I say. “Southwest corner of the park. It’s on the National Register of Historic Places, and when Frederick Law Olmsted⁠—”

I cut myself off as soon as Oskar smiles. Hopefully, he doesn’t think I’m too weird for knowing things like this. I find my happy voice, the one I use with teammates. “Sorry about that. As you’ve no doubt noticed, I can get carried away.”

Our hands brush, and the spark of static electricity startles me.

“I like it, Kai,” he says. “You know so much. If I’m going to live here, or at least across the river, I need to know about the city.”

“Don’t want to bore you.”

Because I don’t want you to think I’m odd.

He shakes his head. “You are the opposite of boring. Talking about things makes you excited, and I love how your face lights up.”

It happens again. Like half the things he says, his words make me feel warm in a way that has nothing to do with the August heat. I keep thinking he makes me feel safe, which is an odd word choice. If I’m not in danger, what is there to feel safe from?

“Would you like to see my hotel?” he asks. “I am not used to this heat, and it would be nice to take a break. We could go out again later if you want to.”

I study his face, trying to decide what he’s inviting me to his hotel for. His expression gives no clue. All I see is a ridiculously attractive guy whose brow is a little wrinkled.

To hell with it. I’m down for going to his hotel, whatever he wants to do there.

“Sure,” I say. “We should go inside for a while. Where are you staying?”