“I wasn’t.”
“No way for me to know.”
“No, but…” But what? Jack had left and given him a perfect excuse now to show disinterest. Put the blame on Jack. If he couldn’t put the man under a spell, he could keep him at a distance.
If he wanted to.
Want didn’t matter in this issue. Neither did need.
“Look, doesn’t matter. We’d barely started…” As he ran out of words, Brinley performed an ineffectual wave, dismissing the conversation, Jack, and what they started last night in one go.
“Didn’t feel like it.”
He should ask what Jack meant, but feared he understood too well. The foreplay was so much more than barely started. Though he never surfed, surely that sustained moment, hanging in space on the crest of a wave, was how surfers must feel.
“It was…good, I admit.” What else should he say?
