Dinner was… normal. Well, not exactly. The table was full of delicacies Sky couldn't even name. So much variety that he just sat there for a moment, dumbstruck.
He wasn't really a "food guy." Never had been. But as he stared at the perfectly plated dishes, he found himself wondering—really wondering—if Chris had truly enjoyed his mother's and his simple home-cooked meals. When this was what he was used to.
The conversation was light. They said random stuff, but it felt like they were just using small talk to patch over the silence. Like they both knew something had almost happened, and now they were carefully pretending it hadn't.
Sky tried not to let it bother him.
He'd touched Chris. His bare chest. His skin. And Chris hadn't just allowed it—he'd liked it.
Sky could not stop thinking about it. No matter how hard he tried.
