Page 43 of Noah

I laughed. "You might have competition."

"Fine. Fine. I gotta go. I was headed for the gym."

"Didn't you go this morning?"

"Doesn't hurt to go twice."

"Have you eaten today?"

Liam sighed. "Don't, Noah. I can take care of myself."

I nodded even though he couldn't see me. "Have a good workout."

"Talk soon. Love you."

"Love you, too."

I tossed my phone onto the couch and sat beside it. I worried about Liam. He'd been going at it harder than usual. That typically meant someone had said something negative to him about his body. Whether it was in person or a comment through a gay dating app. Liam had no idea he was so much more than his appearance. Someday, I hoped someone would come along and help him believe that. Someone who would fall in love with Liam for everything he was on the inside.

That's what was pulling me toward Brody. Sure, he looked like a freaking sex god, but it was what Brody had shown me about the man inside that had me hooked. Not everything reached his lips, but it didn't have to. What he did say was deeply considered. And he trusted me enough to let it be me he spoke to about his life. Now that we'd moved past the awkward small talk, Brody was letting me in. Allowing me a glimpse into a man it seemed few had understood.

I wanted to be that person for him.

Chapter Ten | Brody

I pulled up outside the Rainbow LGBTQ Youth Centre and sat there staring at the building. It had been a bit of an impulse to come here. It was a midweek afternoon so I knew Noah would be at the pub. He wasn't why I was considering going inside today.

I lifted a cloth bag off my passenger seat and made my way through the doors and down to Jamal's office. I'd need to check in with him first.

I knocked on the open door and Jamal smiled up at me.

"Brody! Come on in and have a seat. What can I do for you?"

"It's not about the trial." Best to get that out of the way first.

"That was my next question."

I lifted the cloth bag. "I have something for Kyle."

"What is it?"

I was having second thoughts. "It's nothing special. My mom made them for me." I reached into the bag and retrieved a set of laminated rectangular cards held together by a metal ring.

Jamal leaned forward as I handed them to him.

"What are these?"

"Expression and response cards. At least that's what my mom called them."

"How do they work?"

"Take a look at one of them."

Jamal did so, selecting a card from the stack. "This one is a sad face?"

"No, there's more angle to the eyebrows. The face is distressed. Look on the back of the card."

Jamal flipped the card over. "Ah. It says distressed at the top. That's good that it's named."

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