Chapter 7

Krish slams the door shut on the rest of the sentence. Doesn’t mean he’s not human,he thinks, walking around the back of the truck to the driver’s side. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to get with you. He’s a musician, Dane, not a priest.

As he climbs behind the wheel, Dane tells him, “It’s not like that, babe. I said I played a little and he wanted to hear some of my songs, that’s it. He said we can get together for a jam session, his words.”

Starting the engine, Krish pops the truck into reverse and steps on the gas. “Fine.” He hates that he thinks it’s something more. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Dane—it’s everyone else he has his doubts about.

But Dane isn’t one to let things like this go. “It’s not what you’re thinking,” he says, snapping his seat belt into place. Then he rubs Krish’s thigh, a soft touch through the heavy denim jeans he wears. “He just wants to hear me play, that’s all.”